The Davidge house was only about a mile from the remains of the LanCast building, and its proximity made Parker itch with impatience. She didn't want to be removed from the action, removed from Lancaster. She wanted to be there when his world came down around him.
She wanted him to suffer.
Our job is to help people, said the voice in her head.
"Then you help her," Parker said out loud. "She probably needs protection—we can't offer her that. You should have been here for this."
The voice was silent. Parker kicked at a rock on the sidewalk and sent it bouncing toward the house, wishing she could send it through a window instead, and made an effort to control her expression before she knocked on the door. She hadn't cried like the others, so at least her eyes weren't red, but her face felt stiff and cracked, and she couldn't summon a smile. She didn't want to try.
The door opened to reveal a stocky man with a bruise on his cheek. He glanced at her, then out into the yard, and moved to close the door. "Go away."
"Miguel!" a voice inside snapped. A tall woman with curly silver hair came up behind him and took his ear, pulling him back from the door. "You will not talk to visitors that way."
"You said to watch for trouble!" the man whined.
"Does this nice lady look like trouble?" the woman asked. She took his place in the doorway and leveled Parker with a fierce look that didn't seem nearly as welcoming as her words implied. "Now what can I help you with?"
"June Davidge?" Parker asked.
The fierce look deepened into a scowl. "Who wants to know?"
"I'm conducting a survey on behalf of the city," Parker said, falling back on the story Sophie had given her as they'd left the hotel. "We're looking into various historical sites that were previously owned by city founders. May I come in?"
June Davidge narrowed her eyes as she studied Parker's face. "You can come in if you tell me why you're really here."
Parker blinked. "I said I'm with—"
"I know what you said," June interrupted. "And I don't believe it. I been living here my whole life and never had the city show any interest in my property. The only one who has is Stephen Lancaster, and if you're here for him, then you can march yourself right on back and tell him I'm not interested. And if he wants to send any more of his thugs after me, I'll—"
"He sent thugs?" Parker said, frowning. "When?"
June crossed her arms. "What's your name?"
"Parker."
She waited for more—maybe a surname, maybe a deeper explanation—but Parker just stared back, holding her gaze in silence.
"You better come in," she said at last. "I got some soup on the stove, and I don't want it to boil over."
She turned and went inside, and for a moment, Parker thought about leaving. She didn't have time for this. They needed to find out what was happening with Lancaster, not waste time chasing down leads in some random woman's kitchen. If June wouldn't cooperate, then Parker could get the information another way. She didn't have to do this.
She needs help, said the voice. Who else is going to help her?
Parker clenched her fists at her sides, took a breath, and went in.
She noted the baseball bat beside the door with interest and approval as she followed June into a small kitchen, filled with the smells of cooking ingredients and the sound of gently simmering soup. The details hit her so hard that she stopped in the doorway, breathing heavily to keep the image of Eliot in his apron out of her mind.
"You all right, sugar?" June asked.
Parker blinked. "What? Yeah, I'm—Um, you said Lancaster sent men here?"
June waved at a little round table against the wall. "Sit down. I'll get you a bowl of soup."
"Oh, no, that's not—"
"Don't argue with me," June said. "I need to test the soup, and you look like you could use something warm."
Parker frowned, but took a seat where she could watch both June and the door. She caught the sound of footsteps in the hall and watched the man from earlier, Miguel, take up position beside the door again, scowling and rubbing his ear.
"The men who came by," Parker said. "What did they want?"
June ladled some soup into a bowl and set it before her. "Eat up first. We got plenty of time."
"Actually, I don't—"
But June handed her a spoon, and Eliot had told her that people took their cooking seriously, and if they shared it with someone else, it meant they were sharing a part of themselves. She wouldn't get answers if she insulted the woman's offer, so she dipped her spoon into the soup—cheesy potato—and put it in her mouth.
"Thank you," Parker said. "It's good." And because Sophie had taught her to be intentional with compliments, she added, "I like the cheese."
"It melted nicely, didn't it?" June said, smiling. "A new trick I just learned."
She sat in the other chair, still watching, so Parker took another bite.
"Now tell me about it," June said.
Parker propped her elbows on the table. "I'm looking into Stephen Lancaster, and I wondered—"
"No, no," June said. "Not that. Tell me about what's troubling you."
Parker frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Something's obviously on your mind." June lifted a mug to her lips, and Parker caught the smell of mint tea wafting from it. "You're hurting. It's not good to hold that pain inside you, and sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger. So go ahead and talk to me, and then I'll tell you what you want to know."
"I don't want to talk about it," Parker said.
"All right," June said. "I'm not gonna force you. Just eat."
Parker glared at her, but June got up and went to the stove, turning her back on Parker while she stirred the soup. She didn't speak, and after a few minutes of silence, Parker found herself eating again to keep her hands moving. The soup was fine—food was just food, unless it was Eliot's—but it did warm her. She hadn't been hungry before, not exactly, but the more she ate, the more comfortable she felt, and the more that fullness offset the empty ache in her chest.
