Into Darkness

The Mystery Sells Itself

He settled in one of the chairs, his eyes on her as she took the one opposite, taking out her phone to dictate her notes, she kept her eyes away for the moment, something about this man was compelling. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought for a moment then quickly reprimanded herself mentally returning to the task at hand.

"So, Mr. Ravenhurst," She paused to think on her words, he could turn any moment and throw her out she had to make every moment count "Very little is known about you, seemingly you never leave this place?"

"Of course, I leave, I have business across the country, but I have come to learn, that people will only see what they wish," He replied.

"Hmmm..." His response caught her by surprise, it would be hard to miss those gates opening with the racket they made. Again, she felt her skip a beat, there was something both intriguing and frustrating at the same time, "You have lived here for a long time?"

"I was born in 1983, it was my father's home before that, as I'm certain you already know my great-grandfather purchased the property in 1902, it was in quite a state and he restored it himself," That would make him 40 she thought, he certainly didn't look it.

"You don't look forty," She blurted out before quickly looking down to hide the flush that shot up her neck and cheeks. Why the fuck did I say that she admonished herself, what the hell is going on?

"Thank you, Miss Reynolds," His utterance of her name sent a tremor through her, causing her to inwardly chide herself - stay focused, Sara.

"So... um what exactly is it you do Mr. Ravenhurst," Answer the obvious then dig beneath she told herself now.

"I am quite fortunate to have the family business passed down to me. Presently, I am involved in venture capitalism—a role I relish, helping others to flourish much as my forebears did. In addition to that, I came into ownership of several fishing trawlers via the hereditary acquisition of Wilton Fishing Co., a venture that was bundled with the land deed, and we have chosen to continue with that enterprise. The rest, I would say, comes down to judicious financial management."

She was almost stunned at such a portfolio; most had considered the Wilton Fishing Co. nothing more than a coincidence of the town's name as they were self-sustained and managed. She wondered how many people knew he was the actual owner. It also proved just how deeply rooted in the very foundation Alexander Ravenhurst was in Wilton-on-Sea's prosperity. They had for the last several years been voted as the most desired place to live.

Indeed, numerous families in Wilton had held roots in the town for generations. The town was steeped deeply in its history with an almost stubborn resistance to major commercial development. It primarily catered to the fishing industry, with its docks bearing continual bustle; larger commercial vessels would bypass it in favour of larger ports. This, however, did not diminish the consistent hum of activity here.

Though Wilton-on-Sea wasn't a prime tourist destination, it smartly capitalized on its strengths, relying on the modest footfall of tourists it attracted. The town's splendidly clean and restful beaches served as a draw, encouraging a touched tourism business that kept the local economy ticking.

The high street, in particular, was a beehive of activity during the tourist season. While it mutually benefited from and contributed to tourism, it was also a testament to the town's vibrant day-to-day life, capturing Wilton-on-Sea's essence and spirit.

"I didn't realise that you owned Wilton Fishing, there is no mention of you in their official documents," She replied.

"I leave them to their operations, but I assure you I keep my eyes upon their dealings, I am a legitimate businessman and will not tolerate abuse of my family name directly or indirectly," His tone now was slightly darker than she was accustomed, it almost appeared to be a veiled threat.