Chapter 1

Maggie Singleton

So, how does this story start? my name is Maggie Singleton and I'm 38 years old. My friends call me Mags for short. I could tell you about myself, where I live, my dreams, my shortcomings. I could tell you that my life is perfect. I have a great job, a husband that loves me, two kids, two dogs, etc. Who would want to read that story?

Seriously though, I am far from perfect. I do live in a suburb of Dallas, Texas. Yes, I am married with two kids and two dogs. I drive a Volkswagen and work for an insurance company. I keep to myself, have a few close friends. When the mood is right, I like to drink white wine and play my guitar.

About a year ago, things changed. My life was turned upside down in a matter of minutes. And that, my friends, is where we start.

Chapter 2

The Conference Room

It was a Tuesday in March. Just a normal Tuesday at Fine Arts Insurance Company. I got to the office around 7:30am, said hello to my assistant Bethany, and opened my computer to check my emails and calendar. I had a few appointments with three important clients today.

Yay, Coffee with Bridgette at 9am, lunch with Damian at 12:30pm, insert eye roll here, and then a 3 o'clock with Debra in our conference room.

Bridgette Hanson is the CEO of Guildform Appraisals. She's known to be a little eccentric, but who doesn't love a little spice in the work day? I have handled her account for years and we've become quite close. Our families travel together, kids play on the same soccer team and our husbands play golf at 10am every Thursday. So, enough background, back to my meeting with Bridgette at 9am.

We were to meet at Free Beans Cafe. It was our regular spot. I left the office at 8:45 and walked a few blocks to the coffee shop. Our favorite Barista Irene greeted me at the door and showed me to our normal table. I ordered my usual white chocolate mocha and a butter croissant, and ordered Bridgette a vanilla latte with cinnamon and a blueberry scone. Just like normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. My phone kept going off with some unknown caller. I don't have time for telemarketers today so Ignored them.

Bridgette may be a little crazy, but she is never late. I was quite surprised that she wasn't right behind me. As I waited, I checked my phone to see if she had texted. Nothing. No text, no email. This wasn't like Bridgette at all. She had never missed our 9am coffee meeting. It was just weird. I finished my coffee and croissant, and then I called my assistant. Bethany said there were no calls for me. Strange, so I called Bridgette. No answer. I texted, no response. Now, I start to worry so I called her husband Mike. Again, no answer.

About a minute after I called Mike, Bethany called me. She said I had to come back to the office now, it was urgent and she couldn't tell me why.

I tipped Irene, and ran back to the office. When I got there, Bethany escorted me to the conference room. The executive team of our company was waiting for me. They asked me to sit down.

My boss, Collin, asked me how I was doing, could he get me anything. I responded I was fine and a little freaked out, why was the whole executive team here? Did I do something wrong?

Collin assured me everything was fine, but he had some bad news. There had been an accident early this morning on the freeway that involved one of my clients. Apparently, Bridgette had jumped off the overpass at Preston and 635 and landed on the windshield of a mac truck. The police found her phone in her jacket pocket and apparently she had started a text to me. The text read, "Mags, Please tell Mike and the kids I love them. He got me!".

I was shocked. No, not Bridgette! Who was "he" and how did he get her?

"Maggie", Collin said as he snapped his fingers in my face, "Are you okay? Do I need to call Mark for you?"

"No," I said, "I guess I am in shock. Bridgette would never do something like that. Not in a million years!"

Collin said the Police detective left his card and asked me to call as soon as possible. He told me to take the rest of the day off. He would handle my other appointments.

Chapter 3

Bridgette Hanson

Bridgette was a spit fire, and, if I'm being truthful, a bit crazy at times. She was the CEO for the largest fine arts appraisal company in the nation. In the business world, Bridgette was not the type to be pushed around, intimidated or taken advantage of. She was one tough cookie. She didn't let detectives or attorneys get under her skin during insurance claims cases, she always kept her cool. It was one of the things I most admired about her.

We became fast friends when I took over her company's account years ago. Bridgette was handling a large fine art appraisal for one of our company's large clients, Rochester Dugan.

During the appraisal process, Bridgette found that a few of the paintings on the schedule were copies of the original pieces. The most valuable being a Paul Gauguin valued at just over forty million dollars.

I received the appraisal from Bridgette and notified Mr. Dugan in writing that we could not insure three of his paintings as they were copies of an original, namely the Gauguin. This notification was sent the day after receiving the appraisal from Bridgette. A few weeks went by and we received a claim from Mr. Dugan stating his Gauguin had been stolen from his home. I contacted Mr. Dugan and reminded him of my certified letter, numerous voicemails and messages left with his personal assistant that we were not covering the three copies, namely the Gauguin.

That is when things turned ugly. Mr.Dugan argued, threatened to sue, and lit my inbox up with other certificates of authenticity from a few other art appraisers. I promptly notified our claims team and legal counsel that there was an issue and decided to let the experts work their magic.

