“I’m not sure. A couple days, I think.”
“You think?”Damn. She is one cold bitch.
“You don’t understand. Chrissy lives with my grandmother, outside of Buffalo. She’s not answering her phone. We talk every day. This isn’t like her.” Steady blue eyes, enhanced by contacts, stare at me without blinking, an indication she’s telling the truth.
“And what does her guardian say?”
“We’re not on speaking terms. She has legal custody. Listen, I need someone to make sure my kid is alright. Do you want the job or not?” Her eyes water. She’s either a very good actress or is truly concerned.
I give her my rates and she doesn’t bat an eyelash. Instead, she hands me one of those gold-colored credit cards. “Take whatever you need and bill me what? Daily? Weekly? All I ask is you start looking immediately.”
I nod, use my phone app to collect her down payment, and turn my laptop so she can fill out her information.
After she signs our contract, I look over her info. She describes herself as self-employed. In this line of business, if the card clears, I’ve learned it’s best not to ask too many questions. As I figured, Ms. Bright got knocked up at a very young age. Her now deceased mother had custody of the child until last year. Then, Selena’s grandmother took over.
“I’m sorry to ask, but why didn’t you have Chrissy come live with you after your mother passed?”
She shrugs. “All her friends are up north. We talked about it and decided staying put would be best.”
This looks like an open and shut case. “Why not involve the police?”
“And say what? My teenager didn’t pick up her phone? I’m not even supposed to call her.”
I wonder if she means the girl harm but on closer inspection, the woman has dark circles that her makeup couldn’t cover, and her fingers turn white where she clutches her purse.
“Please.” Her voice breaks and as she blinks back tears, my spidey-senses tingle.
Something is not right. “I’ll see what we can do and call you later today.”
“Thank you.” Relief soaks her face as she stands, struts to the door, and uses both hands to shake mine. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“Yes ma’am.” I let her out and as I watch her make her way down the stairs, Wheels circles down from the loft and waits with me at the plate glass window.
“Sweet Baby Jesus.”
“Damn straight.”
Wanting another opinion, I speed dial my wife. “Hey sugar, you got a second?”
I hear my toddler son squawkin’ in the background until she shuts off the speaker. “Wazzup?”
“I’m sending you a missing person’s case.” As I start to type, shots are fired outside, and I drop the Samsung on the sill. “Shit. Call ya back. Gotta go.”
Ms. Bright, who’d been waiting for a lift, chases a dark town car with her phone held high.
“On it!” Wheels vaults the glass table and I follow him down to the street.
“Get her upstairs.” I dash after the shooter but the car blasts through a red light and the tires squeal as it turns. When I reach the corner, the vehicle is long gone.
After trotting back to the door, I inspect the wall near where my new client was standing. There’s no bullet hole. Whoever shot, missed by a mile. This leads me to conclude calling the police would be pointless. Countless hours would be wasted and as much as I enjoy a good long ramble, best I stick to finding out who tried to kill the woman.
Remembering how I dropped my wife’s call, I jog up the stairs, and text her not to worry. Then, I grab a water and sit my ass down at my office table next to my client. I nod at my pal and indicate he should do the same. Two heads are always better than one.
Ms. Bright lifts her thick fake lashes. “Did you find him?”
“Sorry, no.” To Wheels I add, “No casings, no bullet. Black town car. The gun was maybe a foot away from her head. The shooter could’ve shut his eyes and still made the hit.”
My guest catches Selena’s gaze. “No offense, ma’am. Any reason a blind man might want to kill you?”
