Dark Harmony: A Vivienne Taylor Horse Lover's Mystery (Fairmont Riding Academy Book 2) by Scott Michele

Author:Scott, Michele [Scott, Michele]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Skyscape
Published: 2014-05-20T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER thirty

Hey, Creeper,” I say as Nate opens the door to his room.

“Oh God. What now? I gave you what you wanted. Can’t you just shoo like the little fly you are?”

“Funny . . . and no, I can’t.”

Nate looks at Riley. “Why do you hang out with this chick, man?”

“We didn’t come here to trade insults,” Riley says. “Vivienne has brought me up-to-date and there’s one thing we want to know—when the woman gave you the money.”

“What are you guys, like all CSI now?”

“Just answer the question,” Riley says.

“Fine,” Nate says with a shrug of his huge shoulders. “She said to meet her at a coffee shop the next day. But when I got there, some other lady was there to give me the money. Not a hot one, either. She was kind of short and fat. She sat down across from me at the table I was at and handed me an envelope with the cash in it. Then she left.”

“Did she say anything?” I ask.

“Just, ‘Here is something for you.’ ”

“That’s it?” Riley asks.

“Yes.”

I look at Riley and then back at Nate. I think he is actually being honest. “What coffee shop?” I ask.

“Vick’s down in Malibu.”

Riley puts out a hand to Nate. “Thanks, man,” he says. “Thanks for telling us.”

Nate shakes Riley’s hand but shoots me a look. “Scholarship, just remember, we’re done.”

I narrow my eyes at him in disgust.

“What are you thinking?” Riley asks, as we walk away.

“That clearly there are two women involved in making Martina disappear, but why, I don’t know. I do think it ties into the tabloid articles, but how and why, I don’t know.” I repeat myself because sometimes that seems to get my brain working.

“I have an idea,” Riley says.

“What’s that?”

“Did you see if all of those articles in The Hollywood Scene were written by the same reporter?”

I shake my head.

He smiles. “I say we check it out.”

I think I know what Riley is thinking, but we need to do a little research first. Back at my room, we look up the articles on the computer. Sure enough, it’s the same reporter on all of the stories—a woman named Tracy Sanford.

“Do an image search,” Riley says.

I do, and when an image of Tracy Sanford pops up, we both look at each other and simultaneously say, “No way!”

“Field trip?” I ask.

“Yep,” he replies.

“We need a car,” I say.

“Tristan?”

I nod.

“You gonna tell him why?” he asks.

“I probably should. He’s going to ask.”

“Yeah. But he’s going to think we’re nuts.”

“Probably,” I reply. “Definitely. I mean, if we had been able to bring him in on it from the get-go when I tried calling earlier, but now . . .”

“Tell you what, I’ll handle it. We’ll go after class tomorrow.”

“What are you going to say?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about it, Vivvie.” He winks at me and leaves my room.

Honestly, sometimes guys drive me insane.

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