“Maybe it’s for the best?”
“Shut it. I need someone to help me. She couldn’t have gone far.”
“I got a guy over near Miami. Russell. He’s good. Does some work for me in my business when I need to investigate someone.”
“Text me his number, okay?”
“Yes, sir. You need anything?”
“Just my kid and my woman.”
“You still watching my money?”
“Your money’s fine, Sull. Text me the number,” I said, and I hung up.
The gym had already called. I was becoming a regular deadbeat. Missing workouts, drinking myself into a stupor, and not supporting my kid. Soon I’d be waking up on a park bench somewhere, stinking to high hell. I was like a homeless hobo without my family.
When my phone chimed with a text, I hit the number and called.
Russell was a University of Miami graduate who fell in love with the weather. His college girlfriend had gone missing after graduation, and he fell into this kind of work. Now, he found people and dug up dirt full time. I was sure his clientele was a who’s who of Florida.
I told him what I knew. The sedan’s make, model, and color. Red hair for Jules and strawberry blond for Darla, approximate heights and weights. Bryce’s name and number, but I let him know I’d be visiting the ass myself as soon as we hung up.
Russell warned against doing that, and I politely told him to shut the fuck up.
I felt like such a chump. I didn’t even know what bank she used or Darla’s pediatrician. I was little to no help. Visiting Bryce was the least I could do.
“Come in,” the dumbass called from behind his office door. When Bryce saw me, he stood up from behind his desk. “Shit. I didn’t know it was you.”
“Surprise.” I mocked him with a smirk. “Have you heard from her?” I asked, cutting right to the chase. I had no need for small talk with the bastard.
“This morning. Still sick.”
“You know that’s bullshit.”
“I also know Claire.”
“You mean Jules. Obviously, not as well as you think.”
“I know the more you push, the harder she pulls back. I’ve learned that over the years. I also know she’s the biggest, baddest mama bear when it comes to Darla. You must’ve done something to scare her off.”
“Don’t fucking tell me what I did. You had her on the phone and didn’t find out where the hell she was. You knew she was bullshitting.”
“It’s not my place to push her. I’m her friend.”
“Some fucking friend. You’re not even worried.”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Mr. King, but Claire ... Jules ... is not my responsibility outside the restaurant.”
“Fuck off.” I turned to walk out the door, but remembered Russ. “Listen, some dude named Russell is gonna call you. I suggest you answer all his questions and be prepared to hand over your phone. Jules and Darla may not be your responsibility, but they sure as hell are mine.”
I stormed out of the Southern and out to my car a desperate man.
Where the fuck was she?
Later that day, pacing my home office, I knew what I was about to do would turn out to be either incredibly stupid or naive. But I didn’t care, because I was desperate.
I was used to being in control, and I could see that it wasn’t helping me with Jules. She was gone, and shit was more out of control than if she were here.
