Page 38 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

Scarlet glances toward him. “Only recreationally.”

My attention goes to her mouth.

Tom looks like he regrets the entire conversation that led to this moment.

“We found recent activity near one of the old sweetheart gathering paths,” I explain.

Tom’s eyes narrow. “What kind of activity?”

“Unknown so far.”

Scarlet’s attention moves toward the museum entrance, and I follow her line of sight automatically.

The front doors stand open. An older omega paces near the reception desk, wringing her hands hard enough to bend the lace cuffs of her cardigan. From here, I can scent her fear. It’s the stench of realizing a situation can’t be managed back into order.

“What didn’t you tell us?” I ask.

Tom exhales once, through his nose. “Heritage Hall cameras went down before the theft.”

“How long before?”

“Forty-five minutes.”

Scarlet’s eyes cut toward him. “And you thought maybe I hacked the museum system between writing folklore books and spending too much time at the bakery?”

“You know enough about the display to bypass the sensors,” Tom says.

“That’s not an answer to what I asked.”

“No,” I say, cutting in before the argument finds its stride, “but it’s a reason to withhold information.”

Tom’s expression hardens. “This is my town.”

“And the GatorX investigation is ours. If evidence from your theft overlaps with it, we share what we have.”

The tension between us gathers fast. Roman steps into the gap before either of us decides volume is a communication strategy. His hand brushes the center of my back as he passes, a point of contact that reminds me I’m not handling the room alone.

“What Wes means,” he says pleasantly, “is that shared information tends to produce better results than competitive silence.”

Tom looks unconvinced, while Scarlet looks delighted. That delights me too, which I refuse to examine too closely.

The omega from the museum hurries toward the entrance before anyone can speak again. “Scarlet.” Her voice shakes.

Scarlet straightens. “What happened, Myrtle?”

The omega glances toward the square like she’s watching for additional bad news. “People keep calling the museum saying they think the festival should be canceled.”

That’s not good. Panic means the bond instability is going public, and once it goes public, the town stops being a background problem and starts becoming a variable we can’t control.

Concern crosses Scarlet’s face, followed by fear. Even though she’s been implicated, she doesn’t look afraid for herself. She looks afraid for the town.

“The stone protected bonds,” Myrtle says softly. “If people know it’s gone, and bonds are already failing during sweetheart season…”

“They need someone to blame,” Scarlet says.

Myrtle doesn’t deny it.

Roman shifts the equipment case to one hand. “Have there been more incidents since yesterday?”