see exactly what happened when Logan and the others went into Helene’s office,” Sissy Lee explained, “but he said he saw this clown running out the back.”
“A clown. You mean like something in a circus? Or a horror novel?” Because Reese wasn’t sure if Sissy Lee meant that word in a general sense.
“Circus or rodeo kind of clown,” Sissy Lee verified. “Walter said when Logan came out he looked like he’d seen a ghost. He’s never been the same since.”
Lucky had been so sure that the gossips had filled Reese in by now, but obviously the townsfolk didn’t know as much as the McCords thought they did.
“Of course, we don’t know who the clown was,” Sissy Lee went on. “I thought it was Brian, the guy who worked for Helene, but it turns out that he’s gay. Of course, I guess he could actually be bi or else—”
“How long ago did that clown stuff happen to Logan?” Reese interrupted.
Sissy Lee shrugged. “This past summer.”
That fit with Reese’s timeline of her one-night stand three months ago. Maybe.
Sissy Lee put Logan’s boxed burger meal aside, and while Reese dished up Daniel’s plate, she got an idea. “Where do the McCords live? Because I’ll have a break soon, and I can drop that off to him.”
“It’s that big house on the edge of town. Can’t miss it. Except Logan doesn’t spend much time there anymore. You know that Victorian building just up the street? Well, that’s his office, and he has a loft apartment there.”
Reese had noticed the house. In fact, she was in the Bluebonnet Inn on the same block. She checked the time—still an hour before her break, but maybe Logan’s assistant wouldn’t come for the burger before then.
Because Reese wanted to get inside that building. She had some spying to do.
* * *
“REESE STEPHENS.” Logan repeated her name under his breath as he read the initial report the private investigator had just sent him.
There wasn’t much info yet, but then when Logan had called the PI the day before, the man had said it might take a while, that the woman wasn’t showing up in his usual search engines.
There had to be a reason for that.
Logan didn’t know what game she was playing, but she was up to something. No doubt about it. After all, she had that photo of him on her phone, so even if she’d been too drunk to remember, she would have seen it later and then recognized him at the café. Of course, there was the possibility that she hadn’t known whether it was Lucky or him who’d gotten into that hotel bed with her, but there was still no reason for her not to fess up.
No good reason, anyway.
So, why was she here in Spring Hill? The private investigator’s initial report certainly didn’t help with that. Her name was Reese Violet Stephens. She was twenty-nine, single. She’d attended culinary school in New Orleans and worked as a cook or chef at various restaurants all over the US. However, she’d never stayed at any of them for more than a couple of months. No criminal record—under that name, anyway.
And that was it.
She had no social media accounts, no driver’s license, no paper trail that people usually left. That only made Logan even more suspicious. The PI, too, and that’s why he was digging deeper. Hopefully, that digging wouldn’t take too long.
Logan parked in the circular drive in front of his family’s home, and he hadn’t even stepped from his truck before he got a whiff of what Lucky and he had discussed the day before.
The manure.
Yeah, it was a problem all right. The bulls had already been moved, but it might take a while for the stench to clear out.
He was about to head up the steps to the porch when his phone buzzed, and after Logan saw the name on the screen, he knew it was a call he had to take.
Bert Starkley, the owner of the Fork and Spoon Café.
Logan had called him the night before, but Bert hadn’t answered so Logan had left him a voice mail. Nothing specific and Logan had to make sure he didn’t say anything to Reese’s employer that would make the man suspicious. Or make Bert think Logan was interested in her. The last thing Logan needed was more gossip about him and a woman. Especially a woman who was almost certainly bad news.
Later, he’d curse himself again for that one-night stand, but now he needed to find out anything he could about her.
“Logan?” Bert said when he answered. “Is everything okay?”
It was a valid question, considering that Logan had never before called the man. “Everything’s fine.” And he chose his next words carefully. “I was at the café yesterday for lunch—”
“Yep, I heard. Sissy Lee,” Bert added as if that explained everything. Which it did. The waitress had no doubt blabbed to everyone that Logan had left the café in a hurry.
“I had to leave for a meeting,” Logan lied. He hated liars, but this little white one was necessary. Even if Bert didn’t totally believe that lie, maybe he’d still repeat it to diffuse some of Sissy Lee’s gossip. And he didn’t have to think hard to imagine what that gossip might entail. It almost certainly hinged on Helene.
“Sissy Lee mentioned the meeting, too,” Bert verified. “How can I help you? Is this about the catering job?”
Logan frowned. “What catering job?”
“Something Della wanted us to do for her.”
This was the first Logan was hearing about it, but then he was too busy to get involved with the daily workings of the house. “No. I was calling about your new cook.” Logan left it at that, to see what Bert would volunteer about her.
But nothing.
Clearly, Bert was waiting to see what Logan would volunteer.
“Renee?” Logan finally said. “Is that her name?”
“Reese.” Again, that was it. Hell, Bert wasn’t cooperating with this at all.
“She looked familiar,” Logan continued. “I just wondered how you’d found her?”
“She came into the café, asked about the help-wanted sign that I had in the window. I gave her a trial run to see if she could cook. She can, by the way. I hope you enjoyed that burger she fixed.”
He hadn’t. Logan hadn’t eaten a bite of it, so rather than lie again, he just made a sound of approval. “Reese dropped it off at my office after I had to leave. I wasn’t there, but she left it with Greg.”
Considering Logan had told Reese that Greg would be picking it up in the first place, he was even more suspicious that the woman had personally delivered it.
“You probably heard that Maggie’s got to have some surgery,” Bert added a moment later.
Maggie, Bert’s wife,
