The Girl and the Secret Society (Emma Griffin FBI Mystery Book 9) by A.J. Rivers

Author:A.J. Rivers [Rivers, A.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"So, you still didn't get a chance to talk to Eleanor Goldman?" I ask.

I'm outside in shorts that barely qualify for the name or for admission into public spaces, braving the stifling heat to try to battle back the weeds taking over the garden behind my house. I briefly toyed with the idea of having a vegetable garden this year, romanticizing the joy of watching the plants grow and making a salad out of my bounty.

Then the heat hit, and I've settled for an indoor fern and the flowers left over from last year. Maybe the vegetables will come next season.

"No," Dean sighs. "I just keep getting the runaround. It seems as if everybody else is, too. So at least that makes me feel a bit better. But that might be changing soon. I did manage to track down the owner of the house Mason and Eleanor rented. Her name is Lilith Duprey. She's owned it for years, but it's been used as a rental for a few different families for the last ten years. It's listed as having been taken off the market about four months before Mason and Eleanor got married. I'm assuming that's when they rented it."

"Have you talked to Lilith?" I ask, rocking back onto my heels and using the back of my arm to wipe sweat away from my forehead.

"Not yet. But we're tracking her down. She only has a P.O. box. There would need to be a warrant to get more information about the registration for that box, but I don't think it's important enough to find her that anybody is actually going to go to that extent. Besides, if I don't miss my guess, that box was registered to her when she still lived in the Salt Valley house, so that would be the address on it, anyway."

"Babe?"

I hear Sam calling to me from inside the house, and I climb to my feet.

"Sam just got home. I'll give you a call later," I tell Dean.

"Yep. I'll keep you updated."

We hang up, and I head inside through the smaller back door that leads into the mudroom just outside the laundry room.

"Sam? I'm in here, honey," I call out when I get inside.

He walks through the laundry room door, and his eyes grow wide.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" he asks.

I look down at the cutoffs and tank top, both streaked with dirt that matches very well to the dirt streaks down both of my legs. I'm sure there are a couple of accent patches on my face, too.

"I mean, yes. I am currently, at the moment, wearing this," I frown.

"To the reception," he clarifies.

I kick off my shoes and nudge them across the sealed cement floor to the small pile of outdoor shoes. There are different pairs for different seasons, so I can toss a pair on no matter what time of year it is. Those off, I step into the laundry room and peel off my tank top.

"What reception?" I ask. I sag.

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