Chapter 21

I fidgeted with the hem of my sleeve as Callie and I sat in the cramped office of the so-called private investigator. The walls were lined with framed certifications, which on closer inspection, turned out to be participation ribbons from elementary school science fairs. I shot Callie a skeptical look, but she was too engrossed in her phone, probably researching the latest indie book releases.

The door creaked open, and in walked the most awkward specimen of a human being I’d ever laid eyes on. He was tall and lanky, with an ill-fitting suit that looked like it had been borrowed from his father’s closet. His tie was askew, and his glasses seemed to be held together by sheer willpower and a prayer.

“Hello, ladies,” he said, his voice cracking like a teenager’s. “I’m Detective… uh, Detective Doe. John Doe.”

Callie snorted, trying to stifle her laughter, while I gave her a sharp elbow to the ribs. “Nice to meet you, Detective Doe,” I said, extending a hand, which he shook with a grip so limp it could’ve been mistaken for a soggy noodle.

As he tripped over a precarious stack of papers, they erupted into the air around him, fluttering like a covey of disturbed doves. “Whoops-a-daisy,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing a shade of crimson that clashed with his already ruddy complexion. I watched, amused and slightly concerned, as he fumbled to gather the escaped sheets, his long limbs seeming to work against him rather than in unison. It was a spectacle of chaos, much like a toddler’s first attempt at cleaning their room—endearing, yet ultimately futile.

I exchanged a glance with Callie, who mouthed, “We can do better.” Her eyes dancing with a mix of amusement and disbelief. I nodded, the corner of my mouth twitching into a reluctant smile. This guy was a walking, talking cliché, but there was something endearing about his earnestness.

“Detective Doe,” I began once he sat down at his desk, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. “Why should we choose you over any other private investigator out there?”

He blinked at me, owlishly, from behind his precariously perched glasses. “Well, Miss Lappa,” he said, righting himself and attempting to smooth out his rumpled suit. “I’m half the price of any PI around, and I’ll only charge you if I find your guy.”

The room fell silent for a moment as his words sank in. I did the mental math, calculating the potential savings versus the risk of hiring someone so… inexperienced. “Fuck, he’s right,” I thought, the frugal part of my brain doing a little victory dance.

“Alright, Detective Doe,” I said, extending my hand once more. “You’ve got yourself a case.”

His eyes lit up, and the transformation was almost comical. Gone was the bumbling detective, replaced by a man with a newfound sense of purpose. He rummaged through a drawer, producing a contract that looked like it had been drafted in the Stone Age.

“Here we are, Miss Lappa,” he said, handing me the pen with a flourish. “Just sign on the dotted line, and we’ll get started right away.”

As I scrawled my signature at the bottom of the page, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of hope. Maybe this goofy, under-qualified PI was exactly what we needed to find Haides. Or maybe we were about to embark on the most ridiculous wild goose chase of our lives. Either way, it was bound to be an adventure.

The contract now bore my signature, a tangible commitment to this wild endeavor. Detective Doe—if that was even his real name—beamed at me, his relief palpable. I couldn’t blame him; I’d have bet on the other guys too. But something told me there was more to this detective than met the eye. Or maybe I just needed to believe that.

“Fantastic, Miss Lappa,” he said, his voice now steady and confident. “I’ll start on your case immediately. I’ll need all the information you have on Haides, of course.”

I nodded, pulling out a folder from my bag. It was filled with printouts of my manuscript, social media interactions, and everything else I could find that related to Haides. “This is everything I have on him,” I said, handing over the dossier. “It’s… unconventional, to say the least.”

Detective Doe flipped through the pages, his eyes widening as he took in the details of my dark romance novel and the strange reality that had begun to mirror it. “I’ve seen a lot in my line of work,” he murmured, “but this… this is a first.”

Callie finally looked up from her phone, her curiosity piqued. “So, Detective, what’s the plan?” she asked, leaning forward with an expectant look on her face.

He closed the folder and met my gaze, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. “First, we’ll cross-reference your information with missing persons reports, social media activity, and any other data points we can find,” he explained. “We’ll also conduct interviews with anyone who might have interacted with Haides in real life.”

I swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “And what about the… other side of Haides?” I asked tentatively, referring to his alter ego, The Lord of Pain.

Detective Doe’s expression hardened, a hint of the professional investigator peeking through his awkward exterior. “I have… contacts that may be able to help,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “We’ll see what they can dig up about his other activities.”

The room fell silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I broke the silence, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just find him, Detective Doe. That’s all I ask.”

He nodded, his eyes reflecting a determination that gave me a sliver of hope. “I’ll do my best, Miss Lappa,” he said, standing up and extending his hand. “I promise.”

I shook his hand, the warmth of his grip a small comfort in the face of the unknown. As Callie and I left his office, I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of fear and excitement. The hunt for Haides was on, and there was no turning back now.