Page 23 of Rhythm Of Redemption

Weighing his words, she acknowledged his lack of options. Taking a momentary pause, she mentally reviewed her diary. A large family group who’d booked two of the bungalows was due to arrive the day after tomorrow from France, while Mary and Reg still had another ten days left of their stay. With the other two bungalows unfit for habitation, the only real option left was for Logan to stay in the one she had earmarked for her VIP guest, Serena Rice. Although it would mean extra work on her part, it didn’t pose a major problem per se, as she wasn’t expected to arrive for another couple of weeks, and hopefully by then everything would be cleared up, and Logan would be long gone. “Fine,” she conceded, her response laced with reluctance. “But I don’t want the place swarming with police officers or journalists, okay? I can’t expose Dani to this kind of shit or put my business at risk with scandal.”

“Absolutely, I understand completely. Thank you.” He lightly touched her arm, letting out a sigh of relief. “I just need to have a quick conversation with Detective Russell over there about getting some new clothes,” he nodded towards the police detective. “And I’ll be right back.”

Her eyes swept across the pristine white interior, and the stark contrast to her own home was impossible to ignore. Minimalistic furnishings, with their cold and rigid design, lacked the comforting embrace of her own threadbare couch. It was the last place she’d imagine herself wanting to chill out with her favourite chocolate bar at the end of a long, hard day. Devoid of any personal touches, cherished mementos, or colour; the space resembled a hollowed-out shell of emptiness and solitude. This wasn’t a home; it was an ode to success.

Slipping out through the patio doors onto the sun-drenched back terrace, she let out a relieved sigh. A gentle salty sea breeze caressed her skin, accompanied by the melodic calls of gulls soaring above. The azure waves extended infinitely, their rhythmic undulations intertwining to form a captivating symphony of nature’s harmonies. Each crest shimmered like glistening diamonds, casting an ethereal luminosity across the seascape. She cast her gaze downward. The beach below transformed into a captivating mosaic of golden sand. The grains, like tiny fragments of sunlight, intermingled and merged, creating a tapestry that shimmered and sparkled in the sun’s tender glow. Inhaling deeply, she embraced the moment, immersing herself entirely in this sanctuary of the senses.

Alerted to someone else’s presence, she remarked, “This view is amazing. You’re so lucky to wake up to this every morning,” her voice filled with longing. Turning to face him, she was surprised to find Mike Russell, seemingly enjoying the view. “Sorry, I thought you were Logan.”

“No, just me. But you’re right about that view though,” he responded, inhaling the ocean breeze. “It’s incredible.” They stood side by side, immersed in the beauty of their surroundings. Tilting her face towards the sun, she closed her eyes, revelling in its comforting warmth. “Oh, and I need you to answer a few questions about your relationship with Mr Meyer.”

“Who?”

Retrieving his notebook, he flipped through its pages and consulted his notes. “Logan Meyer, also known as Bogey.”

“I wouldn’t call it a relationship,” she replied, conveniently leaving out the fact that she had just slept with him—after all, it was none of his business. This was an incredibly awkward situation. Did she really want to share with this high-ranking police officer how her fifteen-year-old daughter had somehow sneaked into Logan’s nightclub, only to end up in the hospital after collapsing? Perhaps not. She didn’t owe Logan any loyalty, but she also didn’t want to complicate things for him, either. “Honestly, I barely know him.”

With a quick glance at his watch, he arched an inquisitive brown. “Do you often give lifts to strangers at this time of the morning?”

“I never said we were strangers.” She frowned quizzically.

“So, you’re friends then?”

“I wouldn’t say we were friends, either.” Why was he twisting her words like this?

“Well, which is it?” He speared her with a probing look. “Look, Ms …”

“Adams. Louisa Adams,” she replied.

He threw a quick glance at her left hand. “Is that Miss or Mrs?”

“Mrs.” She stuffed her hand into her pocket. “But I’m divorced.” Why was she even telling him this? It was none of his business.

“Okay, Louisa, let’s start again. How well do you know Mr Meyer?”

“I’d say we’re probably acquaintances, rather than friends.”

“Friends, acquaintances.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Potato, potahto.”

“What exactly are you implying here, Mr Russell?”

“It’s Detective, and I’m not implying anything,” he replied with a disingenuous smile. “I’m just trying to establish the facts, that’s all.”

“Well, obviously I’m not part of some elaborate multimillion-dollar money laundering operation,” she stated, gesturing towards her clothes. “Am I?”

The detective shrugged indifferently. “It could be a facade, designed to mislead us.”

“Are you kidding me?” She glared at him with defiance, placing her hands on her hips. “I’d show you the receipts, but they’re so old that the ink has most likely faded. And what about my car, huh? Do you really think I’d be driving around in that old jalopy if I could afford something better?”

“I don’t know you well enough to comment. But rest assured that if you’re hiding something or have any connection to this, I will find out.”

Logan dropped the small bag he was carrying and marched towards them. “Hey,” he ordered. “Lay off her. She’s not involved in any of this.”

“Ah, so you admit that something is going on, then?”

“What? No. For crying out loud.” He ran his fingers through his hair, clutching it tightly at the back of his neck. “I don’t know what you think I’m caught up in, but you’re making a huge mistake.”

The detective snickered. “Yeah, yeah, it’s all just a setup, right?”

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