Come on, Rae, if you’ve ever done anything good in your life, you can do this. You can learn something that will make a difference.
One way or another.
Astor had agreed to meet her at a coffee kiosk, so she hurried through the terminal in search of one this side of security. Someone grabbed her arm and she whirled around.
The man released her arm. “You’re here for Mr. Astor.”
She nodded. “Yes. I’m Rae Burke.”
“Follow me.”
This was a safe place. Security everywhere. Cameras everywhere. She should be perfectly fine. She ignored the cell buzzing in her pocket. Liam would make his way here when he read her text. Honestly, she hoped that was soon.
The man led her down a sterile, empty hallway—away from others. “Where are we going? I thought I was supposed to meet him at a kiosk.”
“A conference room the airport makes available for meetings, privacy, whatever’s needed. For a price, of course.” He grinned, then opened a door to a room with a long table and comfortable-looking chairs. Windows served as a wall on the far side, allowing her to see outdoors. She pushed the panic down and entered the room.
At the end of the table, Astor, his cell to his ear, sat with his sidekick who was at the “party” last night. The guy must be a personal assistant of some sort. Rae hoped to get an introduction.
Enzo ended his call and looked at her.
She approached and offered a journalist’s smile—warm and friendly but serious—and a handshake. “Mr. Astor. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
After shaking hands with Enzo, Rae thrust her hand forward to the man sitting next to him. “Rae Burke.”
He glanced at Enzo. “Jack Anders.”
Rae dropped her hand and turned to Astor. “I appreciate you giving me even a few moments of your time.”
“I had hoped to have a more extended visit with you, but something’s come up.”
“We could postpone and meet later this week. Will you be back?”
Without answering, he gestured for her to take a seat. “I don’t have much time, so let’s get right to it. You had questions about my brother’s death.”
Rae set her cell phone on the table. “Yes. May I record our conversation?”
“I’d prefer that you didn’t.” He adjusted his round glasses. “I’m upset about some news I recently received. I can’t be sure that I won’t misspeak. You understand?”
“Oh, of course.” She cleared her throat, feeling ill-prepared for this interview and certainly not presenting herself like the experienced professional she was. So much was at stake. She pulled a paper and pen from her bag. “Then I’ll just take notes.”
He clasped his hands. “When you first approached me, you asked me . . . five years after my brother went missing, if the discovery of his remains would bring closure for me. No. I learned that my brother was murdered. So there can be no closure until his murderer is brought to justice.”
Rae scribbled notes and mentally prepared her next question, hoping the conversation would flow naturally. She put aside her questions about the timeline. “Do you have any idea who committed this murder?”
“Yes.”
At the resort, he claimed he didn’t know. She sat back. “Who do you suspect?”
Enzo leaned closer, his jaw working, the vibes coming from him suddenly terrifying.
“Ms. Burke.”
“Rae, please.”
“Do you think I’m so lacking in intelligence that I don’t know that you’re not currently working for any reputable journalistic newsgroup?”
“I’m freelancing.” Projecting confidence, she held his gaze.
His smile almost disarmed her as he leaned back. “You’re a journalist with a purpose. You wouldn’t be questioning me if you didn’t see me as a means to an end. So, what’s the endgame here?”
Her mouth dried up. She swallowed. Here it goes. “I’m looking for Zoey Dumont, also known as Tawny Davidson.”
She left off Zoey’s married name to sidestep Rae’s connection to her.
He smiled but failed to hide the sudden widening of his pupils. “I have no idea why you would think I know where she is. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t help you find her. I don’t know her.”
Her pulse inched even higher. He knows something.
She couldn’t let him leave. She had to go for the jugular, or at least any exposed place she could find. “Your brother did. He stalked her. Followed her all the way from Jackson Hole, Wyoming, to Denver, Colorado.”
He clasped his hands and leaned closer. “So, your purpose in meeting with me was to speak ill of