“Chief Mason,” Clara said, setting down a stack of maps. “Didn’t expect to see you today. Sergeant Harris was just here.”
“Oh, right… I’m just double-checking that I have things straight.” Sam pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled to the photo of Beryl and Derek.
Clara adjusted her glasses, leaning in to examine the picture. “This is the same picture she showed me.”
“It is,” Sam said, keeping his tone even. “Just double-checking that this is the man that came in lastweek looking for maps of Garvin’s land.” He enlarged the image to show Derek McDaniels.
Clara squinted at the photo, her brow furrowing. “Him? Oh, no. Not him.” She pointed to the back of the image, her finger landing squarely on a figure just visible near the edge. “That one. The man in the background.”
Sam’s eyes shifted to where she was pointing. Desmond Griggs.
His gut tightened, though he kept his face neutral. “You’re sure?”
“Positive,” Clara replied, straightening in her chair. “That’s the man who came in asking about the blueprints. He seemed particularly interested in the property lines between Garvin’s land on River Road and the adjoining parcels.”
Sam nodded, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Thanks, Clara. That’s helpful.”
Clara smiled faintly. “Glad to assist. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I will,” Sam said, already heading for the door.
Outside, Sam paused on the steps, letting the cold air clear his head. Griggs. The man was a known troublemaker, but what the heck was he doing asking about Garvin’s land? And how did he connect to BerylThorne? Did he work for her? He’d been at Marnie’s campaign office. How did it all tie in?
The picture was shifting. Sam replayed his earlier conversation with Derek in his mind. Maybe the son was telling the truth after all. He hadn’t been the one poking around the surveyor’s office. Sam would still check Derek’s alibis, but now, he suspected they might pan out.
Sam exhaled sharply and headed for his car. One thing was certain—Beryl Thorne’s fingerprints were all over this mess. From her meeting with Derek to the envelope she’d handed Marnie, it all circled back to her. She was the common denominator.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, Sam made a mental note. Next stop: Parker Studies. Whatever Beryl had her hands in, it started there. And this time, he wasn’t walking away without answers.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Jo stood in front of the side door to Parker Studies, hidden away behind a row of shrubs. The faint smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air, the ground littered with butts, as if someone had taken a break here recently. Her hand hovered over the door handle, her heart racing.
The other two entrances to Parker Studies had been locked tight. No phone number, no website, nothing. It was as if the place didn’t exist. She’d tried to dig up something—anything—before coming here. No contact information, no way to schedule a meeting. Nothing.
Her gut told her there was something off about this place. Convale Energy was tied up in all of thissomehow, and whatever Parker Studies was doing here, it wasn’t out in the open. It reminded her of one of those secret government facilities in the movies, the kind you weren’t supposed to know about. The kind that dealt with things people weren’t supposed to see.
When she’d found this side door, tucked away in the shadows, she’d been shocked to see it was slightly open. Not fully ajar but not latched either. A small twig caught underneath had kept it from closing.
Jo’s hand tightened on the handle, and she hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t supposed to be here.
But her instincts as a cop wouldn’t let her walk away. There were answers inside this place, and she wasn’t leaving until she got closer to the truth.
With a deep breath, Jo slipped through the door and into the building. She bent down to remove the twig so no one would know the door had been left open.
The inside was cold. Sterile. She paused just inside the side door, unsure of what to do next. She hadn’t told Sam she was doing this. She’d left him in the dark. She was officially off the case, and the less he knew about her rule bending, the better it would be for him.
The hallway stretched out in front of her, long andnarrow, and it hit her immediately that something was weird about this place. There was no reception desk, no lobby area—just a maze of sterile corridors, all lined with white doors that were shut tight. It didn’t feel like a normal business.
She paused by one of the closed doors, pressing her ear against it. Faint sounds—machines whirring, maybe? But no voices. The whole place felt wrong.
She continued down the hall, glancing over her shoulder every few steps, coming up with what she would say if someone was going to come out of one of these rooms and confront her.
That was when she heard the voices.
“...a breach?” A woman’s voice, low and professional, echoed from a corridor ahead. “The door was left open longer than it should’ve been. We need to check the east wing.”
Another voice, this one male, replied, “Make sure no one’s inside. If someone’s here, lock it down.”