Read Online The Truth Collector by Corey Pemberton - Free Book Online

like every other office we saw. How are we supposed to find him?”
    Malcolm buried his head in the manila folders strewn across Craig's desk. They looked out of place in such an organized office. But sifting through them only revealed court filings, notes, and deposition transcripts. Paul came over to help and started rummaging through cabinets. Office supplies. Nothing useful. Malcolm turned his attention to a filing cabinet beneath Fielder's desk. All of the drawers were locked except for the top one. He and Paul opened it, went through pens and staples and paper clips…
    Until Paul found something interesting:
    A pay stub.
    “Are you kidding me?” he said, opening it. “Check out how much this guy makes.”
    Malcolm tapped the envelope in Paul's other hand. “Check out that address .”
    Paul flipped it over and looked at it. A home address, and just a few blocks away. “Nice.” He grabbed a sticky note and pen, but Malcolm grabbed him by the wrist.
    “Just remember it. No writing. No pictures – in case things go bad with the cops.”
    Paul nodded, staring at the envelope. “I got it. Now let's get out of here.”
    “Wait.” Malcolm's eyes settled on a dark green coaster on Craig's desk. He removed a mug filled with day-old coffee stains to look at it. “It's from a bar,” he said. “The Black Cat. Really close to here too.”
    Paul came over and looked at the coaster. “That's on the way to his house. I drop people off there in the cab all the time.”
    “Let's go there first,” Malcolm said. “A lawyer works hard all day, goes to the bar for a few drinks, then heads home. Like clockwork, right?”
    “At least in the movies,” said Paul. “We'll find out.”
    On their way out, Rita the janitor asked them if they got everything they needed. They told her they had – at least that wasn't a lie. She said she hadn't seen Craig but she'd only started her shift an hour earlier. They left her with smiles and no names to remember them by. In just a few blocks they joined the throng in front of the Black Cat. People drank on the front patio that spilled out into the street, mixing freely with passers-by under the giant cat sign in the light of a full moon. It looked more like a spring break party than somewhere a respectable lawyer would unwind. Malcolm and Paul shrugged at each other, passed a hulking bouncer, and went inside.
    The setup was familiar enough: pool tables, flying darts, and a horseshoe-shaped bar in the middle with stools and people crowded around. In the middle of the horseshoe stood a svelte blonde in a low-cut black top that defied dress codes far and wide. She tossed a shaker in one hand and filled a draft beer with the other, talking to the regulars at the same time.
    Malcolm pointed at her. “She's the one we need to talk to.” They weaved around staggering drunks on their way over to her. The way these people moved looked too similar to how… those things moved behind Eric and Miranda's house. By the time they made it to the bar every muscle in Malcolm's body was firing. He squeezed between some stools and looked at the bartender.
    She flashed him a flirty smile perfected by years of experience. “What are you having?”
    “We're looking for a guy named Craig Fielder. You know him?”
    These words stopped her beer-pouring, rag-rubbing tornado of movement. They got through to her somehow. She pointed to the end of the bar. “Over there. We can talk easier.”
    Her smile disappeared when they met her there. Her posture turned defensive now – defiant. “What is it about Craig?”
    “We work with him at Henson and Geary,” Malcolm said. “We're trying to get a hold of him about this case we're working on. One of the janitors says Craig likes to come here after work sometimes.”
    The bartender nodded. “He's in here almost every night. Drinks a J and B or two and hardly ever says a word. Nice guy though. But I think that job is killing him.”
    “Was he here tonight?” said