A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trus Reagan Keeter (most difficult books to read TXT) 📖

Liam Parker

Bash left Liam worried and confused. The detective had all but outright accused him of murder. As if that weren’t enough, his visit had also raised questions Liam couldn’t answer. They swirled around in his head at an ever-faster rate. Why had Elise told him her last name was Whitman? And what had happened to his text messages? Had she deleted them or had the killer? He couldn’t imagine she would have deleted them, but he couldn’t imagine the killer would have either.

None of it made any sense.

The only thing he could say for sure was that he needed to hire a lawyer.

He called the man who’d handled his divorce for a reference. After a brief exchange in which Liam summarized the situation, the lawyer gave him the name Patricia Harrison.

“She’s a partner at Flores and Washington. Probably the best criminal attorney I know. She’ll be able to help you. Hold on. Let me get you the number.”

“No need,” Liam said. He was already at his computer, typing the firm’s name into Google. A link for the Flores and Washington website came up right away. He ended the call with a “Thanks” and dialed the number at the top of the site.

A perky-sounding receptionist greeted him almost immediately. “Good morning, Flores and Washington. How may I help you?”

“I need to schedule an appointment with Patricia Harrison as soon as possible.”

“Are you an existing client?”

When Liam said he wasn’t, the receptionist sighed, mumbled, and began clacking away at her keyboard. A moment later she said, “Patricia has a small window open in thirty minutes. There is nothing else this week. She isn’t accepting a lot of new clients.”

Liam made the appointment and returned to the conference room. Through the fogged glass, he could see the shadows of the men and women inside, quietly tending to their own affairs, occupied with their phones and laptops. “I’m sorry,” he said as he opened the door, “but something urgent has come up.” He looked at David. “Carry on without me.” Without waiting for a response, Liam headed straight to the elevator and, from there, to the garage.

Flores and Washington was located in the Loop, less than three miles from ConnectPlus. Patricia showed Liam into her office, directing him to a small collection of button tufted chairs positioned around a glass coffee table in the corner. Her office was located along an interior wall and had no windows. A large framed photo of the ocean hung behind her desk.

“It’s more comfortable,” Patricia said, as she glided to a seat. She had mousy features, but a large frame, and that large frame made the grace with which she moved all the more unexpected.

“So, why are you here?” she said, all business. Liam liked that.

“My girlfriend was murdered. I think the police think I did it,” he said, also getting straight to the point.

“Did you?”

“Of course not.”

The coffee table was bare save a pen and a yellow legal pad. Patricia picked them up. “Tell me what happened.”

Liam started by repeating the same story he’d told David. He found his girlfriend dead in the bathtub. He tried to get her out. He grabbed her phone to call the police, but it was locked, so he ran out to his car to get his. In the lobby, he encountered a resident who must’ve been shocked by all the blood—yes, he got the blood on him when he tried to get his girlfriend out of the tub—because she started screaming. The police came right away and designated the apartment a crime scene. Liam thought Elise had killed herself, but she hadn’t; someone had just tried to make it look that way. Then, about an hour ago, Detective Wyatt came by his office with a whole bunch of questions. Why didn’t Liam use the emergency button on the lock screen of Elise’s phone? Why did he say her last name was Whitman when it was Watson? Why did he delete his text messages? No, he hadn’t deleted the messages—like he said, he couldn’t get into her phone. Clearly, the detective didn’t believe him.

Patricia scribbled furiously as he talked. When Liam was done, she was looking down at her notes and tapping the end of her pen against her chin.

After ten, maybe fifteen, seconds, Liam asked, “Don’t you think it’s strange that she told me her last name was Whitman when it’s Watson?”

Patricia shrugged. “Not necessarily. Maybe she was married for a while and planned to start using her maiden name again or—”

“Elise wasn’t married.” Liam was sure about that. Bash would’ve known if Whitman was her maiden name and, if it was, there would have been no reason to ask the question he’d asked.

Patricia put her notepad and pen on the coffee table. “Okay, well, sometimes people change their name when they’re looking for a fresh start. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. These days, it’s about the only way to outrun your digital footprint.”

Liam shook his head, doubtful. “I don’t know.”

“Let me guess. You don’t think she needed one.”

“Honestly, no. Not based on what she told me.”

“If that’s why she did it, then that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Change her name. Change her past. A fresh start.”

Liam unconsciously started tapping his heel against the carpet. “Let’s say you’re right. Why wouldn’t she change her name legally?”

“Maybe she hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Or maybe she couldn’t. If she’s got a record, it can be difficult.”

“She doesn’t have a record.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Actually, he wasn’t. He had one, albeit the bar fight was the only thing on it. Maybe Elise had one as well.

When Liam didn’t answer, Patricia added, “Look, regardless of her reason, one thing you’re going to have to face is that there was something Elise didn’t want you to find out about.”

Liam’s foot slowed to a stop. A fresh start. Was it possible? Could the “bad people” Elise worried about have been specific people instead of criminals in general?