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“I think you should go. Head up to wherever the fuck it is. Canada?”
I laughed. A quick google search had revealed that Lovewell Maine was a tiny logging town situated hours from anything, smack dab in an enormous state. “No, but close.”
She tapped her chin. “Okay, head up to the great north, where people fuck moose for fun and subsist solely on potatoes and expired Moxie. Go up there; have an adventure.” She was dancing around now, clearly inspired by my disastrous day. With my luck, a loose version of this situation would appear in her next book. “You’ll solve the mystery. Because you’re freaking brilliant. You’ll uncover what the cops missed.” She shuffled to the bed, tilted forward, and cupped my face. “And then you’ll come home a hero, with experience and confidence and a plan.”
“When you put it like that,” I said, rolling my eyes.
She bopped me on the nose. “Parker Harding, we both know you’re bored out of your skull. This is the challenge you need. It’ll get you out of this room and back into the world of the living.”
As always, her enthusiasm was infectious. The more she talked, the more I wanted to do this. To work this case, unearth all the small-town secrets, and help this family get the closure they needed. Bringing bad guys to justice would be a nice perk too.
“Plus, you can have a hot fling with a lumberjack.”
“I seriously doubt that. If I want to repair my reputation and get the experience I need to prove to the people here that I can and will help, then I need to stay focused. And let’s face it, in a tiny logging town, the pickings will be more than slim.”
She reached out, and when I put my hand in hers, she pulled me up off the bed. “You’re definitely not getting laid with that kind of attitude. Now come downstairs so I can feed you before you head out on your super boring stakeout.”
* * *
I slumped in the front seat of my car, rolling my shoulders, in search of relief. I had been here for three hours, and so far, nothing.
Stakeouts were the worst. Movies and TV made them look glamorous, but sitting in my car until my legs went numb, hoping for a sliver of evidence, was pure misery.
My phone dinged from the cupholder. Without taking my eye off the house I was watching, I snagged it and held it out in front of me.
Paz. Ugh, I should have known he would be persistent. His brand of alpha asshole wasn’t used to hearing the word no.
You’re thinking about the case, aren’t you?
He wasn’t wrong. It had only been about twelve hours since he showed up in my office, but I’d already mentally planned out the information-gathering stage of my investigation. Records, maps, financial filings. Starting with the paperwork would give me a feel for things.
I think you’d really like Lovewell.
A photo came through. Naturally, it was an image of a massive moose.
This is Clive. He’s one of many moose up here. He may seem out of your league, but I promise, you could enjoy a vibrant social life up here.
I laughed, despite myself. Maybe the soulless corporate bastard did have a sense of humor.
Keeping the window of the luxury townhouse in my periphery, I responded quickly.
I’m going to need you to walk me through all the evidence. I don’t have months to waste on half-baked theories.
I brought my phone to my lap and focused on the task at hand again. But naturally, another chime sounded almost immediately.
Done. Dinner. Tomorrow night at Fore Street. 7 pm.
Was he high? There was no way I’d meet him at a fancy, romantic restaurant like that. How could we talk about evidence and records and truck brakes over candlelight and vintage wine? Nope. For a guy like him, reservations at Fore Street were probably like going to Chipotle for the rest of us, but no thank you.
No. Meet me at my office at 4. Bring everything you have. I’ll look it over and think about it.
Sorry. I’m the client. Your office is depressing, and the mussels at Fore Street are life changing.
I’m not meeting you at one of the fanciest restaurants in town.
My treat. I live in the boonies now. Can’t pass up an opportunity for fine dining.
I hated to break it to him, but that wasn’t how I did business. What should be a quick informational meeting under the flickering fluorescent lights of my dingy office would, if he got his way, become a meal that lasted half the night. And I’d have to share it with a man who infuriated me to no end.
