Page 91 of Fatal Fame
He typed back: "Good to hear. Speak soon."
Mia was already out of the car, stretching in the driveway and breathing in the crisp autumn air. Ethan emerged reluctantly from the back seat, fulfilling an obligation rather than embracing an opportunity.
"Everything okay?" Mia asked, noting her father's expression.
"Just work stuff. Nothing that can't wait." Noah pocketed his phone and looked up at his father's house, where warm light spilled from the windows and the promise of family dinner waited inside.
But even as they walked toward the front door, Noah couldn't shake the feeling that the Hale case still held secrets. The black truck, the missing glove, the systematic evidence tampering, all of it pointed to a conspiracy larger than one corrupt sergeant acting alone.
The investigation might be officially closed, but the truth was still out there, waiting to be discovered by someone brave enough to keep looking.
For now, though, there was family dinner and the complicated dynamics of three generations of Sutherlands trying to navigate love, disappointment, and the weight of a family name that carried both honor and burden in equal measure.
The front door opened before they could knock, revealing Hugh Sutherland's weathered face and the welcoming warmth of a grandfather who understood that some victories were worth celebrating, even when the war wasn't entirely won.
33
The Ashford Estate commanded the shoreline of High Peaks Lake like a monument to power and privilege, its sprawling waterfront facade stretching across manicured grounds that spoke of generations of accumulated wealth. Natalie Ashford's heels clicked against the marble floors of the grand foyer as she made her way through the familiar corridors of her childhood home, each step echoing in the cavernous space that had once felt magical and now seemed oppressive.
The double doors to Luther Ashford's study stood before her. She paused for a moment, gathering herself for the monthly ritual that had become both routine and dreaded—the reporting session that kept her father informed of everything happening in High Peaks, whether she wanted to share it or not.
The study was heavy with the odor of old books and polished wood, a masculine sanctuary that reflected Luther's taste for the finer things in life. The cathedral ceiling soared above her, while floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the lake that sparkled like diamonds in the late afternoon sun. The massive mahogany desk dominated the center of the room, its surface cleared except for a crystal decanter and two glasses thatcaught the light from the stone fireplace crackling in the far corner.
The walls showcased Luther's hunting prowess through an impressive collection of mounted animal heads—elk, deer, and even a massive bear that seemed to watch Natalie with glass eyes that held an unsettling intelligence. Interspersed among the trophies were small statues from the Roman Empire, adding an air of antiquity that spoke to Luther's fascination with power structures that had endured across millennia.
Luther Ashford sat behind his desk in a chair that might have been a throne, his hair perfectly styled and his expensive suit tailored to perfection. At sixty-three, he still carried the bearing of a man who expected the world to bend to his will, and his pale blue eyes held the calculating intelligence that had built the Ashford empire from timber and tourism into something that touched every aspect of life in the Adirondacks.
"Natalie," he said without looking up from the papers spread before him. "Sit."
She settled into the leather chair across from his desk, her own business attire impeccable but somehow diminished in his presence. Luther poured two fingers of bourbon into each glass, the expensive liquor catching the firelight as he slid one across the polished surface toward her.
"So, how are things going?" he asked, finally raising his eyes to study her face.
The question sounded like genuine interest, but Natalie had learned long ago to recognize the calculation behind her father's casual inquiries. She felt judged, evaluated, reduced to an equation that either balanced in his favor or required adjustment.
"The newspaper is running smoothly," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Circulation is steady, and we've receivedpositive feedback about our coverage of the Hale case resolution."
"And your relationship with Noah Sutherland?" Luther’s tone had a slight edge that made the question feel more like an interrogation. "Is he still asking questions?"
"Some."
"And what have you told him?"
"Only what you have permitted."
"Good." Luther nodded with satisfaction, taking a sip of his bourbon. "How we conduct ourselves is critical if we want to stay ahead."
Natalie had once argued with him about the ethics of spying on Noah, about the morality of using her position at the newspaper to gather intelligence for her father's purposes. But those arguments had ended badly, and she'd learned to hold her tongue rather than face the consequences of Luther's displeasure. The memory of her mother's fearful compliance haunted these monthly meetings, a reminder of what happened to women who challenged Luther Ashford too directly.
Her father had always demanded regular updates, monthly reports that kept him informed of local politics, law enforcement activities, and anything else that might affect his interests. He liked to know who was asking questions, who was getting too close to information that could prove problematic, and how to neutralize potential threats before they became actual problems.
"For the first time in a while, I want to acknowledge something," Luther said, his tone shifting slightly. "Your work hasn't gone unnoticed. Your position at the newspaper, your relationship with the Sutherland family, it's been valuable."
The praise felt more like a trap than a compliment, and Natalie waited for the other shoe to drop.
"But I would like you to get a little closer to Noah," Luther continued, his pale eyes never leaving her face. "More integrated into his world."
"I already got close to him through Mia, as you asked."
