He flexed his fingers on the wheel.
“Dutch, talk to me.”
“I don’t know why he’s doing this.”
“Could it be anyone else?”
He shook his head. “I really don’t think so.”
I reached over the console around Mouse to lay my hand on his arm. All I could do was let him know I was there. The drive was quick.Nothing in Haven was all that far apart. I told him when to turn and finally Lance’s fixer upper came into view. It was a light blue ranch with a ton of backyard space. His dark red Mazda was already parked and the door was half open.
Mouse shot out of the truck and went to sniff around the property. “Think he’ll be okay?”
“He’ll stick close.” Dutch grabbed his laptop and met me at the top of the driveway.
I opened the front door. “Lance?”
“Basement,” he called.
I followed his voice down the hallway to the garage door which was opened. The access stairs to the full basement were tucked away in the garage. It was markedly cooler down there. The walls outfitted with all the toys and electronics a bachelor could want, but the corner of the room was his computer station. Lance was already at what could only be called a command center.
He had a wide curving screen that took up the entire desk, two keyboards, and a series of computer towers tucked away. He pushed a smaller rolling desk out. “Put your computer on there. Let’s light her up.”
Dutch hesitated.
“Okay. First off, I think you need to tell me everything. Are you into something?” Lance swung around in his high backed gaming chair.
I lightly circled Dutch’s wrist. “You can trust him.”
Lance pointed to the club chairs. I dragged two over from the octagonal table tricked out for some serious poker nights. I sat down and Dutch stood behind me, he couldn’t seem to settle.
“My best friend is—was—my agent.” He cracked his knuckles and paced the long space behind me between the entertainment area and my brother’s office. “We worked together since my first book was published. He got me my first contract. The whole bit.”
“Okay...” Lance hedged and sat back in his chair, his fingers twirling a fidget spinner.
“Christopher always did a first read on my books. Even after I started writing on spec.”
Lance glanced at me, then back to Dutch. “I’m assuming a different contract?”
“Yeah. I didn’t have to get my outlines or pre-write a book to continue to get contracts with my publisher.”
“And I’m assuming this Christopher gets a cut.”
Dutch stopped behind me, his fingers digging into the cushion of the chair. “Yes. This last contract was the largest one I’ve ever signed. He’s not fucking wanting for cash.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes. He’s got plenty of other authors.”
Lance narrowed his eyes. “How sure are you about that?”
I turned in my seat. “When’s the last time you talked to him?”
“It’s been over a year.”
I got up and went to him. “Have you told anyone what happened?”
When he looked down, I knew my answer. “Dutch, you have to talk to someone about this. It’s your whole career.”
