*Foreword* Ethan McCormick is a special character for me. He's one I've been developing over many years. He started as an English project in High School and over time became one of my main characters as a writer. If you haven't met him yet, he's an ex-Miami Police Officer turned private detective. I thought it would be neat to start a series of blog posts which outline some of the cases he works on between novels.This will be the only time I issue a foreword for "his" blog posts from here on out. I hope you enjoy these mini stories. If you like them, let me know in the comments below or on my social media pages. If you haven't read Ethan's adventure yet, you can pick up To the Wolves and learn what pushes him to become a private detective. His new adventure will be out later this year! Without further delay, here is Ethan McCormick's case logs.
It's been a few months since I left the police department for certain reasons. If you've watched the news lately, you'll know why. If you haven't, go ahead and look it up. I won't outline it here. I'm starting this blog to keep a public record of the cases I take. Names will be changed in order to protect everyone's identity.
I received my first real case only a few days ago. It was a fairly straight forward one. I was contacted by the manager of a local restaurant. One of his employees had filed for worker's compensation. He wasn't so sure the claim was legit. Since he can't straight out call him a liar, he did the next best thing. He hired a private detective to prove he's faking. This was my first case since leaving the department, mind you. I've still got a lot to learn.
The first night, I set up shop outside the man's home. I had my camera, my thermos of coffee, and a pair of binoculars. Watching him practically all night, I fought off the urge to sleep. I guess I had seen too many movies because night was the worst decision ever. I needed to try and catch him out in the middle of the day, walking on two legs instead of one in a cast and on crutches.
So, the next day, I grabbed my camera and drove to his neighborhood. Parking a few houses down, I got out and went for a walk. After a few passes by his home, he finally came out to get the mail. He hobbled on one leg, fighting with the crutches. I immediately believed he was actually injured. The way he struggled with the crutches seemed realistic.
I took a few snapshots from down the street and set off towards my car. I stopped in my tracks when another vehicle pulled up in front of his house. It was a bright red Mustang with a convertible roof. Out climbed a stunning woman in a skin tight, black dress. I don't know what compelled me to stay, but I ended up snapping a couple photos of the two of them sharing a passionate kiss in the front yard. After, she helped him inside.
Shrugging off the encounter, I made it back to my own car and tossed the camera inside. From there, I drove straight to the restaurant with the evidence that his employee was telling the truth. Frank, the manager, was actually relieved. He liked his employee, Daniel. "He's a good kid," he said. "But I heard rumors he wasn't actually hurt. Gotta look into it, you know."
The most interesting thing happened when I decided, for reasons unknown, to share the last photo of the kid I had taken. "Yeah, he seems nice and he's got a hell of a girlfriend," I told him as I passed him the camera. I have never seen a human being turn the shade of red Frank did. His face was the same color as a firetruck. I thought he was going to literally explode.
Just as I was about to ask what was wrong, he yelled, "That's my wife. That little bastard!" Daniel had met Frank's wife at the restaurant one afternoon and bought her a drink. Frank was in the back doing paperwork and the two flirted lightly. One thing led to another, and Daniel started to sleep with Frank's wife. I guess it went on for quite some time. Worse, he really was faking the leg injury for the worker's comp money. It turned out, he and Jessica were planning a trip together and planned to "make Frank pay for it." It gave them more time to fool around while he was out of work for his "injury."
Needless to say, it was a funny one. It seemed open and shut and yet there were layers to it that I could not have fathomed. It never ceases to amaze me what some people will do. But, without those type of people I would be out of a job. So I guess, thank you Daniel and Jessica, in a sort of messed up way.
To cover up his search history, Evan Bond is a thriller/suspense author. As an outdoor enthusiast and horror lover, Evan Bond enjoys writing stories where the two come together. He lives in Florida with his wife and two sons.