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  “It was spontaneous,” I admit, looking around for Trade. “Can we have a quick chat?”

  “Of course,” she replies, brows drawing together as she looks me over. “Is everything okay?”

  I nod, and walk with her outside to my car. “So I have something to tell you. I have a new client, and she wants me to look into Ariel’s murder.”

  Bronte’s eyes widen in surprise. “The case is closed, though. And someone is behind bars for doing it.”

  “I know.” I wince, shifting on my feet. “But his mom is one hundred percent sure he didn’t do it and that he has been framed, and you know I told you they were family friends of mine.”

  She nods. “I remember you saying that. Shit, Nadia. This isn’t going to go over well.”

  “I know. But if the right man is locked up, then there’s nothing to lose, right? It’s just me double-checking the facts and the work the police have already done.”

  She looks unsure, and I feel the same way.

  “I don’t want anyone to know about this, but I couldn’t not tell you,” I explain, reaching out and touching her shoulder. “I need you to be okay with it, though.”

  “This would upset Trade,” she admits in a low tone. “He’s trying to move on.”

  “I know. He doesn’t have to know...unless I do find something, of course.”

  Bronte tilts her head and studies me. “She’s sure there’s something more to this whole thing?”

  “She’s his mother.” I shrug. “I don’t know if there’s any truth to her claim, but she swears he was with her that night, during that time. She seems sure he’s innocent.”

  “Mother’s love?”

  “Or the truth,” I say. “We won’t know unless I look into it. And no one has to know or get hurt in the process. I might find nothing.”

  Or I might find everything.

  She nods. “Yeah, all right. You do what you have to. I have no idea how this is going to play out, but I’m here if you need me.”

  And that right there is why this woman is my best friend. “I love you.”

  “You too.”

  Trade chooses that moment to pull up next to us in his black truck. He winds down his window and smiles when he sees the two of us. “Working hard, Bronte?”

  “Always,” she replies, clearing her throat.

  “Hey, Nadia, I haven’t seen you in a while. How’s it going?” He gets out of the truck, and not for the first time I’m reminded just how good looking he is. He’s tall, broad shouldered, built perfectly with muscles in all the right places, and has warm brown eyes. His brown hair is always tied back with a leather band, showing off his structured jawline and stubbled cheeks.

  “Good, good. Same old, just working.” I pause and glance at Bronte. “Anyway, I better head to work,” I say, waving to the two of them and getting in my car.

  “I’ll call you tonight,” Bronte yells out, and it sounds more like a warning than anything.

  “What are you getting yourself into, Nadia?” I ask myself, pulling out of their car park and heading to my own office.

  Marisol swears Damon was home with her the night Ariel went missing. I know that most mothers would lie for their children without thinking, and giving a false alibi for her kid wouldn’t be a stretch, but there was something in her eyes that made it hard for me to say no to her.

  That desperation.

  I can do this for her, as a favor.

  Maybe I’m just a sucker for a sob story.

  Either way, I’m doing this, and there’s no going back now.

  Chapter Two

  While chatting with Felix Banks, one of my police contacts and a longtime friend, he tells me that he is working away for a few months, so I should go into the station and speak to his partner, Decker. He told me if I ask nicely, there’s a chance Decker will answer my questions and walk through the evidence with me, so I go in and try my luck.

  “Good morning, Officer Shambles,” I say as I enter.

  He looks heavenward. “Nadia, you are the last person I want to see today. I don’t have time for you or any of your bullshit.”

  “Still as charming as I remember,” I reply with a grin, resting my arms on the desk. “Is Decker in?”

  Shambles nods. “Yeah he’s here. What do you want with him?”

  “You want me to annoy you, or him?” I ask, raising my brow.

  He picks up his phone and presses a few buttons. “Decker? Can you come out here?”

  I smile as he hangs up. “I thought as much.”

  I’ve known Seth Decker for a few years now, although most of the information I get about cases is from Felix. I actually went to high school with Felix, so we’ve known each other for some time. Decker I met when we all worked on a case together. It’s not unusual for us to call each other up asking for favors every now and again. Decker, just like Felix, is a force to be reckoned with, and one of those people you just know was born to be a cop. He lives and breathes his job, and is good at what he does, but is also compassionate.

  “Nadia,” he says, green eyes smiling as they land on me. “You’ve just turned a boring day into something much more interesting.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “Because I know you,” he fires back, leading me to his office and sitting down. “What do you need? Felix leaves and you come to me?”

  “Aw, Decker, are you jealous?”

  “Pfft. Me jealous of pretty boy Felix? No, but you normally go to him for your favors. If I didn’t know how much he loved his wife, I’d think there was something going on with you two.”

  I roll my eyes. Why can’t a man and a woman be friends without everyone thinking they’re sleeping together? “Well, I called Felix and he told me to come in and speak to you. Said if I asked nicely, you’d help.” I bat my eyelashes for good measure.

  “Lucky me.”

  “Yes. Basically, I have a client whose son has been convicted of murder, and she wants me to go over all of the evidence again,” I say. “And to do that, well, I kind of need the evidence.”

