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The one that ruined my life.
And it was his fault. Pascal Gagnon was a slick suit who was too smart for his own good. And like all finance bros, he possessed the kind of unearned self-confidence that led others to make mistakes and overlook details.
“It was him,” I breathed out after a long silence. “He sent the wrong files and blew the whole investigation.”
Liv slung her arm around me and dropped her head on my shoulder. “Didn’t he get fired?”
“Yeah. And you know what happened to me.”
“Yup,” she said into my hair. “Scapegoated.”
“Not sure that’s a verb.”
“I’m a writer. I know these things.”
I hit her with the pillow. “Not just a writer. An amazon top one hundred author.”
She lifted one shoulder. “For a few hours.”
“It counts,” I insisted. “Maybe you’re not a millionaire yet, but L.T. Shipman is on the verge of blowing up. Especially with the new series.”
“The first book was your idea.”
“Nah.” I shook my head. “I only helped you with the murder details.”
Liv self-published suspense novels. She was crazy talented and had a very loyal following all over the world. Her fans loved the unique way she combined psychological thriller, horror, and romance. “The rest was all you and your dark, dark mind.”
She laughed. “I suppose you’re right. You’ll never meet another person as nuts as I am. Don’t forget your promise.”
With a grin, I nodded. If anything ever happened to Liv, I had been instructed to clear her search history, delete the contents of her Kindle, and dispose of her vibrators.
She sat up and crossed her legs, pinning me with a look. “Stop deflecting. What’s the deal?”
“He thinks his father was murdered,” I said.
The look on his face when he told me, the fear and the sadness, flashed through my mind. In that moment, he looked nothing like the guy I’d known a few years before.
He was older, wearier, with gray hairs peppering his temples. His patentedmy shit don’t stinksparkle had been snuffed out. He had been the type to buy rounds for everyone at the club. That alone had made him a valuable law enforcement asset. His dickwad clients loved to tell him their dirty secrets over drinks.
“Shit. Really?” Liv asked, clutching her shawl closed.
I nodded. “It’s intense. Trucking accident on a remote logging road. Police and safety inspectors ruled it an accident two years ago. But the family recently uncovered evidence that suggests tampering.”
I had always put stock in the work of my colleagues. Investigators usually did their jobs, and despite what most people thought, most of the work was pretty black and white. But as Paz had shared the details, the hairs on my arms stood up. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was right and there was way more to this story. So despite the black and white, I couldn’t ignore my gut.
“He and his siblings want to hire me to find the truth.”
She got up and paced from the door to the window and back again, pursing her lips as the wheels in her mind turned. “You should do it. You’re so talented.”
I sat up, hugging my pillow. “I don’t know.”
“As long as the pay is good, I say go for it. This is the kind of work you’ve been looking for. This is so much more than catching cheating husbands and running employee background checks. Get away from the network of cronies who have blacklisted you and make a name for yourself.”
Liv was rarely wrong. My father was a classic abusive narcissist. He had been furious when I left the state police, and he’d done what he could to make my life difficult. It had always been this way. Even when I was a kid, if I did what he wanted, if I made him look good, then he’d shower me with love, affection, and praise. If I didn’t do exactly as told, he’d manipulate, lie, and interfere until I was forced to do it his way.
After a lifetime of emotional abuse and several years of therapy, I’d learned to say no. I’d drawn boundaries, and I was standing on my own two feet. That meant leaving the force and going out on my own as a private investigator. It wouldn’t have been my first choice, but when I found myself miserable, fed up, and facing years of traffic duty after the case that shall not be named, it felt like the right choice.
Sadly, my father didn’t agree. He’d used his power, influence, and connections to make sure no decent client in New England wanted to hire me.
