Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“I don’t have much,” I admitted. “The prints all belonged to people who were cleared to be in the brewery. You didn’t keep your office locked, so any of your employees could have tried that drawer looking for a pencil or rubber band and left their prints behind.”
“Shit,” Avery said under her breath. “And the cameras?” She spoke the word cameras as if it had four letters and they all tasted bad. I thought I understood.
The cameras were part of being a Sawyer. Avery liked to think of herself solely as the proprietress of her brewery. I got it because I’d been in the same situation. Being the son of the mayor in a small town wasn’t always simple. Especially when your father expects you to live your life following precisely in each of his footsteps. Valedictorian in high school, off to Chapel Hill, then to law school, and then finally into his seat in the mayor’s office so I could kiss Prentice Sawyer’s ass the way my father had spent his life doing.
No thanks. It had come as a great shock to both my father and Prentice that I didn’t intend to join his crowd of enthusiastic lackeys. I knew all about wanting to be your own person, but Avery couldn’t escape being a Sawyer, and these days that came with security.
Ever since Prentice had been murdered, his killer had been coming after the remaining Sawyers. While he was away, Griffen had worked for Sinclair Security, one of the top private security agencies in the country. He knew what he was doing. When he moved in, he had his former employers set up Heartstone Manor’s alarms and cameras and brought in Hawk Bristol to oversee everything. Hawk didn’t take any chances. He hadn’t just wired Heartstone Manor—he’d tightened security everywhere: Quinn’s guide business, the Inn at Sawyers Bend, and Sawyers Bend Brewing.
I’d learned from talking to Hawk that the door the perp had used at the brewery was the one door they didn’t have coverage on—a pushback from Avery. Whoever had broken in had used Avery’s alarm code, and either had a key or had expertly picked the lock. Since Avery had changed the locks that day, and only she and Cammie had the keys, I was going with option two. That left the suspect pool wide open, including Avery’s asshole ex-brewmaster. Unless Cammie was in on it. As much as my gut had a firm line through her name, I had to keep Cammie on the list of potential suspects. At this point, I couldn’t discount anyone. Except maybe Avery. And that was only because Hawk had confirmed she’d come home in time for dinner and hadn’t left the Manor until the following morning.
I wished I had something concrete to tell her. “Whoever it was got in and out without being caught on the cameras. Which meant they either got lucky, or they knew there was a blind spot because they worked there, or scoped it out ahead of time. I’m not giving up, but I don’t have much at this point.”
Avery nodded, accepting my lack of news more easily than I expected. That couldn’t be good. Proving me right, she leaned forward, her dark eyes intent on mine. “I want to see the necklace. I asked Quinn, and she said you had it, that you took it for safekeeping after the break-in at Harvey’s offices.”
I was shaking my head before she could finish, trying not to smile as she ground her teeth at my negative response. There’d always been something about Avery Sawyer. In a house full of children who lived on guard against their father, against each other, she’d always burned bright. She kept to herself, but she wasn’t timid or afraid to go after what she wanted. Sitting there with her cheeks flushed pink and her jaw set, she was almost irresistible. Almost. I wasn’t going there. Aside from the fact that she was eight years younger than me, and she was Griffen’s little sister, she’d drive me insane in a week. She was too headstrong, too reckless. I liked order in my life, and Avery was the opposite.
“I don’t have the necklace,” I said. “I gave it back to Harvey.”
“Why?” Avery protested. “It was evidence.” She slumped back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, momentarily stymied.
“Not officially,” I told her. “Harvey asked me to hold on to it, and then he asked for it back. And as much as you might think that necklace is proof of anything, right now, it’s just a necklace. We don’t know who it belonged to or how it got to the cabin. I had no good reason to keep it.”
Avery’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything. I guessed she was formulating an argument. She and her sisters believed the necklace was the key to finding Prentice’s mystery bride, the woman he’d hinted he was bringing back to the Manor to install as the new Mrs. Sawyer. Their theory was that he’d been murdered over their relationship, and if they could discover who she was, they’d know who killed Prentice. Maybe. But Prentice Sawyer never had any shortage of mistresses or enemies. People all over the country hated him for a wide range of reasons. Any one of them could have shot him. We had no proof that the murder had anything to do with the new Mrs. Sawyer.