The moment the door closes behind Cole, I dash into my office and get on the computer, running a search on ValUBooks and McCord Media to find any information I can.
It takes a few minutes of frantic link clicking and article scanning before I finally find a clue. Buried in the depths of a story about the future of brick-and-mortar book stores in the digital age is a mention of ValUBooks being acquired four years ago by a company called Dolos Inc.
That name doesn’t ring a bell.
When I run a search of public corporate records, it reveals the corporation is no longer active. I try to find more information, but other than the corporate listing, I can’t find anything. No website, no press releases, no social media profiles.
It’s like they never existed at all.
I stare at the computer screen, my mind moving at the speed of light, until I realize Dolos must be a shell corporation. An entity created solely for the purpose of acquiring ValUBooks, keeping the name McCord out of the transaction and thereby the public domain.
A secret indeed.
Hands trembling, I pick up the desk phone and call Dani.
“Hello?”
“Dani, it’s me. I need you to do something for me.”
“Sure. You okay?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What’s wrong?”
“We’ll talk about it later. Just listen. I need you to call Ryan at work and ask him to get on the company computer and see if he can find anything about a corporation called Dolos.”
Without further questions or argument, she says, “You got it. Spell it for me, babe.”
I love this woman.
After I give her the spelling, she says, “Anything in particular he should be looking for?”
“I don’t know. Just whatever he can find. And call me back as soon as you hear anything. I’m at the shop.”
After we hang up, I sit and hyperventilate, sweating through my blouse and staring blankly at the wall as cognitive dissonance fucks my perception of reality right up the ass.
When the phone rings again, I jump, startled out of my wits. Snatching up the receiver, I say a breathless hello.
“Babe, it’s me.”
“Did he find anything?”
“No. There was nothing on the company computer about a Dolos Inc.”
I blow out a hard breath, feeling deflated. Until Dani says, “But there was on the county property assessor’s site,” and my heartbeat takes off like a rocket.
“Tell me.”
“So corporations have to file annual statements with the county if they own any property there, right? Ryan uses the site all the time for research in his assessments. Your Dolos Inc. owned a building in Venice—the address is right near you—but they sold it to some other corporation overseas about three-and-a-half years ago.”
“What’s the name of the other corporation?”
“Let me check. I wrote it down.”
I wait with my heart palpitating until she comes back on.
“I’m not sure if I’m pronouncing it right, but it’s called Sassenach. They’re based in Prague.”
My eyes widen. My lungs seize. My entire body goes cold.
Prague. It can’t be. This can’t be happening.
“Em? You still there?”
“I’ll call you back. Thank you, Dani.”
Carefully placing the receiver back in the cradle, I inhale a series of deep breaths until I can breathe again. Then I search the internet for a company named Sassenach in Prague.
Like Dolos, Sassenach doesn’t have any social media profiles. There isn’t a single press release, no corporate website, no digital footprint at all.
The only evidence it exists is a listing in the Czech business register for the limited liability company. A listing that reveals the company is owned by a man named James Fraser.
The same name of the hero in Outlander, my all-time favorite novel.
And sassenach, which means foreigner or outlander in Scottish Gaelic, is the nickname Jamie calls Claire, his time-traveling love in the book.
My heart pounding and my stomach in knots, I stare at the poster on the wall across from my desk at the actor Sam Heughan in his role as Jamie Fraser in the TV drama based on the novel. Then I turn my focus back to the computer for one final search.
This time I don’t include the word “corporation.” I type only Dolos and wait for the results.
According to Wikipedia, Dolos is the Greek god of trickery, treachery, and deceit.
A chill in my blood, I recall the way Callum looked at me the first day I met him when he walked into the store, so handsome and charismatic with his air of mystery and his dark, burning eyes.
Eyes that always seem so cloaked in secrets.
Shaking badly now, I open my desk drawer, remove the letter from David Montgomery informing me that my business tax account has a zero balance, and dial the number on the letterhead.
When it goes straight to voicemail, I pull up the CDTFA website and call the main number I find there. I spend five minutes fighting through a maze of prompts until finally I get a live human on the phone.
“I’d like to speak with David Montgomery, please.”
The woman on the other end of the line sounds as if she’s chewing gum. “Do you have an extension?”
“No. I only have his name.”
“I’ll look him up by last name. Give me a moment while I check the computer.” After a brief pause, she says, “We don’t have a David Montgomery here.”
Swallowing down the bile rising in the back of my throat, I say, “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Unless it’s a different spelling?”
She spells out Montgomery for me, but I already know there’s no employee listed with that name at the tax board.
He isn’t listed because he doesn’t exist.
I hang up and use the online white pages to search the 800 number listed on the letter I received, which reveals the number is owned by none other than Dolos Incorporated.
They must have paid a few years’ phone bills in advance before they went defunct.
Which indicates an extraordinary amount of pre-planning.
As I sit there frozen in shock, it’s as if my life flashes before my eyes. A series of memories form a kaleidoscope flying past at warp speed.
The grand opening of ValUBooks.
The landlord calling to double my rent.
The bank, credit union, and Small Business Administration all denying my applications for loans.
The dinner where Dani told me Ryan was laid off.
The tax fine.
The lawsuit.
The signed copy of Outlander.
The way Cole knew nothing about his brother having to marry to keep his inheritance.
The way Callum told no one in his family he’d wed.
The lunch where Callum smiled a beautiful, enigmatic smile and said, “Hello, little lamb. Welcome to the lion’s den.”
And finally, what Callum’s father said to him in the conversation I overheard in the kitchen: “Not everyone’s as mercenary as you.”
If this is what I think it is, mercenary doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface. Machiavellian is more like it.
I make one more phone call, my fingers trembling as I dial. When my landlord answers, I say, “Hi, Bill. This is Emery Eastwood. I have a question for you. When I told you on our last call that I recently came into a bunch of money, why didn’t you ask how?”
When that’s met with dead silence, I’ve got my answer.
The god of deceit, indeed.
Sitting back into my chair, I exhale, close my eyes, and gather my strength.
“Okay. Let’s talk about your deal with Callum McCord. How much of a bribe did he give you to make you double my rent?”
The line goes dead as he hangs up on me.
Son of a bitch.
I guess Callum didn’t instruct him how to answer.
