Page 17 of No Offense

Really, she ought to have been working—there were several large piles of books on the trolley by her desk that needed reshelving.

But she was having trouble concentrating on work when there was such a big, juicy mystery to solve.

That’s what she told herself, anyway: that it was the mystery of the baby she’d found, and her mother—because that poor girl she’d found in the new libraryhadto be Baby Aphrodite’s mother—that was distracting her, and not the tall, blue-eyed sheriff, and the extremely frustrating way he had of not meeting her gaze... and then suddenly looking herstraightin the eye, and making her feel as if he could see directly into her soul and knew every single one of her secrets.

Except that Molly didn’t have any secrets! Finding Baby Aphrodite had been the most interesting thing that had ever happened to her. She’d never broken the law in her life, with the exception of having smoked a little weed in college. But everyone did that—and marijuana was legal in Colorado, as well as plenty of other places now.

Maybe the sheriff’s ability to make her feel this way was because he was a cop. Cops were supposed to be good at looking at you and making you blurt out your guilt.

But Molly had nothing to feel guilty about—except possibly how much time she spent on Facebook and Instagram spying on her ex and his new bride-to-be. But she’d really gotten much better at that lately. Now she only went onsocial media when she needed to. In fact, she decided that the best use of her time would be to go on Facebook right now and look for references to the Sunshine Kids.

But she could find none, save for a link on Meschelle Davies’s page that led to a story from an online newspaper that was hidden behind a paywall. Molly would gladly have paid to see what it said, but the paper was now defunct, and none of the links worked.

Molly quickly realized she had no choice but to email Meschelle atThe Gazetteand ask her for the information.

She was surprised when her phone buzzed a few seconds later. It was a number she didn’t recognize.

“I’ll tell you what you want to know,” Meschelle said when Molly picked up, “if you’ll give me an exclusive interview about what happened at the new library this morning.”

Molly smiled. She admired Meschelle’s go-getter spirit, even if she didn’t always approve of the mainstream media. It sensationalized violence and barraged children with hypersexualized images of young women (and men, too) just when they were beginning to develop and understand themselves as sexual beings.

“You know I can’t do that,” Molly said. “The sheriff asked me not to.”

“Well, then, I guess you’re never going to find out what you want to know.”

“How about this,” Molly said, glancing at her watch. “I’ll take you to lunch anywhere you want to go, and give youan exclusive interview about finding Baby Aphrodite, in exchange for you telling me what I want to know.”

“Hmmm.” Meschelle seemed to consider this. “People do love an abandoned-baby story, so long as the kid’s okay. Lunch today?”

“Today.”

“Anywhere I want to go?”

“Anywhere you want to go.”

“You got a deal. Meet me at Cracked in half an hour.”

Molly swallowed. Cracked was one of the trendiest—and most expensive—restaurants on the island. It featured oysters and stone crab claws (when in season); thus the high prices.

“See you there,” Molly said, and hung up.

It didn’t take her long to wrangle coverage for her desk. Phyllis was at yoga—she never missed a Thursday—but Henry promised to watch over the children’s section so long as Molly was back before two thirty, when school let out and the troublemakers—meaning Elijah Trujos—began showing up.

One of the many reasons Molly loved Little Bridge was that everything (except the airport) was within walking distance, and so she’d been able to sell her car. She biked or walked everywhere, and was looking forward to the day when this would result in a noticeable change to her fitness. So far, it hadn’t, possibly because she’d gone from living at a mile above sea level to three feet above it, so she was actually exerting herself less on Little Bridge, despite exercisingmore. She still arrived at Cracked breathless and sweaty, most likely because of her stupid cardigan.

“Hi,” she said, sliding into the posh leather booth in which Meschelle was already seated. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries.” Meschelle slid a wineglass filled with a golden beverage, its sides frosted with condensation, toward her. “I went ahead and ordered a bottle of sauvignon blanc. I assumed when you let me pick the restaurant that meant I also could order anything I wanted.”

“Fine.” Molly took a thirsty gulp. “Excellent choice.”

“Yeah, I know my way around a wine menu.” Meschelle played with the screen on her phone. “I already ordered a few appetizers for us as well. Is it okay if I record this?”

“Sure,” Molly said, widening her eyes as a server approached with an amply filled basket of flatbreads. “So who or what are the Sunshine Kids?”

“Whoa, slow down, sister. Me first. Why do you want to know so badly? Does it have anything to do with what happened today at the new library?”

Molly broke off a piece of one of the flatbreads. It was still warm from the oven and lightly covered in cheese and slivers of olive.Hmmmm. “I already said I can’t talk about what happened today. I promised the—”