This is for a writing challenge in a Telegram group I joined (link here if you're interested: https://t.me/joinchat/TXMB1RU1ETeKOakg). At just over a thousand words, we would write a short story fitting a chosen theme. The new theme for this week is, "The past cannot hurt you anymore."

Another story focused on Zack Leander (it's been too long, hasn't it?) On a side note, I seriously need to stop forcing my private detective to take on cases/clientele that involve toxic families, controlling parents, or both. My poor calico has enough family drama of his own, so he doesn't need to deal with the drama of other families too! XP

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A great downside to being a private investigator was that most clients didn’t hire me for altruistic reasons.

Oftentimes, they ranged from the petty to the downright disturbing. Well, not that kind of disturbing. At best I would turn a potential client away, and at worst, I would send a notice to the CCPD. Mostly, with these kinds of cases. I just needed to contend with narcissists who wanted to ignore the wishes of family members that didn’t want to see them ever again. Not that they ever wanted to mention that critical part during the interview, mind you.

Take Jared and Ashley DeAngelo, a churchgoing coyote couple who sneered at the demisexual flag pin on my coat. Nevertheless, they demanded that I use all of my skills to find their ‘missing daughter’, Madeline, who they described in colorfully chauvinistic language as being an ‘impure jezebel that needs to be guided by a man we found for her’. They described Madeline as being on every drug they could list off the top of their heads and claimed that she disappeared out of the blue on the morning of her eighteenth, conveniently avoiding any questions I had about the weeks leading up to that fateful day.

Since I needed to pay my end of the rent for the month and I wasn’t in the mood to take it from my savings, I accepted the case. If only to get the full picture and give their daughter some warning ahead of time. After all, if I could easily find her, then so could the next private eye that Mr. and Mrs. DeAngelo hired. And I sincerely doubted the next private I would consider Madeline’s feelings on wanting to be found.

Anyway, it required several interviews of acquaintances and a bit of deduction on social media, but I easily found the coyote. She not only fled the state of Utah, but the country too, settling down in Toronto and gaining dual citizenship. From what I could gather, Madeline DeAngelo made a life for herself and seemed incredibly happy.

Then I came barging in with a phone call.

“Hello, this is Maddy,” she chimed in on her phone. “Who is this?”

“Hello, Ms. DeAngelo.” I sat behind my office desk, sighing as a faint gasp could be heard on the other end. “Are you available to talk? I believe you will want to hear this.”

“Okay?” She sounded wary and worried.

“My name is Zack Leander,” I explained. “I am a private detective hired by your parents to find you. They made some…very bold claims about you, but I can see from your posts that none of it is true.”

“They hired an investigator?” she growled, then groaned. “Why did you call me?”

“I want to get your side of the story,” came my reply. “I don’t like it when my clients lie to me, especially when they claim that you abused drugs and disappeared out of the blue after turning eighteen.”

“That sounds like something Jared and Ashley would say,” Maddy muttered on the other end of the line. “It’s not all true. I don’t use drugs, but I did leave the night I became an adult, in case you’re wondering…”

“Let me guess,” I surmised. “They controlled every aspect of your life? Wanted you to marry a boy you didn’t love? And you wanted to be an artist instead of a housewife?”

“You’re right on the money there,” she laughed shortly. “But it wasn’t just a boy. It was my neighbor. His father is close friends with mine, and they only cared about inheriting land. The guy wanted to marry me, but keep his long-term girlfriend as a mistress. So, I left and never plan to look back.”

“Oh my God,” I replied.

“Yeah,” Maddy said.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that,” I apologized.

“It’s in the past, and from where I am, the past can’t hurt me. Not anymore.”

We spoke for a little while longer afterwards. Maddy wasn’t pleased about me looking for her, but she did sound more understanding when I pointed out the obvious that other private investigators could easily find her. They wouldn’t care about her side of the story. If anything, they would simply spill everything about her personal life to her parents. Madeline didn’t act very scared about it, however. She felt confident neither Ashley nor Jared could find where she lived.

“Unless they plan to scour all of Southern Ontario, I doubt they’ll find me,” she said. “Jared’s got an uncle on the force in Crossroads City, and I heard from a friend down there that he’ll try to extradite me on flimsy charges. I’m not worried though. I’ve spoken to attorneys. I’ve got evidence against whatever they claim I did. I’ve also got recorded evidence that proves my sperm donor bastard parents don’t care about me. They just see me as lost property, and the next time you see them, can you tell ‘em I wish they’ll burn in Hell?”

“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “But I think you made it clear in being radio silent for three years. And the note you apparently left them.”

“True, true.”

I mentioned my own struggles with my parents, how it felt being a male calico judged for not being able to bear children and being demisexual in a religious family. I then warned Maddy that her parents would see me the following morning, and she had plenty of time to strengthen her peace. The coyote thanked me but still wasn’t pleased about it. Neither was I.

Her online accounts went to private immediately after our call ended. Her current phone number blocked mine too, and presumably her parents’ too. Speaking of whom, they were none the wiser when they came to ask about her whereabouts. As promised, I didn’t mention details, but I did mention she left the country for somewhere else. Neither the mother nor the father managed to see through my deception. I didn’t bother feeling guilty about it though, since my contracts for these kinds of cases held a specific clause in the fine print, warning the client I was allowed to speak directly with their ‘missing person’ to get their side of the story.

Oh well. Jared and Ashley DeAngelo still paid me for my troubles. I didn’t like cashing the check though.