“That’s exactly why I need this,” I say, surprised by the steadiness in my own voice. “I need to know that someone whomattered to me didn’t just give up. And if someone did this to him, I need to know that they won’t just get away with it.”
The silence stretches between us.
“Alright,” he says finally. “But not some stranger with fancy credentials who’s going to take your money and feed you false hope.”
My heart jumps. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ll do it myself.”
I feel a flood of gratitude that’s probably unreasonable. “Jason, you can’t—”
“Why can’t I? I’m semi-retired, not dead. Still got my license, still got connections throughout the department. And more importantly, I knew your father. I liked him. He deserved better than what he got.”
Tears threaten, and I have to swallow hard before I can speak. “You’d really do that?”
“Already decided to, kiddo. Soon as you started asking questions. Been thinking about your father’s case for months now, actually. Something about it never sat right with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the whole investigation was rushed. Sloppy. Your father’s death gets called in, and within hours they’re already talking suicide. No real examination of the scene, no follow-up on his recent activities.” Jason’s voice turns grim. “Hell, they barely interviewed you and your mother. That’s not how we handle suspicious deaths.”
My breath catches. “You think someone influenced the investigation?”
“I think someone wanted that case closed fast and clean. No questions asked, no loose ends to tie up.”
Rage burns through me, hot and clean. “You’re saying the police were bought off?”
“I’m saying there were pressures I didn’t understand at the time. Phone calls from downtown. Orders to wrap things up quickly and move on to other cases.” His voice hardens. “Your father was involved in something before he died, Ilona. Something that may have gotten him killed.”
I close my eyes, feeling tears threaten. “Thank you. God, Jason, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. This kind of thing… when corruption goes that deep, when people with real power want something buried…” His voice trails off. “Are you prepared for what we might find? And are you prepared for the possibility that whoever killed your father might not want us digging around?”
Am I?
“Yes,” I lie before I could second-guess myself. “I need to know the truth.”
“Alright then. We’ll find it. But Ilona?” His voice turns serious again. “I want you to promise me something. If I find anything that suggests you might be in danger— if your father’s enemies are still out there— you’ll let me protect you. No arguments, no heroics. You’ll trust me to keep you safe.”
The promise sits heavy on my tongue. “I promise.”
“Good girl. Now, I need you to send me everything you have— death certificates, police reports, anything your mother might have kept. I’m going to start by reviewing the original case file, see what details got conveniently overlooked.”
After we hang up, I sit in silence, staring at my phone. In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve signed away nine months of my life to a man who might be more dangerous than I can imagine, and now I’m about to use his money to expose some potentially dangerous secrets.
The butterflies in my stomach have definitely turned into ravens now, circling carrion.
But there’s no going back. The contract is signed, the money will transfer, and Jason will start digging into my father’s death.
What the hell have you gotten myself into, Ilona?
Are you ready to find what’s at the end of this?
To be completely honest, I don’t think I am.
But it’s too late to back out now.
Chapter Forty-Two