"Here you go, sugar," June said, holding out a tissue. "Wipe your face. It's all right."
Parker started, taking the tissue reflexively and lifting it to her wet cheeks. She hadn't felt the tears start, but now that they were there, she didn't know how she was going to make them stop.
"He left," she said, clenching the tissue in her free hand.
June sat back down. "Bad breakup?"
"No," Parker said. "He died. But he shouldn't have, and it isn't fair. He wasn't supposed to leave."
"Oh, sugar," June said, folding her hands around her mug. "I'm so sorry."
The spoon clattered against the side of the bowl; Parker barely heard it. "I hear him in my head sometimes. The things he would say, things he would do. Does that mean I'm crazy?"
"I think it means you love him very much," June said.
Her vison blurred, and she set down her spoon to wipe her eyes.
"What does he say to you?" June asked.
"That you need help," Parker said, sniffing. "And that I should help you."
June smiled. "He's perceptive. I try not to let on, but this situation with Lancaster… it's got me a touch worried. This house is all I have. If I lose it, I'll lose the people I love, too."
"He wouldn't want that." Parker rubbed her eyes again, taking in a shaky breath. "I don't want that."
June held out a new tissue. "Then I'm glad you're here, Parker. What do you need to know?"
Parker made her way to the end of the sidewalk, turning to wave as June closed the door behind her. She'd been there over an hour, going through a box of old photographs and letters June had dug out of her basement that morning. "I was trying to figure out what Lancaster might want from this place," June had explained. "I didn't even know this was down here. My parents have been gone a few years now, but I haven't made the time to go through all their things yet. I guess now's as good a time as any."
Parker took out her phone, holding up the papers June had given her, and tried not to fidget as it rang. After the third ring, she almost ended the call to try again, but Nate's voice finally came over the speaker.
"Find anything out?"
"It's definitely Jesse James's treasure," Parker said. "I just finished up at June's, and she showed me a bunch of letters she'd found in her basement. Well, photocopies of letters. It looks like her parents found them a few years ago and donated them to a museum."
"What do they say?"
"They're love letters," Parker said, scanning the top paper. "From someone named Elizabeth Classen."
Nate's voice sharpened. "From the Classens Hardison found? The ones who owned the properties Lancaster is buying up?"
"Looks like it." Parker shuffled the papers and read over another one. "Elizabeth and Frank James were writing letters to each other, but they couldn't be together because of Elizabeth's family. Frank talked about wanting to take care of her and tried to get her to run away with him. He said he had money enough to give her the life she was used to, and said he'd tell her where he hid it if she'd meet him outside of town."
"Did she go?" Nate asked.
"No. In her last letter, she said she didn't want to disappoint her family. But then I think he gave her the money anyway, because she said something about how she had enough and didn't want to spend anything with blood on it."
"So Lancaster must have found the letters at the museum," Nate said. "And figured out that Elizabeth Classen hid the money on one of her parents' properties."
"And June's the only one left who hasn't sold," Parker said.
"Then, eventually, he's going to go after her to get her land."
Parker folded the papers and stuffed them into her pocket. "He already has. She said he sent some of his thugs around today, but her friends chased them off."
"It won't be long before he tries again." Nate paused, and Parker heard his footsteps through the speaker as he started walking. "Hang on, I'm going to add Hardison to the call. We need more information."
He dialed, and a heartbeat later Hardison answered, "Nate, hey, I was just about to call you."
"Parker's on, too," Nate said. "What have you found?"
"Okay, yeah. I was trying to dig into Lancaster's records, but they're all on a closed server. I need to get into his office to get any more."
"Sophie's already inside," Nate said. "How soon can you two be here?"
Hardison's laptop clicked closed in her ear. "On my way. Parker, I'll pick you up."
"Hardison, you get to the servers," Nate said. "Parker, see if you can find Lancaster's safe. We need to see if he's already found that money."
"What are you going to do?" Parker asked.
Nate's voice was low and cold, and it sent a shiver over her skin.
"I'm going to distract Lancaster."
Author's Note: I took some creative liberties with the historical information in this chapter. I haven't mentioned it in the story because I didn't want to be tied down to an actual location, but I kind of have this set in Oklahoma City. The bits about the Jesse James gang hiding their treasure is true, and so is the information about Frank James settling near Cement, Oklahoma, but the distances don't quite work out for Lancaster's business locations, so I kept it vague in-story. The Classens are a real founding family of Oklahoma City, which was settled in 1889. Frank James was in the area for a while before he moved back to his family farm in Missouri, where he died in 1915. Elizabeth Classen and her forbidden romance with Frank are invented for the purpose of this story, and if you don't look at the dates too hard, it almost kind of could be plausible.