Chapter 11 Louise
LOUISE
The door swung open.
Toothpick Guy returned—this time with two more men who looked like they could bench press a Buick. The fact that I hadn’t heard their footsteps confirmed my suspicion: the room was soundproof. Just like wherever they’d been doing that “target training.”
Comforting.
“Miss Sloane,” Toothpick drawled. “This here’s Justin Montgomery.” He nodded to the bigger guy in front. “And behind him is Roman Thieves. New to the job.”
I looked between them. Justin watched me like I was a well-marbled ribeye. Roman, like I was venomous and best handled with tongs.
Justin had shaggy, dirty blond hair that gave “beach wave” vibes most girls would kill for. He was the shortest of the three—which wasn’t saying much at over six feet—but broad-shouldered and built like a Marvel character. Rugged, handsome, all cowboy charm.
Roman was… something else. Towering, tattooed, and terrifying. Ink snaked up his neck, disappearing beneath a black T-shirt stretched tight across muscle. Jet-black hair. Eyes that didn’t blink. If I saw him on a sidewalk, I’d cross the street—and keep walking.
Justin’s T-shirt read: i pooped today beneath a neon yellow smiley face. Roman’s just said nothing, the solid black fabric somehow louder than words.
I turned back to Toothpick. “And what’s your name?”
“Oh. Mack McCoy. PI. Been here over a decade.”
“You’re all private investigators?”
“Yep. We’re the whole crew, aside from the boss,” Mack said. His gaze flickered to Justin. “And one we’re trying to get back.”
“Well, great.” I forced cheer into my voice. “Let’s get started. How does this work?”
Mack crossed his arms. The other two mirrored him like synchronized bodyguards. No one moved toward the chairs.
I stayed standing, my fingers tightening around the strap of my backpack. A metal table was the only thing between me and a human wall of six hundred collective pounds of testosterone, steel, and silent judgment.
So far, the vibe wasn’t screaming welcome.
“Let’s talk about finances first,” Mack said.
“I’ve got the money,” I lied.
“Tell me about your friend.”
I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands, so I slung my backpack over my shoulder and stuffed them into my pockets. “Kara Meyers, age eighteen, born and raised in Ponco, was found last night, her body left to rot in the woods. I was the one who found her.”
“You were part of the search party?”
I nodded. Mack knew more than he let on.
“She was last seen here in Berry Springs fourteen days ago, at a gas station in town. Alone. The cops have made no arrests, brought in no additional resources, and have no leads.”
“How do you know this? About the leads?”
“Spoke with the front desk receptionist an hour ago. Ellen is her name.” I heaved out a breath.
“Truth is, Kara wasn’t exactly a model citizen, and she has a rap sheet.
I’m worried she’s not getting as much effort as someone from here who doesn’t have a record.
So, here I am, hoping you guys can do a better job than the Berry Springs PD at finding who killed her. ”
“How do you know someone killed her?”
I hesitated because I had no proof other than the certainty swirling in my gut. “Well, that’s what you should find out.”
“Are you a relative?”
“Kind of.”
“What’s kind of mean?”
“I was her mentor at a local afterschool program. Like a buddy program for at-risk youth.”
“How was she at risk?”
I shifted my weight. “Along with her previous indiscretions, her dad is in federal prison and her mom is a drug addict. She’s pretty much been on her own her entire life.”
The room fell silent, and I got mad. Why was it that someone who was at risk seemed less important than the straight-A captain of the cheerleading squad?
“Listen. Kara deserves justice, and I’m not leaving Berry Springs until she gets it.”
“Where was her last known location, exactly?”
“Not sure. Her friend Shauna, who I believe the cops also spoke with, said Kara told her she was going camping somewhere along Shadow River. She said that Kara mentioned checking out that old haunted house, Hollow Hill.”
The men exchanged glances.
“Who was she camping with?” Mack asked.
“No one knows. But I think whoever that was is who killed her.”
My attention was pulled to a shadow in the hallway. A figure that seemed to appear out of nowhere stood outside the room, looking in through the window. My stomach did a little dip the moment I saw him.
He looked like he’d been carved from stone.
Jet-black hair, combed with precision, sat above a face that could've been chiseled from granite—sharp jaw, smooth skin, not a blemish in sight.
His suit, dark and flawless, draped over broad shoulders like it had been tailored in another tax bracket.
Even from a distance, I could tell it was expensive.
Everything about him whispered money and power.
But it was more than that.
Unlike the other men, he wasn’t rugged. He was polished. Impeccably so. Controlled. Contained. Dangerous.
He didn’t look like someone who worked with these men.
He looked like someone who owned them.
Mack followed my gaze.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“That’s the boss. Astor.”
“Astor Stone?”
“Yep. Owns the place.”
And just like that, the man disappeared into the shadows.
“Anyway,” Mack said, easily returning to the subject as if accustomed to Astor Stone’s random and brief appearances. “That house, the Hollow Hill Estate, is one gust of wind away from being dust. No one goes there. Anymore, anyway.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Why?”
“To see if I could find something the cops missed.”
“Not smart.”
“Never claimed to be.”
“Stay away from it.” This deep voice came from Roman with a hint of an Irish accent.
“What was her official cause of death?” Mack asked.
“She . . .” The image of Kara’s rotting body flashed through my head. “She was in bad shape.”
“Dead a while?”
“A week, maybe more. That’s what I overheard the medical examiner say.”
“What other information do you have on her?” Mack asked.
“Kara was homeless. She was living out of her car.” I glanced down, guilt twisting in my stomach. I didn’t know she’d been homeless since her eighteenth birthday. I only learned this by speaking to her friend Shauna.
“Did they find her car?”
“I don’t think so. That’s suspicious, right?”
“ Possibly. Did she have anything on her when you found her? A cell phone? Purse?”
I shook my head. “She was naked.”
“Naked?”
“Yes.”
Another glance exchanged between the men. Then—
“Do you know if she had a computer or a laptop?”
“I don’t know.”
A moment passed as all three beasts stared at me.
“We’ll see what we can do.” Mack motioned to the door. “This way, Miss—”
“Wait—that’s it? Don’t you need her picture?” I set my backpack on the table and began searching through the mess of crinkled papers and candy wrappers. “Or her old address, her mom’s house, or maybe the last number I know she had, or—”
“We’ll handle all that. I’ll have our office manager email you the particulars, the contract, the financials.” He glanced down at my duct-taped boot. “Once you review that, you’ll sign on the dotted line, and we’ll get moving.”
“But I want you to get moving now.”
“We don’t make a move without a signature and retainer. Boss’s orders.”
“Fine. Anything else?” I remained glued to the floor. There was no way this meeting was done. I’d expected copious notes, additional information requested, an emptied carafe of coffee, a few cigarette breaks.
“Nope.”
Roman opened the door. Mack motioned me ahead, and together, we began down the long, dark hallway.
“You said you’re missing a man.”
He frowned, looking down at me. “What?”
“Back there, in the room, you said ‘one we’re trying to get back’ when you were talking about the team. Who? Who were you talking about?”
Mack’s expression pulled tight. “Honey, I don’t even know anymore.”