  He winces. “You know I’m not allowed to do that, right? I can’t just be handing out sealed evidence to anyone who wants it.”

  “Can’t or won’t? And I’m not just anyone.”

  His lip twitches. “Which case?”

  “Damon Richard—”

  “I know the case. That’s your client?” he asks, brows raising in surprise.

  “Yes. And I don’t need any comments from you. I just need to see the evidence, and I’ll be on my way.”

  He runs his hand through his dark hair and sighs. “All right, since he’s already been convicted and the case has been closed, I don’t see the harm in showing you the evidence. I can get you what you need. I just hope you aren’t wasting your time.”

  “You and me both,” I whisper as he leaves the room.

  I think back to the most recent case we all worked on together. It was a missing persons case, and that person happened to be a child. When you do that sort of work together, you have to trust each other. Besides, it’s pretty easy to trust Decker. The man couldn’t lie if his life depended on it.

  He comes back in about ten minutes later with a box in his hands and places it down on the table in front of me. “There’s a USB in there with the camera surveillance—you can watch it on my laptop. Everything else is all in here. Lieutenant Casey is milling around, so you’re on your own. If you see her, you need to leave. You know how she feels about you and your profession. Do not take anything with you,” he says as he points at me. I’d normally be offended, but this just shows he knows me better than I thought.

  “Thanks, Decker,” I say. “I owe you one.”

  “Yes, you do,” he replies with a smirk, and then leaves me alone.

  I take out my phone and photograph each piece
of evidence, knowing I do not have the time to go through everything right now. I want to examine every item, with hope to catch something—anything—that could have been missed.

  I pick up an evidence bag with what looks like a gold stud in it, maybe one that had fallen off a piece of clothing or something, and eye it closely before putting it down.

  The clothing Ariel was wearing that night brings tears to my eyes. There are washed out bloodstains on her ripped white T-shirt. The sight of it physically pains me. Why did this have to happen to her?

  I remember first meeting Ariel. She had smiled widely, and said it was nice to meet me. Then she proceeded to ask if I carried a gun when she found out I was a private investigator. We laughed as Mila, Ariel’s daughter, who was only a baby then, smiled at both of us.

  “She likes you,” Ariel said to me, sounding a little surprised by the fact. “She normally doesn’t like new people.”

  Not for the first time I question if I’m doing the right thing, bringing up this pain all over again. I remember when the verdict came in and Damon was found guilty. While it did not bring Ariel back, it gave everyone a sense of closure.

  But what if I find something? Right now I’m just looking and asking questions, but what if I dig deeper and the case is reopened, causing everyone to relive the pain all over again?

  Shit. Is this a good idea? I want to help Marisol, but what about my loyalty to Bronte and her extended family? They’ve taken me in and are good people—can I really willingly cause them harm? I should’ve thought this through a bit more.

  I take a deep breath and tell myself that I’ll just look at the evidence. As long as it supports the verdict, I’ll drop this.

  I plug the USB into Decker’s laptop, grateful he left it open, and watch the surveillance footage, which has two videos. The first one shows Ariel leaving the salon and bumping, quite literally, into Damon. It’s a fast exchange, maybe five to ten seconds, but it is clear as day. Damon and Ariel exchange a few words before she walks to her car. I make a note of the time stamp of the video and watch as she pauses at the car and checks her phone. It looks like she is sending a text message or something, and then she gets in and drives off.

  In the last frames of the video, it shows Damon’s gaze following Ariel. Watching her. I realize this is the evidence that sealed Damon’s fate.

  That’s all that there is.

  I wouldn’t have thought seeing this would affect me as much as it did, but watching her living and breathing for the last time brings a tear to my eye.

  I start the second video, which looks like footage from a gas station. I see a truck pull up and Damon hop out to get gas.

  Just as I’m about to record the time stamp, Decker’s superior officer, Lieutenant Casey, walks by the office and does a double take when she sees me. Shit, she really doesn’t like me. I close his laptop and pack up the box exactly how it was and leave it there. I need to leave before she says something to me.

  I send Decker a text on my way out, letting him know that I’m done, and get back into my car. Instead of returning to my office, I make one stop on the way.

  About thirty minutes away from the salon Ariel left, in the opposite direction of her house and everything she knew, is the small lake where her body was found. It was at first assumed that she had driven off the road into the water as an accident, but the autopsy showed otherwise.

  Ariel had died before she hit the water. The coroner reported that she was asphyxiated. She had other signs of trauma—a broken nose and hyoid bone, which is the bone under the chin that often gets broken during strangulation.

  This was no accident.

  Damon’s two-story property is the closest to the lake, sitting right on the bank, overlooking the crime scene, which is probably why he ended up being the number-one suspect. That and the interaction he had with Ariel—and his already-long criminal record.

  However, just because someone has been caught for drugs and burglary doesn’t necessarily mean they are capable of murder. But because of his record, they used burglary as his motive. The prosecution argued that he needed money for drugs and Ariel was the unlikely target. Damon got into drugs when his dad passed away. Before that he was a good student and an upstanding citizen. It’s crazy what grief and loss can do to someone.

