“But—”
He tipped his head towards the far corner of the room, the granite set to his jaw indicating he’d brook no argument.
Kit followed, barely reaching his side before she whispered, “What is the problem, Father? This woman’s child has been stolen.”
“Not stolen. Taken, and by the child’s father no less.”
“But that’s not right!” She clamped her mouth shut and glanced over her shoulder. Thankfully, Mrs. Coleman sat with her back to them, apparently unaware of her outburst—or politely ignoring it.
“The twist in my gut tells me something isn’t quite right about Mrs. Coleman either.” Her father scrubbed a hand over his beard, his dark gaze meeting hers. “I think it would be a mistake to take on this case.”
“How absurd. We cannot turn down our first paying job simply because the eggs you ate for breakfast are rebelling.”
“After thirty years on the force, I’ve learned to trust my instinct.” He dipped his head, a sure sign his heels were digging in. “If you’ll remember, our policy is not to take on a case unless we are both in agreement. And I am not in this instance.”
Kit stared at her shoes, preferring to study the scuff on her left toe than swallow that hard truth. “And you will not reconsider?”
“No.” Her father’s big hand rested gently on her shoulder. “I know this hits close to home, but we cannot let emotion run our business or we will not have a business to run.”
A sigh deflated her. “Fine.” She lifted her face, jaw clenching. “But I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I.” Sincerity darkened the brown of his eyes. “We will pray God brings His conviction upon Mr. Coleman, aye?”
“And comforts Mrs. Coleman in the meantime.”
“That’s my girl.” He squeezed her shoulder then broke their huddle.
Mrs. Coleman spoke before they reached their desks. “So, you will take my case? I shall pay whatever fee is required. Funding is not a problem.”
Easing into her seat, Kit cut her father a sideways glance, begging with her eyes for him to field this one. Her throat was too tight to answer, her heart too sore to turn the woman down.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Coleman.” And he was. Kit could tell by the gruffness in his voice. “My colleague and I shall have to decline, no matter how much you are willing to pay.”
“But you do not understand. My child is in the hands of a fiend!” Rising, she closed in on Kit’s desk, gaze locked on to hers. “Please, Mrs. Forge. From one woman to another, you must know how desperate I am.”
“I do. Believe me, I truly do. No woman deserves such ill treatment.” Nor did the helpless babe. Kit rubbed her eyes.
Oh God, protect that little one.
It felt wrong helping the woman by prayer alone, yet her father was right. They had agreed not to field a case unless they were both of one accord.
Tearing off a bottom portion of paper, she quickly wrote down the address of the Old Jewry Police Station and handed it over. “You may find some help by going to the police and opening a missing person’s file. My husband is the chief inspector, and I know he shall do everything in his power to locate your husband and daughter. I cannot promise Mr. Coleman will return the child to you, but still, it might afford you an opportunity to speak to him with an officer present.”
Lips tight, Mrs. Coleman tucked the paper into her reticule. So much sorrow weighed on her that the petite woman looked even smaller than when she’d arrived. “Thank you, Mrs. Forge.”
Heart bleeding, Kit rose. Her father was right. This case did hit too close to home. “Allow me to see you to the door.”
The lady rummaged in the small bag on her wrist and pulled out a calling card, then pressed it into Kit’s hand. “If you change your mind, please contact me anytime. Day or night. I shall do anything to get back my baby girl.Anything.” Pain roughened her silky voice.
And stabbed Kit in the chest. Why was this so hard? Couldn’t their first client have been a simple background check on a potential employee or an open-and-shut case of insurance fraud?
She patted the woman’s arm. “God be with you, Mrs. Coleman.”
Valiantly fighting another round of tears, the lady nodded then scurried into the flow of pedestrians. Kit shut the door behind her, tucking the card into her pocket. With heavy steps, she sank into her chair, the shine of her first day as an enquiry agent dulled to an ugly grey.
“Now, now. Chin up.” Balling up his page of notes, her father arced it into the dustbin in the corner. “We’re off to a rough start, but there will be other cases. I promise.”
“I know.” She blew out a long breath. “Just a little bit of faith, eh?”
