Page 2 of Little Hidden Fears

She heard gasps and cries of surprise from the guests downstairs as they bumped around, trying to find their way in the dark. Noelle thought she’d considered every possible scenario for tonight, but losing power had been the furthest thing from her mind.

Thoughts swirling, she searched for a solution ... and then, clarity came. Each of the skinny, high-top tables she’d rented for the evening had been decorated with a candle in its center. All she needed was to grab the mini flashlight out of her desk drawer, locate the matches in the kitchen, and light the candles.

She stood and reached out, using her hands to feel her way along the wall toward her office. The moment she stepped inside, a strange sensation gripped her, like someone’s hands around her neck. And then came the squeeze, a crushing pain unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

Noelle wrestled for breath, but breath didn’t come, and as she struggled to maintain consciousness, every little hidden fear she’d ever had came collapsing down around her.

CHAPTER 2

TWO WEEKS LATER

I was sitting at my desk at the detective agency, waiting for my next appointment to walk through the door. The woman was late. Seventeen minutes late, to be precise, and given I was a stickler for timeliness, I had a notion to cancel the meeting altogether.

Another eight minutes ticked by, and I decided to do just that.

Then the front door opened.

A disheveled woman with long, auburn hair, the likes of which looked like it had been through a windstorm walked in. Her boho attire included a pair of colorful striped leggings, a light blue, floral print, V-neck blouse, and brown, suede booties.

She grabbed a ponytail holder off her wrist, pulling her hair back into a loose bun.

“Are you Zoey Morgan?” I asked.

“I am.”

“You’re twenty-five minutes late,” I said.

She looked at me, blowing out a burst of air, and shrugged. “I am so sorry. I could have sworn I set my alarm last night, but this morning, it didn’t go off. I hope you’re not too upset with me.”

I was, but saying as much wouldn’t change a thing.

“Take a seat,” I said.

“Oh, yes, thank you.”

As she lowered herself into the chair, she reached into her oversized handbag, fumbling around for something. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she began removing various items, piling them on my desk like it was a storage facility.

“Just a second,” she said.

Several seconds later, she pulled out a plastic baggie containing a handful of photos, and she handed it to me.

I glanced inside the baggie. “What are these?”

“Pictures taken the night my best friend was murdered,” she said. “Thought they might be useful.”

“Useful how? I’m not sure why you asked to meet with me.”

“Oh, isn’t it obvious? I’d like to hire you to investigate a murder.”

I nodded, opening my desk drawer and removing a notebook and a pen. “Why don’t we start at the beginning?”

Zoey took a deep breath in. “A couple of weeks ago, Noelle threw an engagement party for me at her house. As the night wound down, and only a handful of us remained, we decided to have a toast. Noelle went upstairs to get more bottles of champagne, and not long after, the electricity—and all the lights and music—went out.”

“For how long?”

“Five minutes, I guess. When all the lights came back on, Dominic screamed.”

“Who’s Dominic?”

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