Weeks went by with nothing. I assumed all was resolved. Then I get a call from Bridgette. Apparently, Rochester Dugan sued Guildform Appraisals for a hundred million dollars plus punitive damages. He was calling into question her expertise as an appraiser and badmouthing her company in the press. Even with all this, Bridgette kept her cool. She didn't seem phased, it was just another day at the office for her.

Rochester Dugan wasn't a man that liked to be bested by a woman. He was used to getting his way, come hell or high water. Even his business partners did not cross him. It was rumored that he had mob ties, or was the head of the mob, although there was no evidence to support such gossip. He used his legal team to do his bidding and most of that team were sharks. They knew all the tricks of the trade and were paid handsomely for their wins in court.

But, Bridgette beat him at his own game. She prevailed over Dugan and his team of leeches. Rochester lost his case, and left that court room licking his wounds.

About a week after the case, Bridgette mentioned she had been receiving random phone calls and weird messages. One in particular said don't start your car today bitch. Her kids started telling her about men that would give messages to friends to deliver to them. Even her husband Mike was getting random weird notes.

But again, Bridgette wasn't phased. She had dealt with pissed off clients before, and her fair share of crazies. Mike, on the other hand, was starting to worry. These threats were now coming in daily and getting worse. Someone spray painted the word Cunt on Bridgette's car and smashed the windshield with a baseball bat at their son's soccer game. This was there last straw!

They contacted the police, made official reports. But, because there were no fingerprints, and no video, there was nothing the police could do. So, they updated the security system at their home and hired a set of body guards for the family. The cars were checked each morning before being driven and security scans of their property run and stored offsite. They were being cautious, but still trying their best to be normal.

In our weekly coffee meetings, Bridgette seemed to be handling it well, or so I thought. Looking back, I didn't notice the mace on her keychain, or the taser she kept attached to her purse. I didn't notice how she had to be seated facing the door so she could see who entered and exited the cafe. I didn't notice how tired she looked, or how she was always looking at her phone. I wish I had noticed these things. I wish I had really pushed her to talk to me about how she was handling all of this. I wish I had asked her who she thought was behind all of this.

That my friends was a heathy dose of hindsight. All the maybe's or what ifs I could utter wouldn't bring Bridgette back.

I pulled the business card out of my purse and stared at it for a while. Detective Morgan Lowe. The name was oddly familiar. Where had I seen his name before? I dialed the number on the card and he answered.

Chapter 4

The Morgue

"Detective Lowe" he stated.

"Detective, this is Mags, I mean Maggie Singleton, from Fine Arts Insurance Company. You left my boss Collin your business card."

"Oh yes, Mrs. Singleton, would you have time to come down to the morgue? We need someone to ID the body. We can't seem to reach her next of kin." he said.

"You mean that Mike hasn't returned your calls? He always answers his phone. It's his lifeline. He even took a business call while Bridgette was giving birth. That's not like him." I said with alarm.

"We went through Mrs Hanson's phone, but all of her contacts were encrypted. The only way we found your info was the open text message she was trying to send was to you. It was never actually sent. Can you share his contact info," he asked.

I replied, "Sure, can I text you the info? I'm happy to come down to ID her if you can't reach Mike."

I provided Mike's contact info to Detective Lowe and said I would meet him at the morgue.

When I got to the morgue, I was shaking. I've never had to identify a body, let alone for one of my closest friends. I checked in at the front desk and Detective Lowe was waiting for me. He was clean cut and dressed in a black leather jacket, pressed white shirt, designer jeans and had a pair of rather expensive sun glasses hanging from his shirt pocket. He didn't look like a detective. He was oddly familiar yet not. I had seen him before, but I couldn't remember where.

Detective Lowe took me to morgue where we met the Coroner, Andy Franklin. The detective cautioned that her body was badly mangled and to take my time. Mr. Franklin pulled back the sheet, and I immediately threw up. I stood up, composed my self and looked at the body. Her face was completely unrecognizable. The body looked a little overweight and a little too short to be Bridgette. Something was off. I didn't recognize the body I was staring at. It wasn't Bridgette, it just couldn't be her!

I told Detective Lowe that I couldn't tell for sure if that was Bridgette and asked to look at her personal effects. Detective Lowe took me to another room and provided me with the bagged evidence collected off Bridgette's body. As I looked through it, I noticed her wedding ring was missing, there was a single Christian Louboutin pump, her phone case was wrong, and the CAALO trench coat Bridgette was known to wear wasn't a CAALO but a cheap version of a London fog trench coat. This was not Bridgette!

I told the Detective Lowe that body didn't belong to my friend. That was not Bridgette. He asked if I was sure. Why the hell would I lie? Of course I was sure. I told him we needed to go to their house right now! Something was wrong about all of this.