Page 12 of Wood You Rather?

“A lot of PI work is done online,” she said. “That’s the nature of the job.”

I angled closer, lowering my voice. “This isn’t just PI work, and you know it. I need someone who can put the pieces together. Understand the broader context. Make sense of all the random pieces that we’ve pulled together.”

Moving closer, she matched my stance. She was interested. Her eyes were bright and her look thoughtful and empathetic.

This was my moment. My chance to close.

“I need you.” Shit, that came out wrong. “My family needs you.”

“I have a business here. A life here. I can’t relocate to rural Maine for an extended period of time.”

“Are you really satisfied chasing bail jumpers and cheating husbands?” I asked, giving her a pointed look.

“Not in the fucking least,” she hissed. “But my asshole father has blackballed me. I had contracts lined up, and he killed all of them because I dared to defy him.”

Whoa. Wasn’t expecting that kind of confession. She didn’t give off the daddy-issue vibe. Though I supposed I’d been out of the game for a while. There was a lot to unpack there, but I decided flattery was my best play.

I took a thumb drive out of my jacket pocket and slid it across the table.

“Here are the incident reports and interview records, along with a bunch of miscellaneous information.”

She reached for it, but I snatched it back.

“This,” I said, holding it up, “is your chance. A huge investigation that only you can handle. The average guy couldn’t do this work, and you know it.”

Her face softened. Clearly this woman wasn’t often told how extraordinary she was. “And you won’t get in my way?”

“Nope. As much as it pains me to hand this over to anyone, my family deserves answers, and you’re our best option.”

She took the drive and turned it over in her hand, studying it. Then she directed those keen eyes on me.

“Tell me right now why you want me for this case. What’s the real reason?”

I sat up straighter, enjoying the command. Hmm. I’d have to file that away for later.

With a deep inhale, I willed myself not to fuck this up and say the wrong thing. “Parker Louise Harding, you are one of the sharpest people I’ve ever met. And that’s saying a lot. I’ve worked with some straight-up sharks in my life. And it’s obvious you care about justice and doing the right thing.

“So help me. Help me find out what happened to my dad. Not because you have any empathy for me, but because it’s a fucking challenge.”

A slow smile crept across her face as she squeezed the drive in her fist.

“Would you rather stay here in Portland and spend your time on work that doesn’t challenge you? Or head up north and really test your skills?”

Her shoulders were pulled back, and her chin was tipped high. She was eating it up.

“The thing is—you and me?” She pointed back and forth between us. “We are mutually assured destruction. Any agreement to work together is essentially a suicide pact. Now that I’m working to build a successful second career, I’d like to keep it.”

She pressed her lips together and scrutinized me.

I was ready for it. She could drag out the silence as long as she wanted. She wasn’t going to turn me down. Chalk it up to confidence or experience, but I negotiated for a living. I knew when to be quiet and let my opponent hand me a win.

“We’d have to work out the details.”

I nodded.

“And I’m not cheap.”

“Of course not. We’re prepared to exceed your standard rate.”

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