Page 9 of House of Lies

I put my palms on the table, leaning in. “This is a new lead. You have to investigate.”

Detective Lewis sighs. “Sit down, Miss Monroe.”

I reluctantly take my seat as he studies the piece of paper, the organizer, the piece of paper again. His jaw tics a few times, lips moving as if he’s biting the inside of his mouth.

My heart does a happy little gallop in my chest when he picks up the phone and dials Remington’s number.

“It’s been disconnected,” I tell him, and he gives me that same ‘I’m so over this’ look as he waits for the call to connect. He sets down the receiver a few seconds later, and I shrug when he narrows his eyes at me again.

I made Detective Lewis’s life a living hell during the investigation. But he kept treating this like a runaway, and nothing I did or said changed his mind.

He swivels in his chair, wiggling his computer mouse until the screen comes on, clearing his throat a few times as he waits.

“I looked up the address on street view. It’s a real estate company. I think she was going to sell the house.”

He logs in with slow, methodical keystrokes that make me want to pull out my hair, silent.

“I tried calling, but I guess they’re closed today.”

Lewis ignores me. I crane over the desk, but being so short, and with his screen angled away, I can’t see anything. He clicks a few times, and then turns back to me, his chest expanding as he takes a calming breath.

“Explain to me how you think this is a lead, Miss Monroe.”

I stare at him, speechless for a moment. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He sits back, elbow propped on the arm of his chair, head cradled in the crook of his index finger and thumb, waiting.

“Humor me.”

“She was going to see this real estate company about selling the house.” Heat rushes to my voice when I realize how that sounds, but I hold out a hand, hoping to stall him if his train of thought is headed in that same direction. “Obviously whatever deal she made never went through. Because she missed the appointment. Because she’s been kidnapped…”

I trail off when Detective Lewis’s lips thin out.

“It’s a lead,” I mumble. “You have to look into it.” Then I add a grudging, “Please.”

He glances away, sits forward, and slowly closes the Filofax, the note still nestled inside. Opening his drawer, he takes out a throat lozenge and pops it into his mouth before speaking.

“Your mother took out three mortgages on her property. Did you know that?”

I slump in my chair. This conversation is taking a whole different direction than the one I expected.

The only thing I’ve ever wanted was a family. My dream life—one I used to think about all the time before Mom disappeared—was finding the perfect man to marry, moving into the perfect house, having the perfect amount of kids, and being the perfect mother.

But I never had time to find love, because I started working straight out of high school.

“What she owed on her loans well exceeded what she could sell the house for,” Detective Lewis explains, and to his credit, barely sounds condescending at all. “Any realtor would have told her that.”

“It’s still a lead though, right?” I bite the inside of my lip.

“Yes,” he sighs begrudgingly. “I’ll call the realtors tomorrow morning once they’re open, ask around, see if I can track down whoever she was supposed to meet that night.”

“Remington.”

He dips his head, but it’s not really a nod. There’s a moment’s silence before he asks, “How are you holding up, Cassidy?”

I shrug. “Fine, I guess.”

“Have you met with your mother’s lawyer yet?”

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