Custom Love by Chantal Fernando
Chapter One
One Year LaterNadia
“He didn’t do it, Nadia. You know him. I know him. Come on, you have to believe me,” Marisol says, big brown eyes pleading with me.
I grew up with her son, Damon, and it’s true, he’s the last person I’d ever think would murder someone. He had always been the gentle sort, and he was always kind to everyone around him. People change, though.
“Money isn’t an issue,” she continues, lower lip trembling. It’s hard for me to see her like this. Marisol was one of my mom’s closest friends, and she was always there for me growing up. When I lost my mom, she stepped in and made sure she came to all of my school events, like my basketball games. For the finals one year, she even made her own sign with my name on it, lifting it up and cheering me on as I scored the winning point. She was basically like the aunt I never had, and most of my childhood memories include her. Seeing her sitting here now, I realize that I’ve let too much time go by without seeing her.
“I just want you to look into it and see what you can find. I know he didn’t do it. And you have nothing to lose. I’ll pay you and if you don’t find any proof that he’s innocent, then so be it. But I know you will.”
“Why now? Why didn’t you come to me earlier, before he was convicted?” I ask the question, but no matter what the answer is, I’m glad she didn’t. There would have been too many issues if I had been involved during the height of the investigation.
I sigh and scrub my hands down my face, probably smudging the liner around my brown eyes. Surprisingly, my hesitance to take on this case has nothing to do with money. Sure, for a while my business was struggling. I had to let go of my employee and closest friend, Bronte, because I could no longer afford to pay her. But it has started to pick up again after I helped an attorney exonerate a murder suspect even though all evidence pointed to his guilt. More and more clients have been engaging my services—from people trying to catch their spouses having an affair, to businesses trying to see if their employees are leaving for their competitors, to defense lawyers looking for help with their murder investigations—with word of mouth spreading.
Despite things improving in the business, I still am just one person and can only take a few cases at a time, so it is a slow improvement. But no matter how much I could use the money, I wouldn’t even charge Marisol. I wouldn’t feel comfortable taking her money. There’s a whole other reason I don’t want to take this on, and it’s much more complicated than she may think.
“I don’t know. I thought it’d be obvious he didn’t do it. I didn’t think they’d find him guilty.” She wipes a tear from her face. She looks like she’s aged at least ten years since I last saw her, before Damon was arrested.
“Marisol, I knew Ariel, and her whole family, too. They are my friends. Can you imagine what kind of position that’s going to put me in?” I ask, closing my eyes and exhaling.
After my father died five years ago, I retreated into work and lost touch with Marisol. My best friend, Bronte, is pretty much my only family now, and as a result her family became my family. After she left my private investigation firm, she started working at Fast & Fury Custom Motorcycles, which is owned by a local motorcycle club, the Knights of Fury. She ended up falling in love with her boss, Crow, who is a member. The minute she became his old lady, she had an instant family in the MC. Luckily she didn’t leave me behind and pretty much forced me into the MC fold.
I met Ariel a few years ago and we bonded instantly since we were outsiders to the MC. Included, but not exactly part of the inner circle. Neither of us knew what was going on with the MC all the time, but we knew we could count on them. Ariel was the partner of Trade, who is the president of the MC’s younger brother, but not an official member anymore. In addition, her younger sister, Izzy, is married to Renny, another MC member. So we would hang out when the other women from the MC were doing MC-only things. I wouldn’t say we were best friends, but we were definitely more than acquaintances.
She was found a day or two after going missing, in her car at the bottom of the lake right near Damon’s house. I still remember the moment I heard about it—the shock and pain of her body being found, and the surprise that Damon was being tied to it. She had a young daughter, Mila, who is five years old now. As someone who grew up without a mother, I know that little girl is going to have a tough time, especially given how Ariel died.
When it was revealed she was murdered, it hit me hard. She was loved by everyone, and losing her brought so much pain for them all.
I know Marisol doesn’t realize what she’s asking of me—she’s just a desperate mother begging for help. Of course she would reach out to me. It’s just such a hard position for me to be put into.
After the investigation, Damon was picked up, interrogated, arrested and tried all in a span of six months. He was found guilty of second-degree murder and is doing a minimum of twenty-five years. I’m ashamed to admit I avoided the case because I was embarrassed that I knew him and his family. To be honest, I think I distanced myself from the whole thing because I knew both of them. It hurt to hear about what happened to Ariel that night, and the fact that a guy who grew up like a cousin to me could have been behind it.
This is actually the first time I’ve talked about Damon’s arrest with Marisol. My feelings are all over the place about it, but people do change. It’s not like I had spent much time with him over the past few years.
“How does finding her real killer put you in a bad position?” she asks, lifting her chin, her stubborn brown eyes begging to be heard. “It’s justice. Wouldn’t they want the real person who did this behind bars? I’m telling you, it wasn’t Damon. And I’d bet my life on that.”
I lean back in my worn leather chair and study her. She looks one hundred percent sure that her son did not commit this crime. Marisol has always had an eerie ability to suss out whether someone is lying or not. I was caught in too many lies by her when I was younger. As much as I want to write off her confidence as a mother trying to protect her son, there is something in the back of my mind asking if she’s right.
“If the roles were reversed, Damon or myself would do this for you,” she adds, and I sigh, because she’s right on that account. They are that kind of people. “I was with my son that night, from six to ten o’clock. I was with him! How could he have done this?”
“They didn’t just find him guilty over nothing,” I say. “There had to be evidence to put him away, Marisol.”
