Page 6 of Lost and Found

“Why me, Bailey? You have plenty of people to choose from. Plenty of people who actively work cold cases.”

“They would say yes for the wrong reasons.”

“Who cares why they’d agree to help you?”

“You’ve never cared about my last name,” she admitted.

Wes scoffed. “You sure about that? Your last name is the reason I lost everything.”

“If you want to rehash the reasons, my brother-in-law and Martin Edinbaugh are to blame.”

She wasn’t wrong, but Wes didn’t want to listen. He’d cast her as the villain, and the villain she’d remain. He could be as stubborn as she could.

“But blame or not,” she continued, “I said I was taking all the responsibility, and I am.”

Wes wanted to argue. She wasn’t giving him meat to fight over. That was almost as aggravating. He wanted to spar. “You and I both know Peter Phillips killed Natalie O’Malley.”

She lifted her left hand and pressed her right over her heart, as though swearing the truth. “No doubt. He absolutely did.”

Again, nothing to fight over. They agreed. Erick Cosgrove and Martin Edinbaugh were just as bad as Peter Phillips. They had used their influence to ensure Natalie’s cold case would never be solved and that Peter wouldn’t even get a slap on the wrist.

“The three of them are terrible people,” she said, “but they’re not me.”

“Guilty by association, Bailey. Guilty because you did exactly what they wanted you to.”

The dark circles under her eyes seemed to grow heavier. “Do you think I wanted to leave her story unfinished? Untold? I had to.”

“Had to?” He balked. “I was forced away. You, though? You moved on.”

“What was I supposed to do? My husband died.”

He caught himself. Ryan Cosgrove’s death had overlapped with Wes’s firing. He couldn’t imagine her heartache, and even when he’d been angry at the Cosgroves, he’d felt for her loss. “I’m sorry about that. Truly. I was sorry then, and I am still sorry now.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, remembering that, as furious as he’d been, Wes had donated to the environmental organization listed in Ryan’s obituary.

“Thank you,” she said, but her husband’s death didn’t soften her body language. “I saw what they did to you. I needed to stay busy. I had to keep working—”

“Give me a break. No one in your family needs to work.”

“You don’t know anything about what I need.”

“You’re a Cosgrove. I can extrapolate.”

“You especially don’t know what I needed after Ryan died.”

He lifted his hands. Fair enough. Point made. He shouldn’t judge the way she dealt with grief, and he really didn’t like the way he was softening to her point of view. Not that he needed to tell her that.

“Ryan and I were never like them. You know that—but you know what you don’t know? Everything else. Everything happening right now. God, Wes. Trust me, I didn’t want to be in a situation where I had to ask anyone for help, but despite our history, you’re the person I trust. You’re the person who’s professional enough to ignore what happened.” She tossed out her hands as if gesturing to their past.

She held him in too high regard. “I don’t know about that.”

“Bad things have been happening, trying to scare me off this cold case. Maybe I learned my lesson after Erick and his friends scared me off last time, or maybe I’m an idiot who is too close, too invested, to move on. But my hand was pushed, and I can’t think of anyone else who I want to do this with. Please don’t make me beg. Just listen to what I have to say.”

He studied her, really looking beyond the pretty woman who made his dick twitch. She hadn’t been sleeping well. The sunny dress brightened her up, but it didn’t hide her exhaustion or worry. Something weighed heavily, and he wasn’t a complete asshole. Not to mention, his boss was sure Wes would say yes. “I’ll listen.”

She gestured to the conference table with the mismatched chairs. Wes let out a deep breath and sat next to her. Bailey pressed her hands on the spiral notebook. Her eyelids sank shut, as though she’d found the energy for their conversation in the paper and ink beneath her palms.

“I’ve had security issues sometimes,” she finally said. “The typical headaches.”

He nodded. Nature of the beast. She investigated cold cases, hunted down suspects, and turned them over to law enforcement for prosecution, all while documenting her process into a story for her listeners. Bailey’s enemies list wasn’t short.