– V –



The ring of the doorbell successfully ended my trip down the memory lane which was a good thing because all those memories made my hands shake. They also turned me on to the point that I would probably look obscene if not for my long shirt. I glanced at the clock and marveled at the Domino’s efficiency. They managed to get my order here in less than half an hour? Good God!

I swung the door open without bothering looking into the peephole. And then I just stood there, blinking like someone who is suffering from neurasthenia. It wasn’t a Domino’s guy after all. It was some woman. She looked like she was in her early thirties, her dark hair short and spiky, minimum makeup on her face. She was shaking rain water off her umbrella. She gave me a very quick professional smile.

“Connor Blake?” she asked.

“Who wants to know?” I asked carefully, trying to figure out who the hell she was.

Her hand dove into her pocket and I cursed silently in my head. Son of a bitch, she is a cop!

“My name is Dinah Waters”, she said and pulled out her I.D. “I am with the Private Investigation Department…”

I made sure that a huge wave of relief didn’t reflect on my face. A private dick, not a cop. Thank God…

“Can I ask you a couple of questions?”

“What is this about?” I asked and stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind me.

“May I come in?” she asked with the same professional smile.

“It’s not a good time, I am afraid”, I said with regret.

Her smile faltered just a notch.

“Still feeling under the weather, huh?” she asked sympathetically and I gritted my teeth.

She went to my work place.

“Yes”, I said tightly.

“I am sorry”, she said as sympathetically as several seconds ago but her eyes weren’t sympathetic at all. They were calculating. “I won’t take much of your time…”

“What is this about?” I interrupted her and leaned on the wall, my arms folded in my chest.

“You are not getting inside, sweetheart”, I thought gloomily. “Nobody does unless they have an order signed by the freaking judge.”

“Do you know a person named Dylan Mort?” she asked as if not noticing my hostility.

I almost snorted at that. I knew that she was perfectly aware of the fact that Dylan and I went to the same school.

“Yes”, I nodded calmly. “We went to high school together.”

“Was he your friend?”

“Yes”, I nodded again. “Why?”

“Have you seen him recently?” she completely ignored my question.

“Not to my recollection”, I cocked my head to the right. “Why?”

“When was the last time you saw him?” she flashed another smile at me.

“Eight years ago”, I said calmly. “Once again I am going to ask why?”

“A client of ours is looking for him”, she said indifferently. “I can’t get into the details, I am sorry.”

Bullshit, I thought.