  Even crazier what drugs can do.

  My eyes trail up to the lake and back to where Ariel’s car went into the lake. I don’t want to think about how scared she must have been. No one deserves this, no one.

  All I have is an alibi from Damon’s mother, something which clearly was not enough in court. I remember the promise I made to myself—I’d look over the evidence and if I found nothing, I’d be moving on from this.

  I check my watch and curse. My next client is set to arrive in about thirty minutes, so I head back to my office, switching mental gears.

  But I can’t let go of Ariel.

  * * *

  “So you’ve found nothing?” Bronte clarifies, dipping her cracker in a tub of hummus and putting it into her mouth.

  “Correct.”

  “I mean, it’s probably for the best,” she replies, chewing thoughtfully. “That’s all she hired you to do. He was found guilty for a reason. Maybe his mom just needs to accept that.”

  “I’m going to go to the prison and speak to him tomorrow,” I admit, sitting back on my couch and lifting my feet up on the coffee table. “I need to hear his account of what happened that night from him.”

  “Think you can tell if he’s lying or not?”

  “I don’t know.” I sigh, eyeing the platter in front of us. “I’ll try to read him or maybe pick up on his vibes, but you never know. I’m pretty good at reading people, but if he really did this, he’s a psychopath, so a little above my level. I know I can count on Decker’s help if I need him, too.”

  “Who’s Decker?” she asks.

  “He’s the cop who let me look at the evidence, I don’t know if you remember, but I’ve worked with him before. He’s Felix’s friend.”

  “Wait, who’s Felix again? I can’t keep track of all your contacts.”

  “You know Felix. My friend from high school who helped us with tips for our cases.”

  “Oh, is he cute?”

  I roll my eyes at my happily married friend. “He’s married. To an FBI agent.”

  Bronte frowns. “What about this Decker guy? Is he single?”

  “He’s not my type. He’s just a contact.”

  “I think I remember him being a hottie.”

  “Of course that you remember.” I roll my eyes again.

  “You know what? Just trust your gut—it usually leads you in the right direction,” she says. If only it were that simple. “I still can’t believe it all happened. We’ve all been helping Trade with the kids, and it’s so hard to be around them. I don’t know how to act because I’m heartbroken for them, but I don’t want them to see that.”

  “If he needs any extra help, or if you do, let me know,” I say, since my schedule is more flexible than most and I want to try to help whenever I can. I’ve buried my head in the sand with work over the past year, and now that things are a bit slower, I’m trying to start reconnecting to people I haven’t made time for.

  “He hates asking for help,” she explains, shaking her head. “We literally just show up there or organize it with Izzy. He’s stubborn as hell. Izzy has been taking Mila as much as she can. She offered to have her there full time, but Mila was asking for her dad and brother and sisters.” Trade is the only father Mila knows, so he and Izzy thought it was best for her if she stayed living with him and his children. I think it says a lot about a person, to take in a young child when you don’t have to. But Trade was insistent and Izzy knew it was the right thing for everyone.

  “Well, I’m here if you need me.”

  “I know.” She smiles, reaching
out her hand to me. “You’ve been such a big help when it comes to Quinn.” Quinn is Bronte and Crow’s three-year-old daughter, and I absolutely adore her. “I know how amazing you are with her, so I’ll remember that.”

  We chat for about an hour, and then Bronte heads home to her family. Feeling a little restless, I go for an evening jog and try to clear my head. When I get home, I’m exhausted. I take a shower and then jump in bed.

  Even though I’m so tired, I feel restless and still can’t sleep, and I find myself tossing and turning. I end up sitting at my desk, and start poring over the photographs of the evidence, thinking about the case for the rest of the night. I’m annoyed at myself for being unable to let this go, but maybe there’s a reason I can’t.

  Chapter Three

  Damon looks surprised when he sees me, his eyes widening. I offer him a small smile to break the ice, one that he doesn’t return.

  He appears worn down, bags under his eyes, and orange definitely isn’t his color. He sits down slowly, and picks up the phone, and I do the same.

  “What are you doing here, Nadia?” he asks, brow furrowing. His eyes suddenly widen in realization. “Mom...”

  “She’s fine.” I hold my hand up. “She asked me to look into your case.”

  “Why? I’ve been convicted, it’s over,” he says, his voice having more aggression than I would have expected.

  “Damon, I’ve known you your whole life...” I start to say, staring into his brown eyes. He may only be twenty-five, but his eyes show he has an old soul.

  He nods.

  “I need you to tell me the truth, Damon. And don’t fucking lie to me, or I will know. Did you do it?”

  He leans forward so he can look me in the eyes. “You need to back off, Nadia. It’s over, I’m in jail, and that’s it.”

  I’m surprised by his words. From the way Marisol spoke, I assumed Damon is desperate to get out of jail, claiming he was wrongfully convicted. “But your mom, she swears she was with you—”

  “Nadia, drop it,” he all but yells before looking at the guards as they give him a warning glance.