now, her workload was pretty light. There were two divorce cases, her least favorite. She took them because they paid the bills, but figuring out what someone’s soon-to-be-ex spouse was lying about was never much fun.
There was one missing jewelry case, which sounded more interesting than it probably was. Ellie wished there had been a big jewelry heist in Grand Junction, but instead, she was pretty sure that this woman had left her favorite earrings in a hotel room. Instead of tracking down jewel thieves, she was going to have to call every hotel on the woman’s two-week itinerary, ask about their lost and found, try to figure out which housekeeper had cleaned the room the woman had stayed in.
The last thing besides Garrett’s parents was a collection agency who wanted her to find someone for them, because the person owed money. As much as she hated it, that was Ellie’s favorite kind of case. Even though she felt bad finding someone for loan sharks, she loved the thrill of figuring out where and how the person had eluded them.
I wish I could do those, except not turn them over at the end , she thought, looking at the file on her desk.
Hands down, Garrett’s case was the most interesting thing going on right now, and hands extra-double-down, Garrett was the most interesting thing that had walked into her office... well, ever, in the five years since she’d set up shop.
He’s your client , she thought to herself. Quit it. Be a professional .
Well, the faster she solved this case, the faster he wasn’t a client anymore.
Ellie inserted the flash drive into her computer and fired up her billing clock.
* * *
At 4:45, Ellie felt like she’d made a good start. She’d gone over the information on the flash drive — Garrett hadn’t lied, there wasn’t much — and made an extensive list of possible leads to follow.
Experience told her that most weren’t going to pan out, especially sixteen years after the incident. People died, they moved away, they just didn’t remember what happened on a day that didn’t mean much to them.
Ellie did her best not to have preconceived notions about cases, but this one seemed pretty simple: a bunch of rural cops had fucked up. If there was a cover-up, they’d been covering up how much they’d screwed up, not foul play.
Occam’s razor and all that , Ellie thought. It’s way more likely that someone messed up than that they successfully covered up a murder for sixteen years .
She pulled the flash drive back out of her computer, tossed it into a drawer, and locked the drawer.
As she pulled the key out, she heard footsteps coming back up the stairs. For a moment, her heart beat faster.
Maybe it’s Garrett again , she thought. Maybe he forgot something, like to ask me to dinner .
There was a polite knock on the door, and then the door opened without waiting for a response.
“Howdy,” said the woman standing there.
Ellie almost burst out laughing, remembering her professionalism at the last moment.
“Hi,” she said. “How can I help you?”
The woman looked like a cartoon cowgirl from a Saturday morning cartoon: plaid shirt with western designs stitched over the pockets, tight jeans with a big belt buckle, blond pigtails, brand new cowboy boots.
Snakeskin , Ellie thought automatically.
The woman smiled, came in, and shut the door. Something about her made the back of Ellie’s neck prickle the tiniest amount, and she thought of the pistol in her desk.
“Are you taking on cases right now?” the woman asked, still smiling.
“I am,” Ellie said, automatically.
Maybe someday she could decline a case, but not now. She had bills to pay.
The woman sat in a chair, facing Ellie.
“I’m wondering if you could look into a fellow for me,” the woman said. “I can give you a photo. I just need to know where he is, where he goes, what he does for a couple of days.”
Ellie raised her eyebrows.
“Divorce?” she asked.
“Sure,” the woman said, her smile
There was one missing jewelry case, which sounded more interesting than it probably was. Ellie wished there had been a big jewelry heist in Grand Junction, but instead, she was pretty sure that this woman had left her favorite earrings in a hotel room. Instead of tracking down jewel thieves, she was going to have to call every hotel on the woman’s two-week itinerary, ask about their lost and found, try to figure out which housekeeper had cleaned the room the woman had stayed in.
The last thing besides Garrett’s parents was a collection agency who wanted her to find someone for them, because the person owed money. As much as she hated it, that was Ellie’s favorite kind of case. Even though she felt bad finding someone for loan sharks, she loved the thrill of figuring out where and how the person had eluded them.
I wish I could do those, except not turn them over at the end , she thought, looking at the file on her desk.
Hands down, Garrett’s case was the most interesting thing going on right now, and hands extra-double-down, Garrett was the most interesting thing that had walked into her office... well, ever, in the five years since she’d set up shop.
He’s your client , she thought to herself. Quit it. Be a professional .
Well, the faster she solved this case, the faster he wasn’t a client anymore.
Ellie inserted the flash drive into her computer and fired up her billing clock.
* * *
At 4:45, Ellie felt like she’d made a good start. She’d gone over the information on the flash drive — Garrett hadn’t lied, there wasn’t much — and made an extensive list of possible leads to follow.
Experience told her that most weren’t going to pan out, especially sixteen years after the incident. People died, they moved away, they just didn’t remember what happened on a day that didn’t mean much to them.
Ellie did her best not to have preconceived notions about cases, but this one seemed pretty simple: a bunch of rural cops had fucked up. If there was a cover-up, they’d been covering up how much they’d screwed up, not foul play.
Occam’s razor and all that , Ellie thought. It’s way more likely that someone messed up than that they successfully covered up a murder for sixteen years .
She pulled the flash drive back out of her computer, tossed it into a drawer, and locked the drawer.
As she pulled the key out, she heard footsteps coming back up the stairs. For a moment, her heart beat faster.
Maybe it’s Garrett again , she thought. Maybe he forgot something, like to ask me to dinner .
There was a polite knock on the door, and then the door opened without waiting for a response.
“Howdy,” said the woman standing there.
Ellie almost burst out laughing, remembering her professionalism at the last moment.
“Hi,” she said. “How can I help you?”
The woman looked like a cartoon cowgirl from a Saturday morning cartoon: plaid shirt with western designs stitched over the pockets, tight jeans with a big belt buckle, blond pigtails, brand new cowboy boots.
Snakeskin , Ellie thought automatically.
The woman smiled, came in, and shut the door. Something about her made the back of Ellie’s neck prickle the tiniest amount, and she thought of the pistol in her desk.
“Are you taking on cases right now?” the woman asked, still smiling.
“I am,” Ellie said, automatically.
Maybe someday she could decline a case, but not now. She had bills to pay.
The woman sat in a chair, facing Ellie.
“I’m wondering if you could look into a fellow for me,” the woman said. “I can give you a photo. I just need to know where he is, where he goes, what he does for a couple of days.”
Ellie raised her eyebrows.
“Divorce?” she asked.
“Sure,” the woman said, her smile
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