"Mr. Lantz!"
"Hey, Johns. Sorry to bother you again. Just checking in about Cloud Peak—have you seen any suspicious people around like we talked about before?"
"My apologies, Mr. Lantz. Nothing unusual from security so far."
"But my boss is home today and would like to invite you inside for some tea."
Brandon blinked, caught off guard.
Oliver?
He stood there in the courtyard, briefcase in hand, thrown off for a second by the invitation. It took him a moment to find his words. "Thank you. I appreciate it."
The tea room on the first floor had this floor-to-ceiling window that doubled as a hidden glass door, sliding open without a sound. Johns led them around the garden and up to the window, gesturing for them to come inside.
Inside, a kettle was already heating up. Steam curled into the air and faded away. Early spring sunlight flooded through the windows, making all the teacups on the wall sparkle—there had to be at least a hundred, each one catching the light.
Maybe some of those cups only cost a few bucks, but in a place like Cloud Peak, who’d ever believe that?
This was billionaire territory.
Even the wood and stone carvings above the windows were works of art, so you knew the cups they handed you weren’t anything ordinary.
"Mr. Lantz, good to see you again."
"Mr. Padilla."
Oliver sat at the head of the table. He reached into the sterilizer under his seat and pulled out two cups, speaking with a relaxed, almost offhand tone. "Mr. Lantz, do you remember what day Mrs. Wilma disappeared from Cloud Peak?"
"Right after the holidays. January twentieth."
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