“That’s different. At least we’re here to defend ourselves.”

  “True. But I’ve been thinking—”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “People pay big money to have their online presence cleaned up. We could offer it as a service and hire Brittany to do the work.”

  “Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves? We’re not even open for business. Besides, she’s a hacker.”

  “Yeah—just like all the people who do that kind of work.”

  “And she’s underage.”

  “Which means she won’t get in trouble if she does something borderline.”

  “We’re not going to turn her into a delinquent.”

  “We won’t ask her to do anything that’s outright illegal. Besides, she could use the extra money. I think she’s raising herself.”

  Linda softened. It was clear her sister saw something of herself in the girl. “Okay, I trust you to supervise. And the website looks amazing, by the way.”

  “Yeah, nothing fancy, just a landing page.”

  Linda laughed. “Look at you, spouting jargon.”

  “I might not be as smart as you, but I’m not dumb.”

  At the defensive note in her sister’s voice, Linda turned her head. “I don’t think you’re dumb.”

  “You don’t think I can pass the investigator’s exam.”

  “I’m not sure I can pass the investigator’s exam.”

  “And if you can’t, I couldn’t possibly.”

  Linda scoffed. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You were thinking it.”

  “I…” Linda trailed off, then started again. “I’m just worried you’re not taking this class seriously. The material in the workbook is pretty dense.”

  “I can read, Linda.”

  Linda pressed her lips together and cast about for a different subject. “Did you talk to your accountant about buying a car?”

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I don’t qualify to finance a car now and certainly not after the bankruptcy is filed. After I sell the house furnishings, I’m hoping to have enough to buy something pre-owned.”

  “That will help,” Linda said, but doubt niggled at her. She’d heard Octavia commit the proceeds of the furniture sales to too many things. The sooner they could get the agency running in the black, the better.

  And Octavia was right—she was worried her sister wouldn’t pass the exam and she’d be working cases alone. Octavia wasn’t dumb, but she’d never been a scholar. She’d attended UK on a cheerleading scholarship and by her own admission, had gone to as few classes as possible. And the only section of the investigation class she’d paid attention to last week was the one taught by Dunk Duncan.

  Linda bit into her lip. She’d been a sophomore when Octavia was a senior—she’d seen the two of them on campus, the star basketball player and the gorgeous cheerleader. Even though they were never an official couple, they’d been head over heels for each other. She’d been shocked when Octavia had introduced her to a pre-law student named Richard and announced they were planning to get married when they graduated. Octavia had explained Richard would give her the life she wanted, but Linda always suspected Octavia carried a torch for Dunk.

  And from the way the man had looked at her sister last week, it was clear he still had a thing for her, too. Octavia was in a vulnerable place… Linda didn’t want to see her get mixed up with a married man, especially a married man who could make things harder for them if the relationship went sideways.

  Octavia sighed. “What?”

  “What?” Linda asked.

  “I can hear you over there thinking… worrying.”

  Linda slowed to turn into the parking lot of the community college. “I’m not… anything.”

  “I noticed Stone waved when we dropped off the kids.”

  Linda’s pulse blipped. “Did he?” She spotted an empty parking spot and wheeled into it.

  “You know he did. Klo said you told him not to come to the house to mow the grass anymore.”

  “I’m going to let Jarrod do it. The grief counselor said he wants to contribute more to the running of the house.” She turned off the engine, then pulled her tote bag from the back seat.

  Octavia gathered her things. “Uh-huh. I think you like him.”

  Feeling flustered, Linda opened the door. “Stone? I do like him. He’s a nice guy.”

  “I mean you like him.”

  “What is this, sixth grade?”

  “It’s okay, Linda. You have to get on with your life someday. And personally, I think Stone Calvert is a better choice than Oakley Hall.” Octavia opened her door and swung down.

  Linda climbed out and slammed the door hard. “I know I have to get on with my life someday,” she practically shouted to her sister over the hood of the minivan. “And for the record, Stone isn’t a better choice than Oakley. Oakley is a stubborn, opinionated old-fashioned know-it-all, but he’s a catch!”

  Octavia waved to someone behind Linda. “Hi, Oakley.”

  “Hi, Octavia.”

  “Linda, I’ll see you in class.” Her sister turned to walk toward the classroom building.

  Linda closed her eyes. What was Oakley doing there? And had he heard her outburst?

  She rearranged her face into a smile and turned to see Detective Oakley Hall wearing a questioning expression. He had so heard her outburst. What must he think of her, shouting about having a man in her life when her husband—his oldest friend and former partner—was barely cold in the ground?

  “Hi, Linda.”

  “Hi,” she murmured.

  He was dressed in slacks and sport coat, his badge shining from his belt. A sprinkle of premature silver in his dark hair glinted in the sun. He was solid-bodied and handsome, his face nearly as familiar to her as Sullivan’s.

  “You doing okay? You seem upset about something.”

  Her cheeks flamed. “I’m… fine. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m teaching the segment of the investigation course on crime scene forensics.”

  “Ah. You must’ve known I’d be in this class. You could’ve said something.”

