CHAPTER ONE
The water reached my waist. Pearl’s eyes looked up at me. Her face was just below the surface. I couldn’t have helped her if I wanted. My hands were tied over my head and I hung from the ceiling of the sailboat’s cabin.
Plop. The blood dripped from my nose into the water. Where was Kaminsky when I needed him, I thought. I went through my mental notes about the case. How could I have been so wrong about people? I had broken my own rule: trust no one.
I stood in the shadow of a shed to observe the fishing boat moored at the end of the dock. The wannabe rapper record producer Armani Mosely, with his clean-shaven
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