A Familiar Voice comes out in a few days, on the 18th of November. In the meantime, here’s a quick sample of what’s in store for Katy Lapointe.

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After lunch, they put their clothes in the washing machine. Katy had just started the coffee maker when the doorbell rang.

“Katy Lapointe?” the woman said. She was wearing a dark business suit with her black hair pulled tightly into a bun. A leather satchel hung from her shoulder.

“Yes,” Katy said warily.

“Detective Jana Murty,” she said, flashing some identification. “May I come in?”

Katy, resigned to another grilling, opened the door further, stepped aside, and beckoned to the living room where her mother was already seated upon the sofa. Katy joined her, and the detective took a seat opposite.

“Mrs. Girard?” said the detective. Katy’s mother nodded.

“Are you here to blame us for getting shot at?” said Katy.

“Katy!” admonished her mother.

“It’s quite all right Mrs. Girard. No, that’s not why I’m here, though I’m curious why you would think that.”

“Sorry. The detective yesterday seemed to think we were as guilty as the guys that shot at us.”

“Well, allow me to apologize on their behalf,” said Detective Murty. “I’m afraid, though, that I will need you to run through what happened once more.”

With a sigh, Katy said, “Sure,” and she did so.

When she finished, the coffeemaker pinged. Katy’s mother looked towards the detective and asked, “Who would like some coffee?”

“That would be lovely, thanks,” said Murty. “With some cream, please, if you have it.”

“And I don’t have to ask you, Katy,” she said as she rose and went to the kitchen.

In a hushed voice, Detective Murty leaned forward and said to Katy, “If possible, I’d like to discuss something with you. Just you. It might be upsetting to your mother.”

This aroused Katy’s curiosity, and she nodded in response.

When her mother returned with a tray of coffees and cream for her and the detective, Katy said, “Thanks, Maman. I can take care of the rest of the detective’s questions if you wanted to get back to your housework.”

She glanced towards the detective. Upon Murty nodding in agreement, she said, “Merci,” left the living room, and took the stairs to the second floor to resume her vacuuming.

“How much does your mother know about your troubles of earlier this year?”

“Troubles,” said Katy. “That’s one way of putting it. All she knows is that I was attacked in a parking lot. There was no keeping that from her once the video went viral. She doesn’t know anything else. She would freak right out.”

“I thought as much,” said Murty. “I wouldn’t have told my mother either. In fact, there are a lot of things that happen in this job that I can’t share with her. That’s why I need to speak to you alone.”

Dipping into her shoulder bag, Murty retrieved a file folder, set it on the coffee table, and opened it, flipping through the pages of text and photographs.

“You were identified as a person of interest in an industrial espionage case. And then as a person of interest in the murders of Marvin Benett and Jim Coban. You were released, and then you goaded Robert Johnson into sending the real killer after you. He attacked you and that attack was, coincidentally you claim, caught on video. Is that an accurate summary?”

“I suppose. You missed the part where I was nearly killed in my own home. And it was all a bit more upsetting than your summary might imply. I mean, Marv was one of my best friends.”

“Of course. You must be an amazingly strong person to come through an experience like that and still be as well-adjusted as you seem to be.”

Katy couldn’t help but smile. “Heavy drinking helps.”

“I suspect it’s a bit more than that.” Here, Murty paused and seemed to assess Katy. When she continued, she said, “I’m very sorry to tell you that what happened yesterday might be related to that case.”

Katy felt a surge of dread. “How? We took down all the players. I figured yesterday was road rage or some such thing.”

“And they just happened to have ski masks in the car this time of year? But it’s not just that. Last week, Bernard Ladouceur was killed in a prison fight. And this morning, Robert Johnson was found dead in his cell.”

Katy felt herself turning pale. Ladouceur had been the hands-on muscle. He’d killed Marv. He’d also killed Hitesh Varma, the marketing director at Davidson, and Jim Coban, the marketing director at her company. And he had tried to kill her. Twice. As for Johnson, Katy and he were former colleagues and friends. Unfortunately, he had been responsible for the whole nasty business. Taking him down had been bittersweet. “How did it happen?”

“He was found with a shiv sticking out of his jugular.”

“Well, that would do it.” Katy, thinking furiously, considering the implications. There was really only one conclusion, and she hated it: “Someone is tidying up loose ends.”

“Exactly,” Murty nodded. “Now, it’s still possible that these are coincidences, but if you put them together with what happened yesterday—”

“Then,” said Katy, finishing the sentence, “I’m another loose end.”

“And if that’s true, your mother’s not safe, not if you stay here.” While Katy digested that, Murty continued. “We can arrange protective custody, but at the very least I think you need to get out of this house.”

“Agreed,” said Katy, getting to her feet. “But ixnay on the protective custody. I can take care of myself.”

The detective smiled. “I thought you might say that, but the offer stands.” After handing Katy her business card, she added “My cell phone number is there. Call anytime. I mean it. And please take a card for your mother, just in case.”

“I do appreciate it, really I do,” said Katy, taking the cards. “Will you let me know if you find out anything?”

“For sure. But please exercise extreme caution. There’s no way of knowing when your friends from yesterday will be back, but you can be sure they’ll be back sometime.”