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In this fast-paced mystery, the author of the Ellie Forman series introduces suspended cop and now PI Georgia Davis. Georgia is hired to help clear a mentally ill man, Cam Jordan, who is accused of killing a teenage girl, Sara Long, in a local forest preserve. It looks like an open-and-shut case; Cam’s fingerprints are on the murder weapon, and the victim’s blood is on his shirt. However, Georgia and Cam’s lawyer suspect Cam is being railroaded. Through her investigation, Georgia finds Sara was killed at a high-school hazing, and a local teenage prostitution ring is operating on the North Shore, a privileged, upper-class area north of Chicago. Also, there is a shady real-estate deal going on. Even when Georgia finds enough evidence to cast doubt on Cam’s culpability, she continues her investigation, intent on finding out who killed Sara and why. Georgia is a loner with a minimalist lifestyle who is recovering from her breakup with her boyfriend. She is a principled, compassionate character, determined to do the right thing, even if it doesn’t follow conventional assumptions.

“That two-timing bitch,” he spat. “She’s going to pay. Big time.”

Georgia Davis tried to ignore the man’s venom, but the more he talked, the more vicious he grew. A potential client, he’d met her at Starbucks and immediately started to rant about his wife. Georgia listened, hoping she could remain dispassionate. “When did you first suspect she was seeing someone?”

“About six months ago.”

“You waited a long time to act on it.”

“I thought maybe she was telling the truth about the goddammed class. Then I called the school, and they had no fucking record of her registration.” His face grew so crimson, his body so rigid she was afraid he might explode. “She’s a whore. A godammed cheating whore. After all I’ve done for her. She was nothing before she married me.” He bunched his hands into fists. “A f****** nobody!”

Georgia sipped her coffee. The guy had come in as a referral from a PI she hardly knew. The dick worked in the western suburbs, but the client lived on the North Shore, and he thought Georgia would be better suited to the case. She’d gratefully snapped it up, but now she wasn’t so sure. Did the PI know what an asshole this guy was? Maybe she should have grilled him before she jumped.

Except the guy was paying good money. He hadn’t blinked when she gave him her per diem, payable up front, and he agreed to a bonus if she came up with the goods.

“Let me look into it, Mr. Colley,” she put down her coffee. “If it’s true, you’ll have your proof.”

“What, pictures? Videotape? Crap like that?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s gonna have to hold up in court.”

“It will.”

He eyed her skeptically. “Lamont says you’re new to this game.”

Georgia looked him in the eye. “I was a cop for ten years.”

“Where?”

“Up here. On the North Shore.”

“You spent your days tracking down lost bicycles and cats?”

And covered a lot of domestics, she thought. “Among other things.”

“This job—well—it’s not handing out speeding tickets on Happ Road. How do I know you can handle it?”

She leveled another look at him. “”You don’t.” She paused. “But if you have any doubts, you’re free to find someone else.” She lifted her bag off the back of the chair, and hiked it up on her shoulder. “Thanks for the coffee.” She stood up and turned around.

“Hold on.” Colley raised his hand. “I’ll write out a check.”
~ First section of Chapter 3, Easy Innocence by Libby Fischer Hellmann ~