WHAT WE INHERIT

Chapter 1

Sometimes, when the creativity just isn’t flowing, you have to change your surroundings, get out, see people...

I needed a pregnant woman, and there wasn’t a single one in sight. They seemed to be an endangered species. I had actually considered going to a hospital, but even that was too much for me—and there was always the risk of ending up in the psych ward.

I stared helplessly at the little notebook on the table, where I’d made a list of everything I needed to learn about pregnancy. I searched the internet, but everything was so painfully generic. I wanted to go straight to the source and squeeze every possible piece of information out of it.

“What’s holding you up this time?” Max, my friend, asked.

She was one of the few. Along with Liz, she was one of the people who had pulled me out of the darkest hole when I couldn’t see a way out anymore. They were my fairy godmothers.

What? I said most people didn’t have friends. I’m not most people. My mother used to say that herself.

Back to the point. Focus.

I looked at Max. I was pretty sure my face wore the most pathetic expression imaginable—the kind of face a puppy would make after getting dumped on moving day—because she glanced toward where her boss was.

Oh, right. He worked at this coffee shop. That was actually one of the reasons I’d chosen the place.

But she didn’t see him and took the seat across from me.

“Is it really that bad?” she asked, concern written all over her face.

“Pregnant women are extinct. I haven’t found a single one all damn day!”

I let out a miserable groan.

She took a deep breath, rubbed a hand over her face, then pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Lise, I thought you’d killed someone! The way you’ve been sighing makes it sound like the world is ending. Even the cook heard you.”

I rolled my eyes dramatically.

“Why do you need a pregnant woman? Do you want to look at her ultrasound?” I shook my head. “Then what?”

“It’s for my new book.”

“Are you changing genres? Exploring new opportunities?”

The truth was, no.

I know you’re probably curious too, just like she was, so let me explain.

I was looking for a pregnant woman I could follow throughout her pregnancy because, in my new book, the protagonist was a detective working for the Major Crimes Division. She was investigating a serial killer whose victims were all women.

The problem was, our detective was pregnant.

And her new boss was none other than the police captain.

They weren’t a couple. Not even close.

He had come from another city to take over the department after the previous captain was killed in the line of duty. There were other people who could have taken the position, but the new captain had pulled a few strings and managed to get the job.

After all, he was hunting the serial killer too.

She had no idea he was going to be her new boss when she met him at a bar, and the night ended up getting very, very hot.

She hid her pregnancy until well into her second trimester, but eventually someone found out, and she was forced into administrative duty.

But what she couldn’t do during the day was a different story at night.

Nothing could keep her away.

She continued investigating the case as her pregnancy progressed.

And that was exactly why I needed a woman who was actually growing a baby: so I could use her as research material for Natasha.

When I finished explaining, Max struggled to hold back a laugh.

“You know Google exists, right?” she asked, amused.

“It’s not the same thing. Google doesn’t have the same depth of detail—or the expressions.” I crossed my arms, resigned.

“You’re way too paranoid about this stuff, Lise. People read to escape. Obviously, the story has to be good. You’ve never been pregnant, so you don’t know what it feels like. You don’t have to be so ridiculously meticulous about every little thing you write. This perfectionism of yours is going to kill you.”

It already had.

“This is going to be my worst book yet.”