Kevin slid toward the edge of the booth for what he likely considered a subtler view—just sitting there on the aisle, one hand around his beer, nonchalant as could be.
“Kevin,” I warned, but his gaze didn’t budge. Struggling to be cool, I said, “Please, don’t catch his eye. I know him.”
“Know him.”
“Don’t want him seeing me.”
“Good luck with that, honey bun. If he’s the new owner—”
“He’s one of many—”
“But he’s in Devon.” The wonder was back, along with sincere curiosity. “He could have eaten at the Inn. Why do you think he’s here?”
I might have shared the curiosity, if I hadn’t been so rattled. I conjured up a quick CALM—Surround yourself with positive energy—and took a deep, hopeful breath.
“Maybe he just likes beer.” I knew he did. Edward wasn’t a big drinker, but he loved an interesting brew. One-on-Tap might have, in fact, been why he offered to visit Devon for his group. Sure, the pub was our best-kept secret. But Edward had always kept an eye on beer blogs, of which there were many more now than when we had been married.
Kevin kept staring.
“Maybe,” I added, scolding, “he just wants privacy,” and reached across for his arm. “I’m serious. Don’t stare at him. The last thing I want is for him to come say hello.”
“He thinks I’m hot. There’s a connection.”
I sighed. There was no avoiding the truth. Closing my hand on his slender wrist, I gave it a shake. “If there’s a connection on his part, it’s curiosity about who I’m with. Kevin, that man is my ex-husband.”
His eyes shot to mine—bam!—his ruddy cheeks seeming suddenly more ruddy in the dim pub light. It was a minute before he put it together. “Edward? Edward is the new owner?”
“Not him. A group he represents. That’s what he does.” He usually worked with start-ups, and The Devon Inn and Spa was far from that, but if rumor had it and another expansion was in the works, investors were needed. Edward specialized in gathering groups of those.
“Did he tell you that?”
“No. Jay did. Edward was leaving his office when Grace and I arrived.”
“What did he say to you?”
“Nothing. We didn’t talk.”
“You haven’t seen him in how long, and you didn’t talk? No words spoken?”
“Kevin. We weren’t alone.”
“Still.”
I sighed. “I don’t know how long he’ll be here, but the sooner he leaves, the better.” Kevin remained quiet, waiting for more, but what more could I say? “So he’s definitely straight, and he’s definitely temporary, and anyway, you prefer blonds. Ah.” Saved by the blond who was sliding off his glasses as he picked up a beer at the bar and strode toward their booth. “Jimmy. Thank goodness. Sit.” He slid in beside Kevin, took a great gulp of beer, and set the stein down with a thunk.
“Mmmmm. I needed that.”
He grinned. Kevin used his own napkin to wipe the foam from Jimmy’s lip.
It was a sweet gesture, but I was moving on. “What’s happening, Jimmy?” I was eager to shift the focus. Edward’s being here sucked the control out of my life. How better to get it back than by immersing myself in Grace’s problems?
“The closest Federal Court is in Rutland,” Jimmy said, court being a slurred co-ut in the way that marked Jim Pratt a Dorchester boy, “so the kid had his initial appearance there, but he’s gone home with his mom.”
Home was a relief. “What does ‘initial appearance’ mean?”
“Indictment is read, charges are filed.”
“Bail?” I asked.
“None. Not in this kind of juvenile hearing. The prosecutors duked it out earlier this week to determine jurisdiction. Feds won. Ergo Rutland.”
Kevin made a face. “Ergo?”
“The chief’s word, not mine. Do you want to know what happened or not?”
“I do,” I said. A naive little part of me had been hoping that the whole thing would be declared a misunderstanding, charges would be dropped, and the circus would end there and then. Apparently not.
“The hacking was traced to Chris’s laptop,” Jimmy said. “The evidence is strong.”
I was appalled. “How can that be?”
“Hacking isn’t hard if you know passwords. School computers are networked, and the kids here all have school accounts. They do homework online. They email the teacher, the teacher emails back. I’m sure they trade passwords. Hell, bunches of them probably use the same one, so slipping from account to account would be easy, especially for a kid who’s into it.”
“Which means it could have also been one of Chris’s classmates.”
“Could have, but prob’ly wasn’t. One of the others wouldn’t have been