Novel & Cerita The Investigator

"I want to know the truth. Whatever it is." Damon is quiet for a moment, his fingers steepled under his chin in that way he has when he's thinking. The firelight plays across his face, softening his features, making him look almost approachable. "I have investigators who specialize in this kind of work," he says finally. "They’re discrete and very thorough. They've found people who didn't want to be found, uncovered histories that were deliberately buried. If this man exists in any record anywhere, they can find him."

I sipped my coffee, shivering a little in the draft, and let myself feel the old thrill of anticipation. If someone was targeting Stella, that could be useful. Or it could ruin everything I’d worked for. It all depended on who they were, and what they wanted. I was still standing there, lost in thought, when the doorbell rang. My heart jumped, then settled. The housekeeper was off today, and I hadn’t ordered anything. I padded to the door, peered through the peephole, and saw a familiar shape—the investigator, tall and neat in a gray coat, holding a slim folder in one hand.

THE SEARCH BEGINS We hired a private investigator. The irony wasn't lost on me. Dominic investigating someone, looking for someone, using exactly the methods his father had used. "This is different," he said when I pointed it out. "How?" "Because we're not trying to control him. We're trying to reunite a family that never should have been split apart." Maybe. Or maybe we were about to ruin someone's life by telling them everything they knew was a lie. The investigator's name was Rachel Torres. Mid-forties. Sharp eyes. The kind of person who'd seen everything and wasn't impressed by anything.

The investigator was a grizzled old man named Jack, a former cop with a nose for the truth. “What do you need boss?” He had always called me boss, probably out of fear, or maybe he respected me. I never knew, and I didn't care to ask. “I need you to find someone for me.” “How many days?” He asked. I had always given him a certain amount of time to do a job, and if he didn't do it right, he knew the consequences. “Three days. I need you to find out everything about her, even her great grandparents, anything.”

The nurses looked at me with pity, but no one knew what to say. I didn’t want their pity. I wanted answers. I wanted justice. One evening, as I sat in my office, my phone buzzed. It was the investigator. “I’ve found something,” he said. My heart skipped a beat. “What is it?” “There’s a lead on one of the men,” he continued. “A name. But it’s not enough to go to the police yet. I need more time to gather evidence.” I clenched my fist, anger surging through me. “How long?”

“Do you understand what it means to be thorough? To find leverage? To dig where people don’t want you to?” He nodded once. “I understand. I just—” “Just what?” she interrupted. “Just tell me. You’ve got nothing? You followed her for days, and you couldn’t find a single mistake, a single secret, a single thing to use against her?” The investigator exhaled softly. “I haven’t found anything significant. Chelle is very careful. She doesn’t leave patterns.” Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “Very careful, huh? That’s rich.” She slammed her hand onto the table, making him flinch. “You call this work? You call this information?”

The investigator scoffed as his eyes filled with disgust toward me, “If you are waiting for your Father, then forget about it, he won’t come, he won’t be able to save you, matter of fact, he is going through his own investigation.” “What?” I was waiting for Father to make a move since all my business partners had turned their backs on me, but what was this man spewing, “What investigation?” The investigator turned on his phone and passed it to me. I rolled my eyes as I took it but my heart dropped immediately when I saw the world was drilling Father.

Deep lines, wrinkles, creases that hadn't been there minutes ago. "No... this can't be happening!" She staggered back, ready to bolt—then stopped cold. Every camera was locked on her. Teeth clenched, she forced a smile. "That doesn't matter. What matters is solving the case!" She tried to rally. "The most distinct trait of the killer is his hands—" But before she could land the point, a reporter pushed through the crowd. "Breaking news! The Carmoria State Bureau of Investigation just caught the real killer!"

"I'm telling you anyway because that's what I do." There were three investigators at the table. A lead, a secondary, and someone from a connected agency whose jurisdiction I understood imprecisely but whose presence Sadie had told me indicated the investigation had crossed into territory larger than the initial PAC examination. The lead was a woman named Ferrara. She had the specific manner of a federal investigator who has conducted hundreds of these sessions and has concluded that the most effective approach is thorough preparation and complete absence of drama. She shook my hand. She offered water. She explained the process.

“Are you being serious right now? You called me here, and you got nothing?!” The investigator nodded grimly. “I—I can’t find a single clue that would lead Grayson to being Kathryn Alvarez’s son—” Before he could even finish what he was about to say, I had a vase thrown his way. “USELESS. Extremely useless! Get him out of here!” Several men came inside and dragged the investigator out of the room. I stood up harshly on my seat and went over to the window, biting my nail as I watched the moon’s light glow down on me.