“They pinned it on him because it was easy,” she fires back, scowling. “They did not have enough evidence to prove he did this. They locked him up anyway, because of reasonable doubt. Did you look into the case when it had gone to trial?”
“I didn’t look into all the details properly, no,” I admit. “I know what everyone else knows.” What I heard from others, and what I saw on the news.
“Well, see, I’m just asking that you look into it. That’s all,” she says, eyes pleading with mine. “Go over the details and see for yourself what I’m trying to tell you.” When I don’t say anything right away, she grabs my hand. “Nadia, I swear to you, Damon had nothing to do with this. I just know it.”
I consider her words. Yes, me looking into this would ruffle a few feathers; in fact, I can’t imagine how upset it would make Trade, who is probably trying to move on and find some peace after losing his love. But the MC doesn’t have to know what I’m doing. Like Marisol said, it’s just a little bit of research to see if all the dots connect.
IfI find something, then I will share it with them.
What can it hurt? If she’s right, then I can help Damon. And if she’s wrong and this is just a case of blind love?
Well, I tried.
I don’t know what to believe anymore, but there’s something in her eyes that I can’t say no to. It wouldn’t hurt to look into this, for Marisol.
“Okay,” I say, sighing. “I’ll see what I can do. But you have to promise me complete honesty. If I ask you something, regardless of what the answer may be, you have to answer me truthfully. Do I have your word?”
“Yes, absolutely, Nadia. I would never lie to you.”
I can’t believe I’m about to do this. “I can’t make any promises, though, okay? And if I don’t find anything—”
“Then I’ll drop it.” She nods eagerly, tears forming in her eyes. “I just need you to take this chance, Nadia. Thank you so much for helping me. No one else will listen. They all just think because he was found guilty, he did it. But innocent people are found guilty all the time. No one wants to consider the option that a mistake was made against my son.”
I mean, she’s not wrong. Mistakes are made in the justice system.
The problem lies with everyone thinking their loved ones are innocent.
I pull out my notebook. “All right, let’s do it then. Tell me everything in detail. I want to know why you don’t think your son did this.”
She starts speaking, and I start making some notes.
I just hope I don’t regret this.
Stepping into the Fast & Fury Custom Motorcycles shop, I ask myself not for the first time if I’m making the right choice. The last thing that I want to do is bring more pain to the people I care about, and one of the people I love most is right under this roof.
“Nadia?” the woman in question calls out as she sees me, a big smile on her face. “I didn’t know you were dropping in today!”
Bronte gives me a big, warm hug, her floral-scented perfume hitting my nose. I know I said I was going to keep this whole investigation on the down low, but there’s no way I can’t tell my best friend about what I’m up to.
“It was spontaneous,” I admit, looking around for Trade. “Can we have a quick chat?”
“Of course,” she replies, brows drawing together as she looks me over. “Is everything okay?”
I nod, and walk with her outside to my car. “So I have something to tell you. I have a new client, and she wants me to look into Ariel’s murder.”
Bronte’s eyes widen in surprise. “The case is closed, though. And someone is behind bars for doing it.”
“I know.” I wince, shifting on my feet. “But his mom is one hundred percent sure he didn’t do it and that he has been framed, and you know I told you they were family friends of mine.”
She nods. “I remember you saying that. Shit, Nadia. This isn’t going to go over well.”
“I know. But if the right man is locked up, then there’s nothing to lose, right? It’s just me double-checking the facts and the work the police have already done.”
She looks unsure, and I feel the same way.
“I don’t want anyone to know about this, but I couldn’t not tell you,” I explain, reaching out and touching her shoulder. “I need you to be okay with it, though.”
“This would upset Trade,” she admits in a low tone. “He’s trying to move on.”
“I know. He doesn’t have to know...unless I do find something, of course.”
Bronte tilts her head and studies me. “She’s sure there’s something more to this whole thing?”
“She’s his mother.” I shrug. “I don’t know if there’s any truth to her claim, but she swears he was with her that night, during that time. She seems sure he’s innocent.”
“Mother’s love?”
“Or the truth,” I say. “We won’t know unless I look into it. And no one has to know or get hurt in the process. I might find nothing.”
Or I might find everything.
She nods. “Yeah, all right. You do what you have to. I have no idea how this is going to play out, but I’m here if you need me.”
And that right there is why this woman is my best friend. “I love you.”
“You too.”
Trade chooses that moment to pull up next to us in his black truck. He winds down his window and smiles when he sees the two of us. “Working hard, Bronte?”
“Always,” she replies, clearing her throat.
“Hey, Nadia, I haven’t seen you in a while. How’s it going?” He gets out of the truck, and not for the first time I’m reminded just how good looking he is. He’s tall, broad shouldered, built perfectly with muscles in all the right places, and has warm brown eyes. His brown hair is always tied back with a leather band, showing off his structured jawline and stubbled cheeks.
“Good, good. Same old, just working.” I pause and glance at Bronte. “Anyway, I better head to work,” I say, waving to the two of them and getting in my car.
“I’ll call you tonight,” Bronte yells out, and it sounds more like a warning than anything.
“What are you getting yourself into, Nadia?” I ask myself, pulling out of their car park and heading to my own office.
Marisol swears Damon was home with her the night Ariel went missing. I know that most mothers would lie for their children without thinking, and giving a false alibi for her kid wouldn’t be a stretch, but there was something in her eyes that made it hard for me to say no to her.
That desperation.
I can do this for her, as a favor.
Maybe I’m just a sucker for a sob story.
Either way, I’m doing this, and there’s no going back now.