Page 167 of His Good Girl

“I need information.”

“No, you need therapy. But information is easier to invoice.”

“Benjamin sent you the summary?”

“He sent me the appetizer. I assume you providing me with the entrée, dessert, and a tasteful little glass of panic.”

I looked down at Grant Vale’s card on my desk. I had placed it there earlier like an enemy I could keep contained by refusing tothrow it away. “A man named Grant Vale came to my office. He’s from Meridian Strategic Risk. He came with illegal surveillance and the threat of extortion if I didn’t drop the Hartwell contract.”

“Names I like. Crimes I like less. Who’s the woman?”

My hand tightened on the phone. “Avery Hale.”

“Yours?”

“Yes.”

There was another pause, and when Ryan spoke again, the laughter had gone entirely. “Then send me everything you have.”

“I need a private investigator, Ryan, not a hacker.”

“Private investigators sit in cars taking pictures of men leaving motels. I don’t take photos, darling. I download them.”

“No.”

“I’m joking.”

“Are you?”

“Mostly. Relax. I’m a digital forensics consultant. I find what people were stupid enough to leave behind. I do not create new felonies unless deeply provoked and personally bored.”

“Ryan.”

“Give me names, vendors, domains, invoices, photos, file names, timestamps, and any phrase that sounded like a person trying too hard not to say blackmail.”

“You’ll have it in ten minutes.”

“Good. And Callum?”

“What?”

“If someone put intimate material of your girl on a table and asked you to trade a civic contract for silence, this is not a photography problem. It is a pipeline problem. Find the pipe, and you find the hand that turned the valve.”

For once, I had nothing to say.

Ryan exhaled softly. “There. I was profound. That costs extra.”

Then he hung up.

An hour later, Benjamin arrived at my house at three-thirty with coffee, two laptops, and a garment bag over one shoulder because he apparently planned to change for work in my guest suite. By four, we had sent Ryan everything we could send.

By six, Ryan sent back his first message.

Ryan:I’ve got a couple names. Also, your enemies are both dramatic and cheap, which is my least favorite combination.

Benjamin read the message over my shoulder. “Cheap is promising.”

“Why?”