A Little Too Late (Madigan Mountain #1)(46)

“Yep,” she says. “It’s not as comfortable as yours. And I moved all your stuff in here from Harper’s room. Be grateful.”

“Oh. Well. Make yourself at home. Favorite selection from the room service menu?”

“The artichoke dip,” she says.

“Okay, what’s your second favorite?”

“The taquitos. And don’t kick me out until you hear what I dug up today. I’ve been a busy girl while I run up your tab.”

“Excellent. Hold on.” I place a food order on the room phone. Then I go into the bedroom and change out of my suit.

By the time I get back, Sheila and Ava are sharing the sofa, their feet up together, and discussing…shoes, maybe? Something girly like that.

But Ava is smiling now, so I guess I won’t kick Sheila out just yet. Ava hasn’t given me a smile since last night, and I’m a little worried about it.

“So what’s this news?” I ask Sheila when I can get a word in edgewise.

She opens her laptop and spins it around to show me a summary she’s written of Sharpe acquisitions from the past five years. “They have a few unsatisfied customers,” she says. “The seller of an eco-friendly golf course in Arizona told Bloomberg News that the Sharpes had promised never to use pesticides. But after they bought the place, they reversed all the ecological choices the seller had made.”

“Ouch,” I say. “Anything else?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” my assistant says. “The beach resort owner tells a similar story. She’d explained the environmental constraints of owning beachfront property, but they cut down a whole lot of trees and then just paid the fines they were levied.”

Ava rubs her forehead and sighs. “Do you happen to have any ibuprofen?”

“Sure he does!” Sheila says with a grin. “Boss, cure this woman’s headache.”

“Easy enough,” I say without rising from the chair. “Tell the Sharpes to take a hike.”

Ava frowns. And I get up to get her the painkillers.





Twenty minutes later, we’re eating appetizers and watching a blue dot move across my laptop screen as the Sharpes drive my rental car right past the highway entrance that would take them to Denver.

“Maybe they’re just going to dinner locally,” Sheila suggests. “But they wanted some privacy.”

Ava looks thoughtful. “Or maybe they’re meeting someone for drinks and then going to Denver?”

“But who?” I press. “And why not mention that?”

Ava sighs. “I don’t know, 007. But there could be a perfectly rational explanation.”

“Let’s see where they end up,” I say lightly. The direction of the car has already piqued my interest. The Sharpes are heading into Penny Ridge. A back-country skier could carve a direct path into town, but vehicles have to take a half-moon-shaped route around Madigan Mountain to get to Penny Ridge’s Main Street.

The blue dot moves slowly, but it’s not that big a town, and we’ll know in a few seconds if they’ll stop, or if they’ll turn toward the west and wander into the foothills.

“They passed the highway entrance a few miles ago, right?” Sheila asks.

“Right.”

“Maybe they just wanted to get a look at the town before getting on the highway?” Ava suggests.

I chuckle. “Maybe. Haven’t they been to Penny Ridge before?”

“Not Grandpa,” Ava says.

“Okay, sure,” I say. “A little sightseeing before dinner.”

Ava dips another wedge of pita into the artichoke dip and chews nervously. “Watching them is bizarre. I feel dirty.”

I lift my eyes to meet hers and watch as she blushes profusely. Her scowl says, not like that, dummy.

“When they were getting into the car,” Ava says, “Trey told me their reservation was at Corinne in downtown Denver. But they didn’t say for when.”

“You could check with the restaurant,” I point out.

She gives me a furious glare and then taps at her phone for a moment before placing a call. “Hello! Yes! My boss asked me to verify the timing of his reservation tonight. Last name is Sharpe, S-H-A-R-P-E.” She waits. And waits. I can feel the anxiety rolling off her straight spine.

Meanwhile, the blue dot on the tracking app stops moving. I zoom in as far as the software will allow. It shows me exactly which building they’re parked outside. Interesting.

“Okay. Sorry. I must have the wrong night. Thank you.” Ava hangs up and bows her head. “That bastard lied to my face,” she whispers.

“Unless the reservation was under another name,” I suggest gently.

She lifts her chin and pins me with sad eyes. “It won’t be. You were right, damn it. Something is off with them.”

I feel no satisfaction at being right. But I doubt she knows that. For a half second, I actually think it would have been better if I hadn’t bothered to show up here in Colorado.

But that’s not right, either. She’d end up working for these pricks.

Looking away from her defeated gaze, I take my phone and dial my father.

He answers on the first ring. “Yeah? Reed?”

“Dad, can I borrow your car?”