Family Connections

Ben

David Thomas arrived at my office in New York fifteen minutes earlier than we had agreed. Amy, my Personal Assistant, showed him into my office. He looked casual and out of place in my sleek, organized building. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with an old blazer over it and shoes that looked like they came from a thrift store.

It was a part of his disguise, I had learned. David did everything he could to be non-descript. It was the best way to get all the information he needed as a Private Investigator.

“Have you found anything yet?” I asked.

“I have,” David said.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

David was helping me investigate the death of both business partners that had owned the company before me. My dad and his partner, Uncle Dean, had died seven years apart, but the plane crashes had been so eerily similar that a murder investigation had been opened. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust the police, but I had wanted to get involved in some way. So I had hired David to