Page 125 of Lee

The space might not have been wide, but it was deep. There were a few larger tables in front of the large windows, and small two-seater tables ringed the perimeter of the café. In the middle was an assortment of overstuffed chairs and love seats, grouped around coffee tables.

Directly in front of the door and to the left of the space was the counter and a bakery case, so Lee made his way over to order a coffee and a pastry.

After he had his order, Lee turned to see if the PI was there already. He spotted him in the back half of the room and made his way over to his table.

Lee settled across from the private detective in the dimly lit corner, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the murmur of subdued conversations.

The detective was a middle-aged man with sparse light brown hair, who had a face that spoke of his years spent uncovering secrets, some of which had probably been best left hidden.

Was his past one of those secrets?

Lee hoped not.

“Thanks for meeting me here,” Peter Branford said, his voice low and gravelly. “I wanted to speak with you in person rather than just sending this information to you.”

There was no one close to them, but the man still kept his voice subdued. It sparked worry inside Lee.

“What did you find?”

“How important to you is it that you know about your past?” he asked, in lieu of an answer. His voice was a careful blend of empathy and professionalism.

Lee considered his answer, because while he’d been prepared to ask for the man to just hand over the info for him to look at when he was confident it was what he wanted, now he felt like he needed to know.

The fact that the PI was suggesting he might not want to know gave him pause, but also spiked his curiosity.

The PI regarded him with sharp gray eyes, but his expression was unreadable.

“Important.”

The man gave a single nod, then dropped his gaze to the large flat manila envelope in front of him on the table. He tapped it as he looked up at Lee and said, “I found the information you asked for. It was a bit more than I was expecting.”

Lee held the man’s gaze and said, “Tell me.”

“Have you watched the documentary Angel Brothers?”

“I don’t think so. Where is it being shown?”

Peter told him about the streaming service where it was available, but Lee shook his head. “I don’t have a subscription with them. Why?”

“I have strong reason to believe that it’s your story.”

“What?” Lee straightened in his chair. “My story?”

Peter nodded. “It’s a documentary about a set of parents who abused and eventually murdered their sons. It covers their trial.”

Lee narrowed his gaze at the man. “Except I’m still alive.”

“Yes. You are.” Peter cleared his throat. “From what I was able to discover, they faked your death, probably in order to allow you to grow up in peace.”

“Faked my death? How could they do that?”

“Your older brother died of his injuries, so I guess it surprised no one when they were told you had succumbed as well.”

Lee felt sick to his stomach. He had an older brother? Why didn’t he remember?

“Tell me. Start at the beginning.”

Peter glanced around, then said, “I’ll give you the details about yourself and your brother, but not the details of the crimes committed against you.”

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