Page 3 of Wood You Rather?

“He was murdered.”

I froze. That was the last thing I’d expected him to say. “Oh shit.”

“At the time, it was ruled an accident. Driver error. But we have new evidence.”

I nodded. I had been in this situation before. As a detective, I couldn’t count how many times people came to me with theories and “evidence,” hoping to make sense of the senseless. It was the shitty part of the job. Watching people fall apart in real time, and being forced to stand by while they searched for answers they would probably never get. Because terrible shit happened every day. And most of the time, there was no rhyme or reason for it.

I went to the wall and snagged a folding chair for myself.

“Tell me more,” I said, setting it up behind my desk.

“My sister,” he murmured, studying his hands, “she’s an engineer. And she manages our equipment. She found evidence that the brakes had been tampered with. This part called the slack adjuster. I have photos on my phone.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out the device.

I held up a hand. I had no idea how brakes worked, so photos would do us no good. “Did you contact the police?”

“Of course. The police, the FBI, the safety inspectors. The forestry commission.” His voice cracked in frustration on the last word.

“And because they closed the case two years ago, no one wants to reopen it,” I guessed, keeping my voice soft.

He looked up, his eyes—eyes that just a few minutes ago had been cold and calculating—swam with sadness. “Yes. And that’s not it. Last year, my brother Henri was in a serious accident. Same cause.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Something big is going on.”

All my senses tingled. I had so many questions. The familiar whirring of my brain activated, ready for a problem to solve. A puzzle to put together piece by tiny piece.

But before I could ask any follow-ups, the door swung open.

“Is this guy bothering you, Parker?” Tex was standing in the doorway, his large, tattooed arms folded across his expansive chest. He was technically my landlord, since he owned the building and the tattoo parlor, but he was also my friend.

I gave him a smile. His drawl was adorable, as was his huge heart.

We’d fooled around a couple of times when I was in a bad spot the previous year, but there wasn’t any chemistry. He was a big, burly, tattooed biker, but a total softie on the inside. I let him down easy, and he’d been an excellent friend every day since.

He eyed Pascal up and down, one side of his mouth hitched up, making it clear he was not impressed. Tex was objectively terrifying, but Pascal didn’t seem bothered. My ex-boyfriend Bryce, despite being a federal agent, would have shit his pants if a guy like Tex had glared at him.

But instead, Pascal looked annoyed.

He gave Tex a dismissive smile. “We’re discussing business. Could you give us some privacy? As I’m sure you understand, Ms. Harding’s business requires the utmost discretion.”

Tex grunted in response and watched me, waiting for direction.

“It’s business,” I said, raising a brow, silently signaling that he should leave.

Turning slowly, he said, “I’ll be outside if you need me, sugar.”

When he was gone, Pascal narrowed his eyes on me. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“Maybe,” I said flippantly, annoyed with the interruption and also with his prying. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t. Just trying to determine whether you’re actually capable of doing this job.”

“Says the man begging me to take it.”

“I don’t beg,” he grumbled, his voice deep and smooth. He tugged on the collar of his dress shirt like it didn’t fit properly. But from where I sat, it looked like it was custom made for his body. On further inspection, I realized that, though his suit was expensive, as well as his shoes—and despite the haughty air he put on—he was restless. Uncomfortable in his own skin. It was fascinating.

He clearly put a lot of time and effort into cultivating this veneer of confidence and professionalism. But there were cracks in that armor. Though most people probably didn’t see them.

But I wasn’t most people.

I was trained to ignore the pretense and the exterior and look deeply.

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