  “I didn’t want to come off like a know-it-all.”

  She coughed. “That’s a stubborn, opinionated old-fashioned know-it-all.”

  A grin curved his mouth. “And still, some people think I’m a catch.”

  Linda frowned and started walking toward the entrance. “Don’t let it go to your head,” she said over her shoulder. “And that comment was taken out of context.”

  He caught up to her in two strides. “I’d like to hear the context.”

  “It was a private, theoretical conversation.”

  “Comparing the merits of Stone Calvert and me?”

  “Drop it, Oakley.”

  “I think I should know if I’m in some kind of competition.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she murmured. “I let Octavia provoke me into saying something inappropriate. I’m sorry you overheard it.”

  Oakley opened the door and held it for her. “I’m not.”

  She strode past him. “Oakley, don’t.”

  “Why not? Linda, you know I’ve always had feelings—”

  “Wait.” She put out her hand as realization dawned. “This is the first time you’ve taught this class, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You’re spying on me.”

  He scoffed. “I’m looking out for you, that’s all. I want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. Investigation can be dangerous work.”

  She frowned. “More than a stay-at-home-Mom can handle, isn’t that what you mean?”

  He sobered. “To be honest, no, I don’t think you have the skills for it.”

  “That’s why I’m taking this class—to learn the skills.”

  Oakley gave a harsh laugh. “Investigative work is more than skills you learn in a class—it’s instinct, intellect, judgment, and life experience.”

  “None of which I have, right?”

  “Come on, Linda, you have to admit you’re not exactly worldly.”

  She pressed her lips together, then nodded. “You’re right, I’m not. I’ve spent the last ten years changing diapers and wiping noses and doing laundry and making treats for school bake sales.”

  “You’re a wonderful mother,” Oakley said, his voice warm with sincerity. “Domestic duties are important and should be applauded. But they don’t translate to being a P.I.”

  Linda studied his face. Oakley valued home and hearth, and like Sullivan, he had traditional views of men’s and women’s roles. And how could she be angry when she was guilty herself of settling for her role of housewife in order to keep Sullivan happy?

  “Maybe so,” she murmured, “but I’d like to finish the class.”

  “Don’t worry—if you don’t pass the exam, that bank job is still available.”

  She nodded.

  Oakley walked onto the elevator and held the door.

  “I don’t think we should walk in together,” she said. “I wouldn’t want the other students to get any ideas. I’ll take the stairs and see you inside.”

  “Okay, but… truce?” He extended his hand to her.

  She hesitated, then reached out to put her hand in his. She regretted it instantly because he intertwined their fingers and awareness shot up her arm. The crazy physical chemistry they’d had when they were younger was still palpable. She withdrew her hand. “I take back what I said to Octavia.”

  He brightened. “That I’m a stubborn, opinionated old-fashioned know-it-all?”

  She frowned. “No—that you’re a catch.” Linda turned and strode toward the stairs.

  Chapter 8

  “YOU’RE NOT going to give me any details?” Octavia asked.

  “None to tell,” Linda chirped. “Three cheese sticks and six Lifesavers, please.”

  Octavia was skeptical—the fact that Linda and Oakley had blatantly avoided each other during the Saturday class coupled with the fact that her sister was still so sensitive at the mention of Oakley’s name told her different. Plus yesterday Linda had been uncharacteristically quiet. She’d asked Octavia to watch the kids while she ran errands alone, then had come home and retreated to her bedroom with the workbook from the class.

  Even more curious, this morning she’d dressed in slacks and a top that wasn’t wash and wear.

  Octavia found the snack items and handed them over. “I noticed you didn’t go through the newspaper’s coupons yesterday.”

  “There are more interesting things to do in life than clip coupons.”

  Octavia blinked. “What have you done with my sister?”

  Linda closed the vending machine with a bang and locked it. “I noticed on the directory in the lobby there are six insurance agencies in this building. Why don’t we make some cold calls and see if they need an investigator?”

  “That’s a great idea.” She picked up one of the supply boxes and jogged after her sister. As they descended in the elevator, she decided she liked this new Linda. Whatever had transpired between her and Oakley had lit a fire under her. And Octavia was relieved because she didn’t want to see her sister get yoked to another man who would dim her bright light.

  In the lobby, they scanned the directory to memorize the office locations. Linda eyed the security guard warily and lowered her voice. “Let’s split up—and don’t forget to turn over your lanyard before you go in.”

  “Here are some business cards,” Octavia said, passing over a handful.

  “Let’s do this,” Linda said, looking like a boxer about to enter the ring.

  She walked to one elevator bay, so Octavia took the other. Juggling the cardboard box of snacks, she boarded the car and stabbed a floor button with her elbow. A smartly dressed auburn-haired woman with glasses walked on and frowned at the box full of snacks. Octavia gave her a bland smile, but the woman ignored her. Octavia knew that dismissive look because she’d perfected it herself back when she had social power. On this elevator, the woman trumped her. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, she walked off with authority and turned to the right.

