Page 35 of Knocked Up by my Best Friend's Brothers

From Cassius. He often says I’m a goddess deserving of only pearls and diamonds. I made a point of wearing them at the office, too. It felt nice to see him smile to himself during an earlier meeting. Our little secret.

“Not many women in their twenties can pull off pearls, you know,” Sharon says, tucking a lock of ginger hair behind her ear. She’s wearing concealer and perhaps a little too much powder, which means she’s hiding some dark shadows under her eyes. “You look stunning, Christa. I really hope you’re well.”

“I am, thank you. How about you?” I keep my voice down, worried someone might overhear me, even though the office’s walls are pretty thick. It’s just my post-Perry-Sage paranoia, which is a hard thing to shake. “Have you been getting enough sleep lately?”

“I try. I really do.” She sighs deeply.

“What’s keeping you up?”

Her voice drops by a few noticeable degrees. “You know what…”

Nervously, I look around, though there’s nothing and no one around. Stupid reflexes. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, and that’s the problem. That Detective Morris, remember him?”

“I do, yes.”

“He hasn’t been returning my calls. It’s been six months since he took over Brett’s case from the other guy. They won’t tell me anything.”

I bite my lower lip, trying hard to ignore the pang in my heart. Brett was a good and decent guy. Not exactly the love of my life,but he was sweet, and he certainly didn’t deserve to die like he did.

“What about that private investigator you told me about? Did you ever reach out to him?” I ask Sharon, carefully analyzing her reaction.

“I did; and thank you for the money you wired for that, by the way,” she says. “He has all the information I had. I guess it’s in his hands now. The cops won’t do anything.”

“Don’t worry about the money. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, honey, you and Brett were only together for a few months. I’m genuinely touched that you still reach out, still care. You don’t have to do any of this, though.”

Oh, but I do.

Sharon doesn’t know what I saw. I will never be able to wipe those images from my memory. The look on Brett’s face in his final moments. My stomach flips. I’ve been fighting off nausea the entire morning.

“It’s my pleasure, Sharon. Who’s doing what? Who’s not doing anything? What’s life like these days?”

She takes a deep breath and a long sip of black coffee. “In short? The cops are probably looking at a cold case. Nobody from the precinct has done a follow-up for over two months,” she says. “Like I said, that Morris guy is dodging my calls. I called the precinct a few times, too.”

“And what did they have to say?”

“Nothing. They put me on hold, then told me he’s out in the field, that he’d call back.”

“He never called back.”

Sharon shakes her head. “No. But the PI is working on something. He said he’s got a few leads, but he needs more money to pay off potential informants. He’s got receipts and everything, though, so don’t you worry about that. The guy is legit and dedicated. I’m just waiting for another insurance payoff to cover it.”

“You don’t have to wait for anything,” I reply, my fingers already clicking over the keyboard as I complete a bank transfer from my computer. “You should have the funds in your account in a few minutes tops.”

“Oh, God, Christa, please. Stop it! You’ve already sent thousands my way!”

“You need it more than me,” I say with a warm smile.

It’s dirty money, anyway. It was supposed to keep me quiet, but that didn’t turn out the way they wanted. One way or another, I’ll make sure it never does. Besides, Sharon’s got a mortgage and has had hip surgery, plus this private investigator thing—which I hope will yield results.

“You are too good for this world, honey,” Sharon says.

I’m not as good as she thinks. Maybe Brett would still be alive today if I’d done the right thing sooner. I’m still learning to live with my guilt. It hurts.

“It’s okay,” I tell her.

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