Strong Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #1)(8)

“Just a month? I take it that’s unusual.”

“Yes. We have a . . . routine, sort of. We talk once a month, like clockwork.”

“A month ago Friday. Obviously you’ve tried calling over the last five days.” She nods. “You’ve tried his friends, associates, people who might know where he is?”

“Ummm, not really. I mean I can’t really . . . I can’t . . . It’s complicated, but I know that if everything was okay, he’d have been there when I called.”

“Been where? At home? On his cell phone? Where?”

“Where he is when we talk.”

“Which is . . . ?” She doesn’t answer. I study her in silence for two full minutes, long enough to make her fidget uncomfortably. “You realize that the more you keep from me, the less likely it is that I’ll find him.”

“I thought you could find anyone. In fact, didn’t you say you were damn good at it?”

“I did. And I am, but I’m not a psychic. I still need something to go on.”

“And I gave you that. I’m telling you everything I know that might help you find him.”

“Where do you call once a month?”

She breathes out noisily, obviously perturbed. “We use pay phones, but they’re all in different places around Treeborn.” Muse shakes her head, her thick hair teasing her shoulders. “Look, that’s not important. What’s important is that he wasn’t there when I called and he always is. Something is wrong and I want you to find him.”

“Why not just call the police? Place a missing persons report? It’s been long enough.”

“I can’t . . . We . . . That’s just not an option. That’s why I’m hiring you. You do this for a living. You should be able to find him, right?”

I pause. “Yes. I can find him. It just might take me a few days.”

“A few days? Is that all?”

“Yeah, I think so. Doesn’t sound too complicated. That’s after I get there, of course.”

“Which will be . . . when? Will you fly out tomorrow?”

“No, I’ll drive.”

“Drive? You’re going to drive from San Diego to South Carolina?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“I . . . No, I don’t suppose. I’m just . . . surprised is all.”

“Does it matter how I get there?”

“No, not really. It’s just that . . . the thing is, I want to go with you.”

This I wasn’t expecting. Maybe she really is unpredictable. “And why is that? If I need something from you, I can call.”

“Because I need to see him, I need to talk to him. Face-to-face.”

I say nothing for a while. I couldn’t be happier with this turn of events, but, obviously, I can’t let Muse know that. Finally, I speak to lay down some ground rules. “I’ll agree to that on a few conditions.”

She arches one smooth brow. “Which are?”

“I work alone. If I let you tag along, don’t expect me to include you in details, conversations, or sources. Don’t expect me to answer a bunch of questions or explain why I do the things I do. Just trust that I’ll find your father. I’ll find him and I’ll take you to him. If you do that, let me do my job, no questions asked, we won’t have any problems.”

I can tell by the expression in her green-green eyes and the twitch of her full-full lips that she wants to say something. Probably argue. But she won’t. I have the upper hand and she knows it. Normally, she’d probably have a lot to say, but she’s controlling herself for the sake of finding her father.

“Okay. I can do that.” A pause. “What about money? How much do you charge?”

“A thousand-dollar retainer. We can talk about the rest when I find him.”

She blanches a little. “Okay. I . . . That’ll be fine.”

I don’t feel guilty for taking her money. It’s not like I’ll be keeping it.

“Look, I know it’s late. Why don’t you jot down the target’s last known address and telephone number so I can get to work and you can get back to . . .” I glance at what’s playing on the television. “Whatever that is.”

“It’s Dirty Dancing.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“It’s a classic,” she defends weakly.

“By whose standards?”

“Mine. And every other woman, girl and child who has ever seen it.”

“Whatever you say,” I rejoin mildly. “While you’re at it, I’ll need the make and model of his car and where he spent his last vacation. And the names of any companions he spends time with.”

She nods and turns to leave the room. She stops in the doorway where the hardwoods give way to tile. I assume it’s the entrance to the kitchen. Her sober eyes plead with mine. “Please don’t call him ‘the target.’ He’s the most important person in my life. The only thing I have left in the world.” With that, she disappears around the corner.

And just like that, I feel the first pang of guilt that I’ve had in seven long years.





FIVE


Muse

By seven in the morning, I’m perched on the edge of the couch, watching the street through the filmy black scarves that cover my living room window. I’ve been sitting here for eleven minutes, mainly because I slept very little and have been up since five packing. I had no idea what kind of clothes I might need. I mean will this be like a spy movie where we’ll be sneaking around, all covert and stuff? Will we be visiting questionable biker bars and beating information out of lowlifes? Or is this a case of I watch too much television, our trip will be nothing like that and I’ll spend a lot of time in the car? I don’t know because Jasper didn’t tell me. Big surprise! And I’ve never had to search for someone like this before—or hire someone to search for someone like this either—so I packed a little of everything plus a couple of days’ worth of travel clothes. That’s the one thing I could find out for sure. We’ll be on the road for approximately thirty-six hours. That requires a lot of yoga pants.