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Authors: Christy Barritt
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someone new? Derek was a self-proclaimed playboy. Those malpractice attorneys seemed like they could twist and turn anything to get what they wanted. Would he have gone as far as to kidnap an old classmate?
None of my theories made sense. Not yet. First, I needed more information.
I heard the door open not far away and someone say, “I’m just going to go on a walk and stretch my legs some.”
I glanced back, and Clint appeared in my view.
Clint.
He was leaving his hotel room and walking in the opposite direction.
I made a split-second decision and slipped away from the tour group to run after him. “Clint!”
He slowed and turned to face me. Grief lined his eyes, as well as uncertainty.
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. “I’m not sure if you remember me. Gabby St. Claire.”
He nodded, glancing behind me before meeting my gaze again. “Yeah, I remember.”
I pulled a hair behind my ear, trying to collect my thoughts. “How are you?” I fell in step beside him as he started down the hallway at a lazy pace.
He shrugged. “As well as you can imagine.”
“Anything new on Jackie?”
He shook his head. “We’re just counting down the time.”
“In case I haven’t said this, I’m really sorry.”
He nodded and stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets. “Thanks.”
“Look, I know this sounds weird, but can I ask you a few questions?”
He stopped and stared at me. “About?”
“About Jackie.” I locked gazes with him, hoping he could see the sincerity in my eyes. He stared at me as if trying to determine if I was trustworthy or not. When I thought he was going to refuse, I offered, “I was a professional investigator for a while. I may be able to help.”
Finally, he nodded. “I guess.”
We started walking again, though I had no idea where we were going. We were ambling aimlessly, I supposed, but that was okay with me. “Who knew she was coming here this week?”
“Everyone in her office back in Atlanta, I suppose.”
“Was there anyone in particular she was having trouble with? Maybe someone she argued with? Someone who threatened her?” We reached the stairs and started down them.
“What are you getting at?”
“I was just thinking about it, and someone had to know she was going to be here. They had to follow her from her home.”
He glanced at me and squinted. “So, you think someone from Atlanta is behind this?”
I shrugged. “I think it’s someone who knew her.”
He stayed quiet for a moment. “One of her colleagues is here this week. His name is Doug Matthews, I think.”
We reached the lobby and kept walking until we were outside. Warm sunlight hit us. Clint threw his head back and soaked it in for a moment, looking desperate for some sort of relief from the agony he had to be experiencing.
“Did she ever have any problems with Doug?”
Clint shook his head. “I don’t know. She didn’t talk about work a lot, especially not with me.”
“When did you guys get here?”
“Me and Jackie? We got here Saturday evening. Why?”
I ignored his question. “How about the rest of the Georgetown gang? When did they arrive?”
He rubbed his chin. “Derek and Lillian got here at lunchtime yesterday. That Jack guy probably came an hour later. Then you and your guy. Lane must have come when we were looking for Jackie.”
“Did you talk to anyone yesterday? Have lunch together?”
He stared at me a moment. “Do you think one of her friends is behind this?”
“I’m not thinking anything. I’m just asking questions.”
His hand moved from his chin to his cheek, the rubbing motion becoming more vigorous. “We chatted with Derek and Lillian in the lobby. That’s when Jackie said she wanted to go on a hike.”
“She didn’t invite her friends with her? They haven’t seen each other in years.”
“I dunno, man. They’d just gotten here and hadn’t even unpacked. That Lillian lady was wearing a suit—on a Sunday, and she
None of my theories made sense. Not yet. First, I needed more information.
I heard the door open not far away and someone say, “I’m just going to go on a walk and stretch my legs some.”
I glanced back, and Clint appeared in my view.
Clint.
He was leaving his hotel room and walking in the opposite direction.
I made a split-second decision and slipped away from the tour group to run after him. “Clint!”
He slowed and turned to face me. Grief lined his eyes, as well as uncertainty.
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. “I’m not sure if you remember me. Gabby St. Claire.”
He nodded, glancing behind me before meeting my gaze again. “Yeah, I remember.”
I pulled a hair behind my ear, trying to collect my thoughts. “How are you?” I fell in step beside him as he started down the hallway at a lazy pace.
He shrugged. “As well as you can imagine.”
“Anything new on Jackie?”
He shook his head. “We’re just counting down the time.”
“In case I haven’t said this, I’m really sorry.”
He nodded and stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets. “Thanks.”
“Look, I know this sounds weird, but can I ask you a few questions?”
He stopped and stared at me. “About?”
“About Jackie.” I locked gazes with him, hoping he could see the sincerity in my eyes. He stared at me as if trying to determine if I was trustworthy or not. When I thought he was going to refuse, I offered, “I was a professional investigator for a while. I may be able to help.”
Finally, he nodded. “I guess.”
We started walking again, though I had no idea where we were going. We were ambling aimlessly, I supposed, but that was okay with me. “Who knew she was coming here this week?”
“Everyone in her office back in Atlanta, I suppose.”
“Was there anyone in particular she was having trouble with? Maybe someone she argued with? Someone who threatened her?” We reached the stairs and started down them.
“What are you getting at?”
“I was just thinking about it, and someone had to know she was going to be here. They had to follow her from her home.”
He glanced at me and squinted. “So, you think someone from Atlanta is behind this?”
I shrugged. “I think it’s someone who knew her.”
He stayed quiet for a moment. “One of her colleagues is here this week. His name is Doug Matthews, I think.”
We reached the lobby and kept walking until we were outside. Warm sunlight hit us. Clint threw his head back and soaked it in for a moment, looking desperate for some sort of relief from the agony he had to be experiencing.
“Did she ever have any problems with Doug?”
Clint shook his head. “I don’t know. She didn’t talk about work a lot, especially not with me.”
“When did you guys get here?”
“Me and Jackie? We got here Saturday evening. Why?”
I ignored his question. “How about the rest of the Georgetown gang? When did they arrive?”
He rubbed his chin. “Derek and Lillian got here at lunchtime yesterday. That Jack guy probably came an hour later. Then you and your guy. Lane must have come when we were looking for Jackie.”
“Did you talk to anyone yesterday? Have lunch together?”
He stared at me a moment. “Do you think one of her friends is behind this?”
“I’m not thinking anything. I’m just asking questions.”
His hand moved from his chin to his cheek, the rubbing motion becoming more vigorous. “We chatted with Derek and Lillian in the lobby. That’s when Jackie said she wanted to go on a hike.”
“She didn’t invite her friends with her? They haven’t seen each other in years.”
“I dunno, man. They’d just gotten here and hadn’t even unpacked. That Lillian lady was wearing a suit—on a Sunday, and she
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