Dead Set

by Melissa Pearl

  She eyed him critically. “You’re a private investigator, right?”

  He nodded.

  Her gaze drifted across the small office, and he watched as the frown on her face deepened. “Is this your office?”

  He nodded again.

  “Did you just move in or something?”

  He coughed. “Not quite.” He glanced at the folder in her hands. It wasn’t thick—there was probably only a page or two inside—and he wondered if the woman standing in front of him was answering the ad he’d placed. Maybe she’d decided to come by in person to drop off her résumé. Make a good first impression and all that.

  “Are you here for the job?” he asked hopefully.

  The woman stared at him. She really was beautiful—not just the blonde hair and blue eyes, but the whole package.

  “Job?” she repeated. She was still standing in the doorway, still surveying the office as if it were a science experiment that had gone awry.

  Lucas’s gaze shifted to the overflowing trash can and the pile of empty takeout containers stacked on the bookcase next to it.

  There were probably things growing in that pile of trash that would make for a good science experiment.

  “The job listing,” Lucas said. “For an office assistant.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m here for a job?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  A muscle in her jaw pulsed. “You think because I’m a woman walking into your office I’m here to apply for a job? As your…your office assistant?” Her eyes swept the room again. “Looks like you need a custodian more than an office assistant.”

  Her disapproving tone was clear, and he felt like an ass for making her think he’d made a sexist assumption about her.

  “Sorry,” he said, holding his hands up. “I put an ad online for office help the other day and just assumed you were here for the job. My apologies.”

  She looked at him coolly and said nothing, her lips holding their thin, tight line. If she was trying to make him squirm, she was doing a good job of it.

  Lucas shoved his hands in his pockets. “So, if you aren’t here for the job, what are you here for?”

  For the first time, her demeanor shifted. For one brief second, the confidence and aloofness were gone. Something flashed in those blue eyes of hers, a tidal wave of sadness that slammed into Lucas. And just as quickly, it was gone.

  She marched toward him, her snow boots silent on the thin, industrial-grade carpet. She thrust the folder she was holding into Lucas’s chest.

  “I’m here to hire you.”

  He lifted his hand to take the file, his fingers grazing her gloved hand as he did so. “Hire me? For what?”

  She was even more beautiful up close. Porcelain skin, long thick lashes, lush pink lips that didn’t have an ounce of gloss or lipstick on them.

  And those eyes. Those blue eyes were like ice—cold and dangerous, yet completely alluring. An involuntary shiver ran through Lucas, but he didn’t look away. He couldn’t have even if he’d wanted to.

  “I need you to find out who killed my brother.”

  3

  Monday, March 19th

  9:00am

  “Have a seat.”

  Lucas grabbed the stack of files and papers sitting on a chair and set them on the floor, where they promptly tumbled over.

  Alaina watched him, wavering between irritation and amusement.

  The office she was standing in was a wreck. A monumental, colossal wreck. Papers everywhere, boxes stacked like building blocks—Alaina hadn’t been kidding when she asked if he’d just moved in.

  Her gaze drifted to the man who was standing next to the now-empty chair, waiting for her to take a seat.

  Lucas McGowan looked a little rough around the edges, too. His brown hair was on the longish side, with a slight wave to it. The ends curled around his ears, and it looked as though he had a permanent cowlick in the front. A couple days’ worth of stubble lined his cheeks and chin, the darkness there mirrored in his brown eyes. A crescent-shaped scar arched over his right eyebrow. He wasn’t tall, maybe 5’10, but considering Alaina was as tiny as an Olympic gymnast, he practically towered over her.

  “You gonna sit?” he asked.

  “I’ll stand.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  He walked behind his desk and sat, sweeping aside more papers so he could set down the folder she had given him. She watched as he opened the file, his eyes skimming the single sheet of paper.

  “This is an obituary,” he said. “For a Noah Dans.”

  “I’m aware.”

  He looked up at her. “And that makes you…?”

  “Alaina. Alaina Dans.”

  He gave a slight nod. “You said he was killed?”

  “He was.”

  A slight frown creased his forehead. “This was local.” His eyes returned to the newspaper clipping. “Says he went to Aspen Falls High.”

  “He did. And yes it was.”

  “I remember this story.” His frown deepened. “And I don’t remember hearing anything about a murder case.”

  She set her gloved hands on her hips. She still had all of her outdoor gear on, and she was getting hot, but she didn’t intend to stick around long. She just wanted to give this Lucas McGowan the file, ask him to find out who killed her brother, and leave. Besides, there wasn’t anywhere to hang her coat and hat if she’d wanted to remove them.

  “That’s because the police refused to investigate,” she said frostily.

  “Refused?” He gave her a funny look. “I know most of the guys on the force. That doesn’t sound like something they would do.”

  “Well, they did.”

  “What exactly happened to him?” Lucas asked. His voice was a little softer, a little more muted.

  “He was killed,” Alaina repeated stubbornly. “And I want to hire you to find out who did it.”

