Page 35 of Fang Fatale

“Noted.” I rest a hand on the file box. “But I'm not bringing her in.”

He studies me.

“Not unless she wants to come,” I finish.

Silence settles between us.

Finally, Cassian asks, “Do you want help?”

“No.” I finish the last of my beer. “But if you hear of an opening for a professional dog walker, let me know.”

He barks out a laugh.

“Tell Birdie good luck from me.”

“Why?”

“Because she's going to need it.”

When I get home, I don't bother turning on the lights.

I sit in the dark with a protein shake, the only audience my own shadow and the echo of Birdie's voice.

No one's ever let me have a pet.

Sleep proves optimistic.

Instead, I keep digging.

One court filing becomes another.

A dissolved business partnership.

A quietly settled lawsuit.

Three former associates who all describe Leland differently, yet somehow use the same words.

Demanding.

Impossible.

Always right.

Nothing illegal.

Nothing dramatic.

Just a trail of people who eventually walked away.

The pattern feels familiar.

Everyone leaves eventually.

Birdie just happened to leave before the wedding.

Somewhere in the growing stack of paperwork, I find a note written in Birdie's hand.

Unsigned.