“I won’t say anything,” Graham agreed, keenly aware of the growing weight of the secrets he was keeping.
He felt Alice’s presence a split-second before Scarlet frowned. “Can I help you?”
Chapter 13
Alice had a keen sense for ‘interrupting something awkward.’ Teaching middle school students was basically made of those moments.
The door to Scarlet’s office was open, and Alice was drifting in before she realized that the warm, welcoming sensation she was feeling was only from her bear, recognizing Graham’s broad back before Alice even registered it.
“I won’t say anything,” he was growling, in that voice that made her shiver despite her best efforts.
“Can I help you?” Scarlet asked sharply.
For a moment, Alice completely forgot why she had come, her senses swamped with Graham. Down girl, she told her bear firmly. She smiled resolutely, ignoring the tension in the room and pretending her own entrance hadn’t been its own special form of awkward. “Yes, actually!” she said cheerfully. “I’m putting together the scrapbook for Mary’s wedding, and I had some questions I was hoping you could help me answer...”
Graham glanced at her once and looked away so quickly that Alice wondered if eyeballs could get whiplash.
Then he turned and walked out without a single word more, leaving her feeling irrationally bereft.
I don’t need him, she reminded herself.
Her bear had strong alternate opinions.
She looked back to find Scarlet giving her an unreadable look, and laughed inelegantly. “He doesn’t say much, does he?”
Scarlet looked at her without saying anything for a long moment, then smiled rather stiffly and moved the pile of paperwork before her on the desk off to the side. “Was there something specific you were looking for?” she asked politely, gesturing to the chair opposite. “For your... scrapbook?”
Alice wondered if there was sympathy in Scarlet’s eyes, and decided she would take a conversation out of pity if it would help her find more clues. She sat down in the chair and made a show of opening the notebook that she had taped a few photos of Mary and Neal to.
“I was hoping you had some photographs of their visit here, or maybe some stories.”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Scarlet said simply.
Alice didn’t really have a plan, other than to try to get Scarlet to open up and start chatting.
“Well, I was thinking about doing a bit about the resort itself, since that’s where they met. Can you tell me a little about how it got started and when you took it over?”
Scarlet regarded her for a moment, and then said, with suspicious neutrality, “The resort was designed and nearly entirely built by Aaric Lyons in the early 80s. Upon his disappearance, his son sold this half of the island to Beehag. Four years ago, I secured a lease to restart the resort and got it into operation.”
“That must have been a lot of work,” Alice said encouragingly.
“Yes,” Scarlet answered briefly. Then, reluctantly, “I have an excellent staff.”
“Graham and Travis were among the first people working here, right?” Dammit, how had the topic gotten around to Graham? Alice stumbled on. “It was almost forty years—the jungle must have really grown everything over in that time. I bet it took a long time to cut back the overgrowth.”
Scarlet was silent.
“So, um, okay...” Alice looked down at her pathetic scrapbook, trying not to think about Graham with a machete, beating back jungle vines. Shirtless.
“You’re not really here looking for information about Mary and Neal,” Scarlet observed.
Alice blushed. She was terrible at this spy stuff. She thought about her brother, and her parents, and had to make an effort to draw herself together. Scarlet made her feel like she’d been called to the principal’s office. Did she know about the man with the business card who had sent Alice? N. Padrikanth Moore, the pretentious name had been, no business name, or logo, or any hints as to what kind of person he was. But good people didn’t generally make offers of fifty million dollars to snoop shifter types out.
“I’m sorry to pry,” she said hastily. “I really was hoping to put something nice together for them, but I’ve kind of run into a dead end.” She gave the most natural smile she could manage. “I didn’t mean to be a bother.”
Scarlet’s expression became... complicated. It wasn’t disgust, and it wasn’t anger, but it also wasn’t quite pity, or anything else Alice could put her finger on.
“Graham,” Scarlet said quietly.