  Lucas closed the file and rubbed a hand across his jaw. “Look, I—”

  Alaina’s purse was slung over her shoulder and she pulled it around to the front. She yanked one glove off and thrust her hand inside the purse, pulling out a black leather wallet a few seconds later. She fished out a handful of bills and dropped them on the desk, where they fell like confetti.

  It was hard not to notice Lucas’s reaction as the hundred-dollar bills floated to his desk.

  “What’s all that?” he managed to ask.

  “Payment,” Alaina said. “A thousand up front.”

  She could tell by the hungry expression on his face that she’d gotten his attention. Inwardly, she smiled.

  Good.

  His eyes were on the money that now littered his desk, but he made no move to pick up the bills. “So you said you think he was killed. Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I don’t know what happened,” she said. “That’s why I need you. To investigate.”

  He gave her an impatient look. “Yeah, I get that. But what were the circumstances surrounding his death? I remember reading about this, hearing about it, and can’t recall anything suspect about the incident. You think this was something else? Maybe bad drugs?”

  “Drugs?” She couldn’t hide the horror in her voice. “Noah didn’t do drugs.”

  “That’s what everyone says,” he said dryly. “Until they find out otherwise.”

  “He was not using drugs,” Alaina said firmly. “And he did not OD.”

  “Alright,” Lucas said, holding up a hand by way of apology. “There was a batch of bad stuff going around a little while ago. Just wanted to make sure that isn’t part of the equation.”

  “It’s not.”

  “How did he die, then?”

  She flinched. The story had been all over town. There was no way Lucas McGowan hadn’t heard about it. And yet she still hesitated.

  His gaze was cool and assessing. He pressed his lips together, then picked up a pencil and tapped it against the side of the desk. “I’m going to need as many detail
s as you can give me if you want me to help.”

  Alaina swallowed. She knew this, and yet it was still hard to get certain words out of her mouth. They felt awkward and heavy, like marbles rolling around on her tongue.

  He must have sensed her hesitation because he picked up the file and held it out to her. “I don’t think I can help you.”

  Panic bubbled up inside of her. Lucas McGowan was the only PI in town. The police had been useless, had pretty much dismissed her concerns and suspicions. If the guy sitting behind this desk, almost buried under files and papers and boxes, wouldn’t help her, who would?

  She reached into her wallet and withdrew another stack of bills. Two steps brought her closer to the desk and she held out her hand, so close to his face she was sure he could literally smell the money she was holding.

  “You always carry this much cash around?” he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re like a walking ATM.”

  She didn’t smile. She didn’t say anything.

  “Seriously, where did you get all this cash?”

  “You don’t need to concern yourself with where my money comes from,” she said evenly.

  His expression clouded. “You didn’t rob a bank or something, did you? Mug someone, maybe?”

  She scowled. “I earned every single one of those dollars.”

  Lucas’s eyes were locked on the fistful of bills still clutched in her hand.

  “Is this enough to get you started?”

  He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. His irises were a rich brown, almost mahogany, and her mind immediately flashed to the coffin that was now her brother’s permanent home. She felt the tears building, beginning to pool in her eyes and she cursed under her breath as she rapidly tried to blink them away.

  Something in his expression flickered. “This is important to you, isn’t it?”

  Silently, she nodded.

  He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I really wish you were here to apply for the job,” he muttered.

  He picked the pencil up again and twirled it between his fingers.

  Alaina relaxed her arm, bringing the wad of cash she was holding back to her side. “Who are you looking to hire?”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?” He waved his hand, gesturing to the mess surrounding them. “Someone to get me organized.”

  She was silent for a minute, thinking.

  “Fine,” she said. “If I help you out, will you take the job?”

  He didn’t even bother trying to hide his surprise. “What?”

  “You heard me,” she said. “I help here. And you help me.”

  “Do you have any experience?” Lucas asked. “Not to be rude, but I sort of need someone who can take the bull by the horns and whip this place into shape. Organization isn’t my strong suit.”

  She smiled thinly. “Take the bull by the horns? Nope. I’ll grab him by the balls.”

  Lucas’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he grinned. “Is that so?”

  She nodded. “I run my own company, Mr. McGowan.” Her gaze swept over the tiny office. “Pretty sure I can handle this.”

  His smile widened. “Well, alrighty then.”

  “So do we have a deal?” She pocketed the money she was holding and extended her gloved hand. “I help you clean this place up and you help me find out who killed my brother.”

  Lucas didn’t even hesitate. He leaned close and shot his hand across the desk.

  “Deal.”

  4

  Tuesday, March 20th

  2:55pm

  Lucas watched the wipers as they danced across his windshield, sweeping away the powdery snow. It was almost three o’clock, which meant the doors to the high school would open and students would start pouring out: to buses, to cars, to sidewalks to walk home.

  And he was there, waiting.

  Waiting to see if he could find out if there was more to Noah Dans’s story than the one on record.

  Alaina had stayed at his office for an hour yesterday once he’d agreed to take the case. With a little coaxing, she’d taken off her coat and hat and had pulled the vacant chair toward his desk so she would have a place to sit.

  And she told him what she knew.

