Page 104 of Line Change

“Hello,” I say quickly, swallowing my food.

“Hello, mate. I’m looking for a Sebastian Henderson. This is Logan Williams, a friend of Eli’s,” a deep voice rumbles with the tiniest bit of Australian accent.

“This is Sebastian.”

“Great. Is now a good time to talk?”

“Now’s fine.” I push my empty plate away.

“Perfect.” Papers shuffle on the other end of the line. “Eli gave me a quick rundown of what’s going on, that you think your father-in-law is trying to blackmail your wife into giving him what he wants. Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to give me more details about this man? His known associates? Why you think this? The more information the better.”

“I’ll do my best. We might have to have a follow up call when my wife is available if you need more information than I can provide.”

“That’s fine. Tell me what you know so I can get started.”

“Alrighty,” I say before launching into the story as best I can. He stops me a few times to ask some clarifying questions. “And there you have it,” I tell him once I get to the end.

He lets out a low whistle. “That’s quite the pickle.”

Understatement of the year.

“Yep.”

I grab my glass of water and take a few sips, waiting to see what else he’s going to say, hoping he has some ideas of how to find proof, because if he doesn’t, I don’t know what we’ll do.

There’s the sound of a keyboard clicking in the background, and then he hums. “Interesting. Okay, I have a couple of leads.”

He’s got a couple of leads already?

“That was fast.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. I’ll need a few days to follow up.”

“No problem. This needs to be discreet, very discreet.” I’m under the impression he knows this and probably is extremely discreet, but I feel better saying it out loud, making sure we’re on the same page. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

“Of course, discreet is my middle name.”

We spend a few more minutes discussing rates and payment, and then he tells me he’ll keep me updated via text message unless it’s something best said over the phone before we hang up.

I grab my dishes and rinse them off in the sink. I hope this works out, that Logan can find something, anything at this point, that will give us some proof that Sutton’s father is behind all of this.

“I hate this team,” Wes grumbles under his breath when I skate over to him during warm-ups the next afternoon before our game against the Fury.

“More than you hate the Mockingbirds?”

He skates in a circle, contemplating my question, before finally saying, “No, but it’s close.”

I snort, shaking my head.

“Alright, guys?” Elias asks as he and Hunter skate over.

“Yep. How are you feeling?” I direct the question at Hunter.

He shrugs, peering over his shoulder at Jacobs who is warming up with his teammates. “We played them earlier in the season, and it wasn’t bad, so I’m hoping we’re worried for nothing.”