Questions

Grant

“What are you doing?” I ask Abby as I enter her office, puzzled by the sheets of paper scattered all around her.

When she got out of bed earlier, I thought she was just going to the kitchen to grab a midnight snack or a glass of water. When she didn’t come back after ten minutes, I went to look for her, confused when I didn’t find her in the kitchen. I searched the house, eventually finding her in her office.

“I thought I told you to take a break from work.” I walk toward her. “You need your rest, Abby. The baby is more important.”

“This isn’t work,” she answers, not even looking up from the papers.

Sighing, I kneel and pick up one of them, surprised when I find that it’s a printed news article about the death of Cristina Gomez, her mother. I pick up another, and it’s the same story but by a different writer from a different website. So is the next and the next and the next, some of them with gruesome pictures, the only exception a print-out about a man named Bernard Peters.

I frown. “What’s going on, Abby?”

She doesn’t answer, reading an article.

“Abby.” I grab her arm. “What’s going on here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she finally answers. “Something was bothering me.”

“What?”

“Something about my mother’s death.”

I frown. “I knew you shouldn’t have had dinner with Dennis. You’re not supposed to get upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she tells me, wrenching her arm away and going through another article. “I’m… confused, troubled.”

“Of course, you’d be troubled. These are pictures of bloody corpses.”

“It’s not that that troubles me. It’s something that’s missing.”

“Missing?”

“Dennis said he read about my mother’s death and then he said something about her boyfriend, the one who supposedly killed her and then killed himself, being a four-eyed nerd. But there’s nothing in the articles about that.”

“What?” My eyebrows furrow. “Are you playing detective now?”

She doesn’t answer, getting back to reading.

I sigh. “Abby, the article Dennis read could have been taken down, okay?”

Still, no answer.

“What? Are you saying Dennis had something to do with your mother’s death? I thought after he walked out the door, he never contacted any of you again.”

“I thought so, too. I’m not saying they had any contact. I’m really just trying to figure out why Dennis said what he said. If you look at the pictures of Bernard, he isn’t wearing glasses.”

“You can hardly see his face, Abby,” I point out.

“I can see that he’s not wearing glasses.”

“Maybe Dennis just made that comment for no reason.”

“He sounded spiteful, though.”

I sigh. “Go back to bed, Abby.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“Abby.”

She stands up, her gaze pleading with mine. “I’m sorry, Grant. I just have to get this bee out of my bonnet, you know. I told the cops not to investigate my mother’s death because I was convinced that it was simple. I already knew how my mother acted around men so everything fit. But what if it wasn’t simple? What if something else happened, and I just didn’t want it to see it because I was hurting?”

I pull her into my arms. “Of course, you were hurting. You lost your mother.”

“I have to find out how, Grant,” she whispers against my chest. “I just have to.”

“I know.” I kiss the top of her head. “Go to bed. I’ll have someone investigate it – a professional who isn’t pregnant.”

She looks up at me with a frown. “Did you just insult me?”

“No. I’m helping you.”

“Who’s going to investigate, though? Roger isn’t here.”

She’s right. Roger is currently in London. He’s not the only one capable of investigating something like this, though.

“I know someone.”

* * *

“You want me to investigate a woman’s death?” Cassie casts me a puzzled glance from the driver’s seat of her Subaru Forester.

Cassandra Hall or Cassie, as I like to call her, is a private detective, one recommended to me by Roger’s friend. Sometimes, I ask her to gather information for me, usually about women. She was even the one who put together that file on Abby.

This is usually how we meet so people won’t know about us – in her car parked somewhere out of sight and surveillance.

“What? Are you into dead women now?” she teases, sucking on the lollipop in her hand.

She’s always been sassy. That’s one of the things I like about her. I have to say she’s hot, too, with that hair of hers that’s a different color each time I see her – pink this time – and her slender figure that reminds me of a gymnast’s. I’ve never fucked her, though. I can’t say I never wanted to but I’ve never tried. I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t want to mess with her.

“I’m interested in this one,” I tell her. “Because she’s the mother of my pregnant girlfriend.”

“Congratulations.”

She pops the lollipop inside her mouth and gets the folder from my hand, going through the papers inside, which are some of the articles that Abby printed.

When she’s done, she tosses the folder into the backseat.

“This will take more work.” She leans against the back of her seat, placing her arms around the headrest. “You need to pay me a little more.”

“Of course,” I assure her. “I’m especially interested in finding out if a man named Dennis Cooper is involved.”

“Dennis Cooper,” she repeats.

“He currently works in the marketing department of Parsons Entertainment.”

Cassie nods. “Sure.”

“And I need this as soon as possible.”

“Got it.”

I get out of her car, looking around before getting into mine. As I drive away, I let out a sigh. At least, that’s done. Hopefully, Cassie can get answers soon before Abby gets worn out from thinking too much and hopefully, they’re the answers Abby needs. I’m starting to get worried about her and the baby.

After a few minutes, my phone rings. I pick it up, looking at the screen.

Lindsey?

Why is Lindsey calling?

I press the button to answer the call. “Hello.”

“Hey, Grant. Is Abby with you? She was supposed to meet me but she suddenly canceled, saying she had something important to do. She didn’t say what, though, and I’ve been trying to call her but she’s not answering.”

I stop the car near the curb. “What?”

“I know she could just be shopping or, you know, trying to relax but I just can’t help but worry. Is she with you?”

“No.”

But I have a feeling I know what she’s gone to do.

Fuck.

“Grant?”

“I’ll call you back,” I tell her, ending the call and making another as I continue driving.

“Forgot something?” Cassie answers at once.

“Get me the address of Dennis Cooper’s apartment here in New York now. I don’t care what it costs.”

“Okay.”

I don’t even care if I have to give Cassie a million dollars. Right now, Abby’s safety is my utmost priority.

I have to get to her as soon as possible.

Don’t do anything stupid, Abby.