Killian (Hope City #8) - Kris Michaels Page 0,34
never said I was wrong, I asked you to prove me wrong.”
The smirk that crept across his lips was satisfying “Which I did, in a big way. You were wrong.”
The laugh wasn’t what he’d expected, but the puffy, bottom-lipped, lopsided smile put a grin on his face, too. She dipped her spoon into her soup. “Well, I think you chose some pretty good words. They paint an excellent picture.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment coming from a journalist.”
“You should, but that greedy, money-grubbing princess you talked about? That’s not me. Or Caitlyn. I admit I love girly things. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Am I a diva? God, no. But I like getting my nails and hair done, facials, makeup, and pretty clothes, but remember, I grew up in a pack of eleven children. I wore hand-me-downs until high school. By that time, the older kids, with the exception of Blay, were out of the house. I adored the fact that my mom had time to clothes shop with me. Caitlyn and I had extra privileges because there wasn’t a horde of other children to feed and clothe. I have my own money now, and I enjoy looking nice, and I work hard at taking care of what I have so it lasts. I’m not a total princess. I’m the youngest of five and I am a bit spoiled, but my values are strong, and my upbringing was humble.”
Sitting in front of him sporting a shiner that would rival a losing welterweight boxer’s mug and eating chowder from a deli-bread bowl with a plastic spoon had proven she wasn’t a diva. A princess? Perhaps, but not the same type of women who’d hurt his brothers. “A bit spoiled I can handle.” He took a bite of his soup as the food truck honked its horn out front. “What have you found out about the ‘land grab,’ as you called it?”
She finished the soup she had on her spoon before she answered, “I went down to the county clerk’s office this morning.” She lifted her spoon and pointed at him. “These bruises really work to open doors, by the way. Well, that and the fact one of their own was partially to blame for them. Anyway, the ladies told me they did advertise all the land sales. They have receipts for the Hope City Journal. I saw them, they have a folder filled with them.” Bekki sighed and shook her head.
Killian sat his plastic spoon down and cocked his head. There was no way they were advertised. He’d have seen them because he religiously scanned the public notices. “I sense a but coming…”
“But… I asked if I could make some copies of the receipts and the wording for the articles. They let me. I went back through the HCJ, looking three weeks on either side of the ads that were supposed to be run. They weren’t run, at least not in the paper.” She stabbed a forkful of salad and ate it.
“What do you mean by that?”
Holding up a finger, she pulled out her phone and finished eating. “Here. If you go online and go to the Hope City Journal’s site, there is a section for public announcements.” She lifted her phone and tapped the screen. “See?” She flipped it toward him.
“I know it well. I scan that every day.”
“Well, go down to the bottom of the page, and here, where it says unsubscribe, contact us, and more information? Push more information.”
He took her phone and tapped the hyperlink. All the public announcements for the sales were listed. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No. I believe this is some kind of corruption. Legally, these notices were posted as required, but they were buried so only those who knew where to look could find them.” She dipped a piece of the bread cap into her chowder. “Now do you believe something is going on?”
He nodded and handed her back her phone. “Where are you with running down the people behind the purchases?”
“Hitting walls, unfortunately. My cousin is an uber-hacker, and if I need to, I’ll call in a favor, but I haven’t exhausted all of my resources yet. My mentor has connections. I’m calling him tomorrow. Plus, I’ve put the word out at City Hall that I am very interested in talking to anyone who may know of anything hinkey going on. I have a couple people who will do some snooping, sources who I’ve cultivated over the years. I’m not