I’m scared that he recommended this guy and now he’s conveniently out of touch. I’m not close to the man—I don’t think heallowspeople to get close—but I know enough about him to understand that his focus is always on the power, the money. If it profited him to place a double agent in the role of private investigator, he’d do it without a thought.
There may be people in his life to whom Stefan is loyal but I don’t qualify. My guess is the only reason he’s helping us out now is because it ties us to him. It extends my part-time job—something I could have moved on from in a year or two—into a lifelong career.
That and we’re less likely to name him while being dragged from cage to court by the police.
“He looks like he’s sleeping rough and isn’t well acquainted with showers,” I say when a change of lights forces me to a standstill. “Apart from that, who knows?”
Caylon’s wise enough not to remonstrate me for my lack of knowledge after the fact.
“Finley talked with him one afternoon.” I grab my phone and dial before I can finish the whole thought.
When she answers, she sounds surprised. “You’re not calling to evict me, are you?” she babbles in her joyful tone. “Because I got to say, I could live with you and your dad forever.”
“The investigator,” I say, nearly dropping the phone as I have to hold it between my ear and shoulder while taking another skid-worthy turn. “Did he tell you where he lives or where he works or—”
Caylon rescues the phone before it can drop, putting the call on speaker, resting it on his knees while still working on his own device. “Was Rosa wearing her bracelet this morning? Do you remember?”
“The swanky could-pay-my-rent-for-a-year bracelet? Yeah, I’m pretty sure she had it on. I don’t think she’s taken it off for a second since he gave it to her.” There’s a pause. “And your name is?”
“Rosa’s in trouble,” I blurt, earning a stern glance from Caylon. “We’re trying to find her, but I think the PI might have picked her up in his car.”
“His car? You’ll probably find it broken down on the side of the road, then.” Her voice takes on a sharper edge. “And why do you care why the investigator you hired to protect her takes her on a drive?” And sharper still the demand, “What’s going on?”
“If Rosa gets in contact, call this number,” Caylon says. “We really need to get hold of her.”
“It’s not her mother, is it?” Finley’s voice chokes a little. “Oh, god. Should I cut my classes? I can get home and see if she’s there.” Then her voice breaks again. “Where are you?”
“Her mother’s fine,” I tell her but one glance at Caylon tells me he’s thinking the same. “We’ll get back to you if we hear anything and you do the same, yeah?”
“I… of course… but…”
He rings off and I grab my phone back, dialling a new number from memory before tossing it in his lap. “That’s the hospice.”
The receptionist sounds wary when Caylon asks for her room, and I comb my memory for information. “I’m her daughter’s boyfriend,” I tell her, not bothering to hide the panic from my voice. “That counts as family.”
“We haven’t got your name on an approved list.”
“You haven’t got a list at all because we only just moved her in there. My dad’s the one footing the bill. That should be proof enough of our relationship.”
It’s not.
“Put her on the damn phone or the next call to your facility is going to be from the police, informing her that her daughter’s dead.”
Perhaps it’s the panic. Perhaps it’s the money. Perhaps it’s close to the end of the shift and the poor woman can’t be bothered dealing with any more bullshit.
She connects through to the room and a male voice answers. Her nurse.
“She’s not really in a well enough state to—”
I’m about to yell again when I hear her in the background, fighting her own battles. The strident notes in her voice are so similar to Rosa that it twists something painful in my chest.
“What’s wrong?”
Caylon and I fill her in, minus the murders, long past the point of easing into the subject. “Anything you can tell us about him could be helpful,” I end with. “I know we asked you questions already but is there something more? Anything. Please.”
My voice cracks on the last word and I have to concentrate my attention back to the road before tears can mist my vision.
Stay in the moment. Emotions can wait.
