There was a single quote in the piece from Sutton Montclair, taken from the blog on her website. A paragraph of denial.

This entire incident is a sham. My accounts have been hacked. Nothing you’ve seen with my name on it in the past forty-eight hours came from me. I know that sounds like an excuse in the aftermath of bad publicity, but I assure you, I would never, and have never, threatened a reviewer for not liking my books. I fully encourage open and honest reviews, and have never tried to censor anyone’s opinion of my work, nor will I ever do so.

People hadn’t bought it. There were nearly five thousand comments, where the battle had raged on for weeks.

Holly clicked further. Found a magazine article that mocked Sutton Montclair as a lunatic who stalked her reviewer. The article claimed the reviewer had been forced to take out an order of protection against the author.

Bingo. Finally, something to go on. Something Ethan Montclair hadn’t mentioned.

Holly switched to her law enforcement database and began the search for the order of protection. It had been taken out in Kentucky, by a woman named Rosemary George. Holly found the order with ease on the first try. Reading it, she wondered again about Sutton Montclair’s state of mind following the death of her son.

According to Rosemary George, Sutton had come to her house, knocked on the door, then fled, leaving a bag of canine excrement—that’s how the order parsed it, canine excrement—aflame on the porch. She then proceeded to call the complainant at her place of business, demanding that she take down the offending review. When George hung up, Sutton had called George’s boss and claimed the woman was using the computers in the office for personal activities during business hours, which got George in all sorts of trouble. George consequently went online and told the world Sutton Montclair was insane and had threatened her livelihood, which started the brouhaha up all over again.

It was petty, stupid, tit for tat, and it got them both into trouble. The reviewer lost her job, and Montclair lost her publishing contract. According to the trades, Sutton delivered a day late and the publisher terminated the contract, which was atypical, but in this situation, Holly assumed it was an easy out.

Sutton hadn’t shown in court to defend herself against the stalking charge, the order of protection had been put into place, and life continued on.

The stories had petered out in the past couple of months. Ethan Montclair was truthful there. He’d said things were calmed down, back on track.

But now Sutton Montclair was gone.

Holly sat back in the chair. To her, this was looking more and more like an unsettled young woman who’d been pushed over the edge. It was a shame, but there wasn’t a crime here. She didn’t think Ethan Montclair had hurt his wife, either, even if there was something else at play.

The phone rang. Moreno’s name on the caller ID, no preamble when she greeted him.