Read Online Hard Truth by Mariah Stewart - Free Book Online

while Regan found a pen, then gave her the number.
    “Great. Let me see if I can get in touch with Mitch. I’ll call you back.”
    “Regan, I really appreciate this. Thanks so much.”
    “Don’t thank me yet. Talk to you later.”
    Lorna hung up and slid Regan’s card into her wallet, which was, she decided, a better place to keep it. It was a miracle she hadn’t lost it, a miracle that she had stuck her Day-Timer in the car. She still wasn’t sure why she had, or when, for that matter.
    Serendipity, her mother would have said.
    She pulled the elastic band from her hair and then swept it up into a ponytail again, securing the loose ends tightly to keep them off her neck. It was another hot day. The ancient window air conditioner she’d found in the attic barely worked, but it cooled enough so that she could sit in the dining room and work. And for now, that was all she needed. She poured herself a cold drink, set it on the table next to her laptop, and went to work on a billing statement. She was midway through it when the phone rang.
    “Lorna, Regan. Listen, Mitch has a friend who might be able to help you. He’s a PI—Mitch knows he’s licensed in Maryland, he’s not sure about Pennsylvania, though. The PI’s a former FBI agent who went out on his own a few years back, formed his own agency. Anyway, Mitch thinks he’s still in business. I took the liberty of giving Mitch your name and phone number, I hope that’s okay. If Mitch can get in touch with his friend, he’ll ask him to contact you. So if some strange man calls, just ask him if he’s a friend of Mitch Peyton.”
    “What’s his name? The investigator.”
    “Oh, it’s Dawson. T. J. Dawson. Let me know if he calls, okay, so I can tell Mitch?”
    “Will do. Regan, I can’t thank you enough.”
    “Thank me after you find the information that you need,” Regan said. “Thank me after you’ve proven that this woman did not kill her son.”

S ix
    “Lorna Stiles?”
    “Yes?” Lorna was out of breath from running to answer the phone before her mother’s old message came on the answering machine. She made a mental note to change it.
    “T. J. Dawson. Mitch Peyton asked me to call.”
    “Who?” She frowned, then remembered yesterday’s conversation with Regan. “Oh. Regan Landry’s friend.”
    “Friend of a friend, right. I thought you were expecting my call.”
    “Regan said she’d ask her friend—your friend Mitch—to speak with you, but I didn’t expect to hear from you this quickly. I appreciate you calling so soon.”
    “Mitch said it was important.”
    “Well, where would you like me to start?” Lorna tried to stretch the phone cord into the dining room, where she’d left her handbag. She wanted to write down his name and phone number but couldn’t quite reach the pen and paper. She started opening and closing the kitchen drawers, hoping to get lucky.
    “You have a friend who’s been arrested on murder charges?”
    “Yes. I believe she’s innocent, but the police—”
    “What were the charges?’
    “That she killed her son.”
    “I mean, first degree, second . . . manslaughter . . .”
    “Oh. I don’t know.” She felt her cheeks twinge with color. How could she not know? “I didn’t think to ask. I should have.”
    “I can find that out.”
    “When do you think you can start working on this?”
    “In about three hours.”
    “What?”
    “I’m on my way from southern New Jersey to Baltimore. I’ll be driving along Interstate 95. Mitch said you’re in southern Pennsylvania.”
    “Right. I’m about thirty-five minutes off of I-95, actually.”
    “Would it be all right if I swung by on my way through the area? I can get all the information from you, we can talk about the case, my fee, see how much time you want to invest in this.”
    “Fine.” She gave him directions from the highway, then hung up, and gulped. How much did private investigators charge? She had no idea, but figured them to be fairly