Chapter Eleven
The morning after the stakeout, we sat in Ethan's apartment, pouring over the details we had gathered. The photo of the license plate was displayed on his laptop screen, and he was typing furiously, searching for any leads.
"Do you know someone who can help us trace this?" I asked, leaning over his shoulder.
He nodded, his jaw tight with focus. "A friend of mine from college works in private security. He owes me a favor. If anyone can pull information on this car, it's him."
I watched as he fired off an email, attaching the photo of the plate.
"And how long will this take?" I asked, my nerves making my voice sharper than I intended.
"Depends," Ethan said, leaning back in his chair. "But if the car's registered to someone, we'll know soon enough."
I paced the room, my mind spinning. The thought of someone lurking in the shadows, digging into my past, made my skin crawl.
"What if it's him?" I said, stopping mid-step.
"Him?" Ethan asked, his brows furrowing.
"The guy from the party," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "What if he didn't…" I trailed off, unable to say the words.
Ethan stood and crossed the room, placing his hands on my shoulders. "You said he fell, Aria. You didn't hurt him. And if he's alive, that's something we can deal with."
I nodded, but the knot in my stomach refused to loosen.
---
A few hours later, Ethan's phone buzzed. He grabbed it quickly, glancing at the screen.
"It's my friend," he said, putting the call on speaker.
"Ethan," a voice said on the other end. "I ran the plate. It's registered to a private investigator based in the city."
"A PI?" I repeated, my heart sinking.
"Yeah," the friend continued. "Name's Richard Cole. He's got a decent reputation—takes on a lot of personal cases. Whatever he's looking into, it's probably big if he's been sitting outside someone's house at night."
"Do you have contact information for him?" Ethan asked.
"I do," his friend said. "I'll send it to you. But be careful, Ethan. If this guy's good, he'll know someone's digging into him."
"Thanks, man," Ethan said, ending the call.
I stared at him, a mix of relief and dread swirling in my chest. "A PI? What does that even mean?"
"It means someone hired him," Ethan said. "And we need to figure out who and why."
---
Later that afternoon, we sat in a quiet café, the tension between us palpable as Ethan dialed the number his friend had sent over. He put the phone on speaker, and after a few rings, a deep, gruff voice answered.
"Richard Cole."
"Mr. Cole," Ethan said, his voice steady. "My name is Ethan, and I'm hoping you can help me. I'm looking into a case that I believe you might be connected to."
There was a pause on the other end. "And why would I discuss my work with a stranger?"
"Because your work involves someone I care about," Ethan said, glancing at me. "And I'd like to know why you're investigating her."
Another pause, longer this time. When Cole spoke again, his tone was sharper. "I don't discuss my clients or my cases. If your friend has concerns, she's welcome to contact me directly."
"She's sitting right here," Ethan said, his voice hardening. "And she deserves to know why you've been parked outside her friend's building."
The line went silent for a moment, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.
Finally, Cole spoke. "I was hired to look into an incident that happened several years ago. My client believes your friend has information they need."
"What kind of information?" I demanded, unable to keep quiet any longer.
"I can't say," Cole replied. "But if you'd like to discuss this further, we can meet in person. Otherwise, I suggest you stop calling."
"Fine," Ethan said. "When and where?"
Cole hesitated, then gave an address. "Tomorrow afternoon. One o'clock. And come alone."
The line went dead.
---
As we left the café, Ethan slipped his hand into mine, his grip firm.
"We'll go together," he said, his tone brooking no argument.
"Cole said to come alone," I reminded him.
"I don't care," Ethan said, his jaw tightening. "I'm not letting you face this guy by yourself."
A part of me wanted to argue, to prove I could handle this on my own. But the truth was, I didn't want to do it alone.
"Okay," I said quietly. "We'll go together."
Whatever awaited us tomorrow, we'd face it as a team.
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