  Octavia followed her but turned to the left to regroup. She found a space behind a large potted plant to hide the box, then turned her lanyard over and smoothed her clothes before following signs to the Everwild Insurance Agency. When she passed people in the hallway she gave them a nod that said, “I belong here.” At the glass door entrance, she paused to assess the company’s worth. The office space was elegantly understated. Employees moved efficiently among offices and workstations. The receptionist wore a stylish dress that Octavia had in her own closet in a different color from two seasons ago. Everwild would be a nice first addition to their client resume.

  She opened the door and offered a smile to the receptionist. “Hello. I’m Octavia Guy and I’d like to speak to the person who handles your investigations.”

  The woman offered a small smile. “Are you a current customer?”

  “No, I’m an investigator.” She handed the woman a business card.

  The woman scanned the card, then gave her a dubious look. “Do you have an appointment, Ms. Guy?”

  “No. I was in the building visiting another client and thought I’d stop by to touch base. Just a courtesy call.”

  The receptionist gave a curt nod. “One moment, please.” She turned to pick up a phone receiver, then pressed a button. Octavia couldn’t hear the conversation, but she offered a smile when the woman’s eyes flitted back to her. When the receptionist set down the phone, she said, “Ms. Everwild has five minutes.”

  “Everwild?” Octavia tamped down her reaction—she hadn’t expected to meet the owner. “Yes… thank you.”

  “Right this way,” the woman said.

  “What’s her first name?”

  “Rogena. You should know the name of the person who owns the business you’re calling on.”

  “Duly noted.”

  Octavia followed her, mentally practicing her pitch and envisioning Linda’s face when she announced she’d closed a big client. But when she saw the woman sitting behind the expansive desk, her heart sank.

  It was the woman from the elevator, and the smirk on her face when she recognized Octavia was prophetic.

  “Rogena, this is Octavia Guy,” the receptionist said, handing her the agency’s business card.

  Rogena Everwild scanned the card, then set it aside. “Unfortunately, I realize I don’t have time in my schedule after all.”

  Octavia stepped forward. “Please, just give me five minutes.”

  The woman pursed her mouth, then nodded to the receptionist. Once the other woman had left, she lifted her eyebrows. “You fill vending machines and you’re an investigator?”

  “That’s right,” Octavia said, lifting her chin. “Filling vending machines allows me entry to nearly every building in town.”

  The woman crossed her arms. “Go on.”

  “I suspect I don’t look like the investigators you normally use. Let me guess—male and muscle-y?” She accepted the woman’s silence as a yes. “That gives me an edge—people won’t suspect I’m anything other than a well-dressed woman with a haircut that’s too chic for Lexington.”

  Rogena’s mouth quirked. “It is a cute cut.”

  “Thanks, I’ll share the name of my Louisville stylist if you like.”

  “Louisville? You have contacts in Jefferson County?”

  “I lived there for the past ten years.”

  “Any connections at the courthouse?”

  Her only connection was Richard, who was squatting in a Louisville jail. “Of course.”

  Rogena’s body language softened. “And how long have you been an investigator?”

  Octavia considered lying again but thought better of it. “My sister and I just opened our agency, off New Circle Road.”

  “I’m familiar with that part of town,” the woman said in a flat tone, indicating she’d noticed the address on the card.

  “Do you need an investigator?”

  “We use the Duncan agency.”

  “Oh, I know Dunk,” Octavia said. “We attended UK at the same time and we’re still friends.”

  “So I can call Dunk as a reference?” Rogena asked.

  Octavia gave a little laugh. “I doubt Dunk would be happy about losing business, even to a friend.”

  Rogena considered her at length, then her expression closed. “I’ll keep your agency in mind.”

  Octavia tamped down her disappointment and rallied with a smile. “Thank you. Please do.” But as she was leaving, she saw the woman toss the business card in her trash can.

  She retraced her steps to the reception area and exited, then decided to leave the hidden box of supplies where it was while she made the other cold calls.

  Unfortunately, she hit a brick wall both times. In one case she got past the receptionist but was turned down flat by the man who assigned investigators.

  “Not interested,” he said, passing back her business card. Then he’d offered her a nauseating smile. “But I’m available for lunch.”

  She’d smiled back and gestured to his paunch. “You should skip lunch—and dinner. Goodbye.”

  At the third agency, the receptionist said they only worked with the Duncan agency but promised to pass along her business card.

  Defeated, Octavia rode the elevator back down and trudged to where she’d left the box of supplies, then gave it a swift kick. The resulting rattle said she’d probably shattered all the potato chips, but she didn’t give a crap. It was clear Dunk had secured most of the insurance business in town with his team of investigators. Maybe she should accept his offer to work for him to build up a resume.

  Then she frowned. Fuck that.

  With new resolve, she marched back to the lobby of the Everwild Agency and past the receptionist.

  “Wait—you can’t…”

  She heard the woman trying to catch up with her, but she jogged to Rogena Everwild’s office and walked in.

  “I’m sorry, Rogena,” the receptionist said, sliding to a stop.

  The woman lifted her hand. “It’s okay, Jenny. I’ll handle this.”

  After the receptionist slunk away, Octavia blurted, “Give me your worst case.”