3-The offer
Claire
I woke with a groan. My back ached from the lumpy mattress and my neck felt stiff from the thin pillow. The inn had creaked all night, sighing and groaning like it was alive.
Honestly ,I missed my big, soft bed in Los Angeles, the one that seemed to swallow me up and make the world disappear.
I swung my legs over the side and rubbed my face. Outside the window, the fog was still heavy. But in daylight, the streets looked… strange in a different way.
People still moved quietly with their heads down and their old-fashioned clothes. Hats, long coats and scarves wrapped tight. I shivered despite the sweater I’d thrown on.
I walked into the bathroom.
There was a disgusting smell in the room. The sink had brown stains, and the faucet was covered in marks. And the light above kept flickering and buzzing like an insect in a jar. It was all irritating to me.
I stared into the glass and hardly knew my own face—tired eyes and messy dark hair. I looked like a shadow of who I used to be. What an irony
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I blinked them back. I wasn’t going to let myself be weak here. Not in Grayhaven. I was going to pretend to be happy .
At least I thought that If I pretended,maybe it would stop my mind from wandering back to Daniel, my ex, the one I did not want to think about today—or any day.
I brushed my teeth, splashed cold water on my face, and dressed in jeans, a sweater, and boots. Simple and practical. No makeup. Just get through the day. That had to be enough.
Walking down the hall, I noticed the inn in daylight looked even older. Paint chipped from the walls. The floorboards groaned under every step. It felt alive, in the wrong kind of way, like the building was watching me.
Then I smelled it— Coffee. Toast. Eggs. My stomach growled.
Following the scent, I found the breakfast room.
Only two people were there. Mrs. Ellery, the innkeeper from last night sat stiffly at one end of the table. Her gray bun was perfect, her dark eyes were watching me as if she could read my mind.
Beside her sat an older man, tall but slightly hunched. His white hair stuck out in every direction. His smile was wide, almost too cheerful. He looked like a man who wanted to talk about everything, all the time.
“Ah! You must be Miss Monroe!” he said the second I entered.
I froze. “Yes… that’s me.”
“I’m Mr. Ellery,” he said bowing slightly. “My wife runs this fine inn, and I… well, I try to keep her company. She says I chatter too much, but someone has to make things lively, right?”
I hesitated before sitting down.
“You know, news travels fast in Grayhaven,” he said, leaning closer to me“We already know all about you. Big city detective from Los Angeles, LAPD, now private cases. Oh, people here talk! You’ve made quite a name for yourself, even before arriving. Isn’t that something?”
I blinked. “I… didn’t think anyone knew I was coming.”
“Oh, they know,” he said nodding vigorously. “Everything that happens travels fast. You buy a loaf of bread, and by nightfall, half the town will know about it. Funny little place, this Grayhaven.”
Mrs. Ellery sipped her tea without a word, but her eyes never left me.
I forced a smile. “That’s… reassuring.”
“Reassuring, hmm?” he said with a grin. “Perhaps. But you know, Miss Monroe, a detective like you… you have a look. Eyes that have seen things, a mind that notices. You’ve come here for a reason, haven’t you? Something you won’t say out loud?”
I stiffened. “I… just needed a change.”
“Ah!” he exclaimed. “Change! A fresh start! I can see that. Running from trouble or running to it?”
“I didn’t say I was running,” I muttered.
“No need to,” he said with a chuckle. “Your face says it all. But don’t worry. We won’t gossip too loudly… not in front of you. Grayhaven likes its secrets, just like visitors like their privacy.”
The way he leaned in, the way his eyes sparkled with curiosity made my skin prickle. I didn’t like the way he seemed to know everything before I had spoken.
Before I could respond, the door creaked open.
A man stepped fully into the room, closing the door softly behind him. His eyes locked on mine and t he way he said my name felt less like a greeting and more like a test.
“Claire Monroe,” he said.
I swallowed. “Yes.”
He came closer, When he stopped in front of me, he extended a hand.
“Thomas Wren,” he said. “Retired police captain. Now working private cases. Your old friend—Captain Richard Hayes from the LAPD—spoke very highly of you.”
The name hit me like a jolt. Richard Larson. My old captain. One of the few in Los Angeles who still respected me after everything.
Thomas continued, “He mentioned you were sharp. That you have a way of seeing what others miss. That you’ve closed cases no one else could touch—murders, fraud, kidnappings. He even mentioned that thing with the counterfeit art ring.”
I blinked. “He told you that?”
“He told me a great deal,” Thomas said, his eyes were unwavering. “That you’re stubborn, and you don’t scare easily. That when you commit to a case, you don’t let go. And that’s exactly the kind of mind I need here in Grayhaven.”
I hesitated. “You mean… you’re offering me the private detective job?”
“Exactly,” he said, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I have more work than I can handle alone. The people here—they have problems they don’t want the wrong ears hearing about. Things they need solved quietly. Missing property. Missing people. Bad deals gone wrong. And the police here?” He gave a slow, humorless smile.
“Let’s just say they prefer to keep the peace, not disturb it. I need someone who can solve cases without stirring up a storm.”
I folded my arms. “You don’t even know me. You’re taking a big risk.”
“I trust Captain Richard’s judgment,” Thomas said plainly. “And I’ve been watching you since you walked in. You notice more than you let on. The way you scanned the room. The way you’ve been tracking my words. That’s instinct—and it’s not something you can fake.”
I stayed quiet, studying him back. There was something about him that didn’t fully add up. He seemed to mean every word though
“I’ll warn you,” he went on. “This isn’t Los Angeles. People here don’t trust outsiders. They don’t want their business in the open. If you take this on, you’ll be walking into places where you’re not welcome. You’ll hear things they don’t want you to hear. And sometimes…” His voice dropped even lower. “
For a second, the only sound in the room was the faint buzz of the light above us.
Then Thomas leaned forward, his tone shifting from warning to business. “If you’re willing, I have a first case for you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Already?”
“Already,” he said. “A fisherman named Cal Rourke. Reliable man, lived here his whole life. Three nights ago, he went out before dawn, as he always does. Never came back. His boat was found drifting half a mile from the southern pier. No damage, no signs of a struggle, but no Cal. His mother—Lydia Rourke—came to me yesterday in tears. She’s convinced something happened to him. She’s willing to pay for answers.”
“What do the local police say?” I asked.
Thomas gave a small shrug. “They say the tide took him. That it happens. Fishermen drown, boats drift, and the ocean keeps its dead. Case closed.” He shook his head slowly. “But I’ve known Cal for twenty years. He knew these waters better than anyone. If he went out, he planned to come back.”
I tapped my fingers lightly on the table. “And you think someone… made sure he didn’t?”
“I think,” Thomas said, “that Grayhaven is a place where things happen quietly. Too quietly. If Cal Rourke is dead, I want to know who made it so—and if he’s alive, I want to bring him home.”
I looked at him for a long moment. His eyes didn’t flinch.
Finally, I said, “When do we start?”