  Her brother, Noah, age eighteen, was dead. He’d been found in his room on February 22nd, the victim of an apparent suicide. No one had been home that night, and it was his mother who had found him after returning from an overnight trip with her husband to the cities.

  Lucas cringed. As a former police officer, he’d witnessed some pretty traumatic things during his tenure. But he didn’t know that anything he’d experienced could compare to a parent finding their child dead.

  There were no signs of foul play. Noah had hung himself from his closet door.

  But there’d been no suicide note, either. And Alaina was insistent that her brother was not someone who would contemplate suicide.

  Lucas had struggled with this statement. Plenty of people suffered from depression, and many of them had the ability to hide their feelings well. Just because her brother hadn’t shown any outward signs of being suicidal did not mean he hadn’t entertained those thoughts.

  He’d gone through a list of questions with Alaina, and tried to hide his surprise at how little she seemed to know about her brother. It was clear that she was several years older than him, but when he asked, she’d had no idea who his friends were, if he had a girlfriend, or even what classes he was currently enrolled in. Her answers had reinforced his belief that perhaps she didn’t know her brother as well as she thought she did.

  The school bell sounded, and he yanked the key out of the ignition and opened the driver’s side door. The frigid air wrapped around him, the wind and snow pelting his skin, the cold immediately making his knee ache. The snowfall was light, but the subzero temps guaranteed that every single snowflake that fell would stick to the pavement. He should’ve worn boots, he realized, as he made his way across the slick sidewalk and toward the school.

  He watched as the doors to the main entrance opened and students began to trickle out. He scanned the crowd, realizing it was going to be harder than he’d originally thought to try and locate people who might have information to share.

  If he found anyone.

  Since Alaina didn’t have any names, Lucas had asked her to log onto her social media accounts so he could take a look at Noah’s profiles and accounts. He’d spent a good fifteen minutes scrolling through a few different sites, noting with growing unease that her brother’s posts had gotten little to no interaction. However, Lucas did jot down the names of individuals who had liked posts or left comments, hoping those kids might be a good starting point.

  But now, standing in front of the school, watching as kids bundled up like Eskimos hurried off to waiting cars and buses or began their walks home, he realized that the task might be near impossible.

  Everyone was wearing a coat, and everyone’s hair was hidden by hats and scarves wrapped around their necks. Although he had a good idea of who he was looking for, even he wasn’t naive enough to think he’d be able to pick them out of a crowd of teenagers wearing what essentially amounted to matching winter uniforms.

  Lucas pulled his own jacket tighter as he made his way toward the school’s entrance. Maybe he could take a quick peek inside, see if he spotted anyone before they’d bundled themselves up in all of their cold weather gear.

  He entered the school, the double doors leading to an open foyer with the cafeteria directly ahead of him and the school offices to the left. To the right was a short hallway that led to the gymnasium.

  A man seated behind a desk parked near the entrance looked up at him. “Can I help you?”

  Lucas knew who he was: the building supervisor, Jerry Killeen.

  He tugged his own hat off and parked his sunglasses on his head, and Jerry broke into a smile. “Long time no see,” he said, standing up and shaking Lucas’s hand.

  “It’s been a while,” Lucas admitt
ed.

  Jerry scratched his thick beard. It looked a little grayer than Lucas remembered. His friend looked a little heavier, too, Lucas thought, as he took in Jerry’s ample gut ballooning out over his belted jeans.

  “At least a couple years now, I think.”

  “Probably.”

  Jerry squinted. “So what brings you here? You’re a private investigator now, right?”

  Lucas nodded. “I am.”

  “You here to interrogate one of the students?” Jerry’s tone was joking, but he soon realized he was right. He quickly sobered. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Lucas said. “Just need to ask a couple students some questions about another student.” The less he said, the better.

  Jerry frowned and glanced toward the school offices.

  “I just need to know where to find a couple of kids,” Lucas said. “If you could help me out…well, that would be great.”

  Jerry gave him an uncomfortable look. “I don’t know, man. Visitors are supposed to check in at the front office. And I’m not supposed to give out student information.”

  Lucas smiled. “Come on, man. It’s me. I’m former AFPD, remember?”

  Jerry shoved his hands in his pockets, his gaze ricocheting from Lucas to the office and then back to him.

  “Connor Desmond,” Lucas said quickly. “Name ring a bell?”

  The quick flash of recognition on Jerry’s face told Lucas what he needed to know.

  “Where could I find him?”

  “Well,” Jerry hedged, licking his lips.

  “A few questions, man,” Lucas told him. “That’s it. I promise.”

  His friend expelled a breath. “He’s one of the managers for the basketball team. JV.”

  Lucas smiled. “Thanks. I owe you.”

  Jerry cleared his throat. “That you do. I’ll expect a beer at Shorty’s next time I see you.”

  Lucas was already heading down the hallway toward the gym. “You’re on.”

  Without a backward glance, he strode down the hallway, scanning the faces of the kids he passed. He was looking for a girl, too—Carmen Garcia—and even though he had no idea if she was still on campus, he figured it didn’t hurt to keep his eyes open for her, too.