I Called Three Investigators to My Nephew’s Birthday Party

Not my brother, Evan.

Not my mother with her paper plate and potato salad sliding toward the edge.

Then Brittany laughed.

A bad laugh. Thin. Fast.

“Okay,” she said, looking around like she’d just been handed a prank script. “What is this? Seriously, what is this supposed to be?”

The lead investigator didn’t laugh.

Her name was Denise Harrow. Fifty-something.continue reading …