Page 63 of Something’s Brewing

Madison wondered if the festival committee or the Reids had anything to do with the favors she’d been receiving.

He lowered his voice, though they were the only ones in the room. “I received a call the next day, offering me the permit if I donated to a town development fund.”

“I’m not aware of a development fund.” This was what she’d uncovered, a string she knew needed pulling.

“I wasn’t either. But I got the impression I shouldn’t ask any questions if I wanted my permit approved.”

“What did you do?” she asked. “Did you recognize the number?”

“I hung up, then marched over to City Hall and pulled the permit. The number was unlisted.”

The buzzer sounded and two men walked in the door.

They were out of time.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” Madison said. “Thanks for your time.”

“Let me know what you find?”

“You bet.”

Now she needed to follow the money.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Madison’s phone pinged with a number she didn’t recognize.

I have proof you need. Can you meet?

Her pulse kicked up.

Finally.

Her thumbs flew over the screen.

When? Where?

Thirty minutes.

An address followed with a warning to come alone.

She stared at the message for a long second. This was either the break she’d been waiting for or a terrible idea. Probably both. She texted back.

I’ll be there.

She grabbed her keys. On her way out the door, she hesitated, debating whether to tell Garrett. He’d had a long day at the brewery. She could still picture the exhaustion in his eyes when he’d fallen asleep on the patio earlier. She didn’t want to drag him into her late-night errand. Besides, she’d done things like this before. She’d tracked leads, met sources, and followed her instincts. Only before, she’d had backup and a weapon. She pushed the thought away and climbed into her SUV. The thrill of the chase invigorated her. It always had.

The navigation voice guided her out of town and onto unfamiliar back roads. A storm brewed on the horizon. The sky ahead churned with rolling gray clouds, thick and restless. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. I’ve got time before the storm hits.

The paved road gave way to gravel. The road twisted. The deep ditches scarred the roadside. No houses, no lights, and no vehicles in sight. Her stomach tightened.

The navigation chimed. “In two-tenths of a mile, turn right.” Madison slowed, scanning for a driveway marker. That was when it happened. A violent jolt slammed her forward. Metal screamed and her head snapped back against the headrest.

“What the⁠—?”

She glanced into the rearview mirror. A big black truck hit her again. Harder. Her tires skidded on the loose gravel as she fought the wheel.

She eased off the accelerator, searching for a place to regain control without giving the truck another opening. Nothing but narrow shoulders and thick woods stretched ahead.