CHAPTER 24
Chapter Title: A Feast with Lions
Kathy
A waiter glided past with a tray of champagne flutes, bubbles glinting like tiny sparks. I grabbed one without thinking, the glass cold against my fingers. One sip—sharp, dry, a fizz that bit my tongue—just enough liquid courage to steel myself.
I sat down, under the glow of the chandelier, feeling like a fox in a den of lions.
"Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Williamson," I said, my voice steady despite her cool, predatory gaze, the way she measured me like a stray dragged in from the rain-soaked streets. "Finding an outfit for the occasion was a challenge. Government paychecks don’t exactly stretch to silk gowns—but I’m sure your husband, Senator Williamson, understands the struggle."
Her diamond bracelet winked under the chandelier as she lifted her glass with deliberate grace. "Of course," Divine said smoothly, her smile refined, practiced. "Not everyone needs silk to make an impression. Some women wear simplicity… as though it were their only option."
The words should have stung, but they slid right off me, like rain on glass.
"And some wear silk like it screams snob," I shot back. "Not that it bothers you, Mrs. Williamson. Something tells me you revel in the title."
The words slipped out sharper than intended, and for a heartbeat, the room seemed to tilt, the risk crackling in the air. I should’ve softened the blow, but there was a thrill in watching the queen bee flinch, if only for a second.
Ace snorted from my left, shoulders twitching as he stifled a laugh. Divine’s eyes snapped to him—sharp, silencing, the kind of look that could hush a boardroom.
When she looked back at me, her smile was thin, honed to a blade’s edge. "I see the family resemblance," she said finally. "You and Kimberly share that… charming bluntness. Tactless, one might say."
"In my line of work, Mrs. Williamson, mincing words is a luxury I can’t afford," I replied, leaning forward with deliberate audacity, my elbows claiming the pristine linen like a battle line. "Especially when my sister’s vanished into thin air."
"How odd that Kimberly never mentioned you," Divine said, tilting her head like a hawk eyeing prey. Her tone was light, but her eyes were daggers. "Nor did I see your name on the guest list. Tell me, Agent Hastings—" she let the title linger like venom, "—what did you do to make Kimberly exclude you from her wedding? Or… did she push you away?"
Her words landed like a pebble dropped in still water—ripples spreading into silence.
Before I could counter, Hank intervened, his voice tight with desperation. "Mother, please, don’t speak of my fiancée that way," he said, his hand landing awkwardly on her shoulder, a diplomat grasping at peace. He looked every inch the polished son struggling to maintain decorum. "And this isn’t the place for arguments. Guests are starting to whisper."
"Oh, we aren’t arguing, Hank," I said, turning my voice sugar-sweet. "This is what you call witty banter where I come from."
I flashed Divine my most disarming smile. For the first time since we’d met, she smiled back—though it was the kind of smile that belonged to a chess player three moves from checkmate.
"To answer your question," I continued, "I stayed away for Kimberly’s protection. She never mentioned me because I specifically told her not to. Unfortunately, now she’s gone. So here I am—ready to find her and bring her home."
Divine’s gaze lingered on me for a beat, weighing, probing. Then she gave a curt nod. "Sorry we had to meet under such grave circumstances," she said. "Despite what people think—Kimberly included—I like her. And I’d like to offer you my help. But first…" She gestured toward a larger table, already set with appetizers like a magazine spread. "Let’s dine. Shall we?"
The table was a banquet disguised as supper: shrimp cocktail in frosted glasses, mussels baked with garlic and cheese, mushrooms stuffed and crowned with herbs. A chilled white wine sat beside each plate, condensation dripping like slow rain.
Divine clearly believed no conversation was complete without five courses. Sherry-laced chowder, caprese salad with bursting tomatoes, lobster tail split down the center, and a silky crème brûlée. Each course arrived with its own wine, poured with precision—never quite generous.
We ate in near silence. Divine’s posture was a study in control—back never touching the chair, wrists poised, every motion like a choreographed dance. Not a drop of chowder touched her bowl's rim. Watching her was like observing a maestro at work.
Ace, by contrast, slouched comfortably, fork in one hand, glass in the other—posture as loose as a barfly at midnight.
"First time I’ve ever seen Hank stick up for Kimberly," Ace murmured, leaning close, his voice brushing my ear like static.
"Really?" I whispered back, surprised.
"Yeah. Usually he just folds. Like a lawn chair." His grin flashed, boyish, nearly coaxing a laugh from me.
But Divine’s gaze flicked toward us—icy, assessing—and I dropped my eyes to the lamb chops, suddenly engrossed in cutting them into perfect cubes.
After coffee and port, Hank excused himself, leaving Divine across from me like a general poised for battle. She set her cup down with a deliberate clink and folded her hands.
"Agent Hastings," she began, her voice slipping back into that courtroom cadence, "as I said, I would like to offer my help. I believe Kimberly’s disappearance may be an act against our family. My husband’s senatorial seat attracts admiration… and malice, as you’re well aware."
"Sure," I said, leaning back, feigning ease. "What assistance can you offer me? Files, security footage, maybe a list of enemies? A family like yours must collect them by the dozen."
Her lips curved slightly. "I would like Ace to work with you. You seem to… get along."
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. Ace? Seriously? "Ace may be the best at providing security for your family, Mrs. Williamson, but I work—"
"Alone?" she finished smoothly. "Ace is former special forces. He knows Crisfield, knows its people, better than any badge. Tell her, Ace."
Ace’s expression sobered. "I tracked the SUV used in Kimberly’s abduction," he said. "Junked at a scrapyard just outside town. We dusted it for prints. One set matched Kimberly. Two others—unknown."
"Hand them over," I said. "I’ll run them through our database. What about fibers, hair, fluids? Did you sweep with luminol?"
"We did. No blood, no fluids, nothing obvious."
I drummed my fingers on the table, thinking. "I need to see that car. Have it towed to a secure location. My team will dismantle it piece by piece."
"Done," Ace said. "We can leave around three a.m."
"Anything else you’ve neglected to mention?" I asked.
He shook his head.
Divine’s gaze pinned me. "If you allow Ace to work with you," she said, "I will fund the entire operation. Any expense. No questions asked."
She drew a check from her clutch with effortless grace and slid it across the table toward me. One glance at the figure was enough to make me let out a low whistle.
It was an offer dressed in silk but sharp as wire. Too generous. And generosity this big came with chains. Divine Williamson didn’t spend a dime without expecting someone to dance to her tune.
I met her eyes. "That’s generous. Almost too generous."
Her smile didn’t falter, but something flickered behind her eyes—triumph? amusement? "I don’t believe in half measures, Agent Hastings. So—" She spread her hands, diamonds catching the light like tiny knives. "Will you accept?"
The air thickened, a quiet standoff dressed as civility. Accepting meant resources. Refusing meant going it alone. She’d cornered me in her game.
"Fine," I said, my voice sharp and unyielding. "Ace and I will work together. But let’s be clear—this is my investigation. I’ll take your money, Mrs. Williamson, but I won’t be bought. And if I find you’ve withheld anything, our next conversation won’t be over dinner."
I smiled—polite, but edged with steel.
Divine’s answering smile told me she’d heard the warning… and dismissed it.
From the corner of my eye, Ace watched me over the rim of his cup. His expression unreadable, but at the corner of his mouth, the faintest twitch. A smirk. Or maybe just a tell.
And just like that, the deal was struck—not in warmth or alliance, but in the recognition of two predators circling the same prey... while Ace lingered somewhere in the shadows between us.