“I’m sorry, Miss Callahan, but there’s nothing we can do. It’s come from our Managing Partner, and I don’t have the reasons.” The lawyer’s discomfort travels clearly over the line. “There’s a clause in the retainer… written notice with or without cause… I’ll send you an email for the paperwork. I just… wanted to let you know.”
I blink back tears of frustration. There’s no point arguing, I know there isn’t. We were due to meet HM&L’s client tomorrow and get this whole thing off the ground. And now the rug’s pulled from under me, after all that work.
“Well. Um. Thank you for telling me.”
“If it were my decision,” he continues, “wewouldn’t be terminating. The team’s been very impressed by what you’ve done in such a short time. I hope we can work together again.”
“Thank you.” But somehow, that actually makes it worse. Theylikedme. It would almost be easier to swallow if they said ‘personality issues’ or ‘client’s withdrawn’ or somethingmeaningful. This just feels so… arbitrary.
“We’ll pay you for what you’ve done already, of course. Apologies again, Miss Callahan.” The line clicks dead.
I stare at my phone, then set it down beside my laptop. The HM&L folder is open on the screen. I hit the little X in the top right, and the desktop comes up instead: a pleasantly peaceful mountain scene.
I’m too numb to focus. That whole project, gone in one phone call. The middle of Tuesday afternoon, after spending yesterday and all last week on it. Allweekendon it. Far more hours than they will pay me for.
I’ll be lucky to clear two thousand. Not even enough to replace the seed money I’ve spent.
Which means I won’t be able to pay Alex back if he asks for it.Whenhe asks for it.
What have I got left? A couple of gigs, neither of which will make much difference. My small construction firm, who are being awfully quiet, and the background check on the daughter’s dodgy love interest.
Seventeen grand in my account that I can’t touch. A credit card to Alex’s account that Iwon’ttouch. $462.98in my personal account. With rent due to Carol, not to mention groceries and…
It’s insane. In the space of less than two weeks, I’ve gone from having more money than I know what to do with to having none.
Unless I take it from Alex.
It’s tempting. I admit it’s tempting. But I know damn well I won’t be able to look myself in the mirror if I do.
That leaves only one option: taking Lucy Anderson’s gig. It’s been preying on my mind since I met her. I still haven’t gone back and said no, partly because therightthing to do is to say yes. She needs someone’s help.
And I need the money.
Why did HM&L have to cancel?
I indulge in a few minutes of sulking. It doesn’t much help.
Then I sit myself down, pick up my phone, and call the number on the card she gave me.
“Hello?”
“Lucy? It’s Vicky.”
“Oh. Hello.” Her tone goes flat.
“I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get back to you. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I think I can help.”
Her answer comes fast. “But you were my last hope! If you don’t, no one will ever…” She trails off, pausing for the time it takes to blink twice. “Did you say yes?”
I smile, the raw relief in her voice confirmation that I’m doing the right thing. Or the wrong thing, but forthe right reasons. “Yes, I did.”
“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!” She clears her throat and sniffs. “And now I’m scaring the hell out of you by crying down the phone. I’m so sorry.”
“Not at all.” This is why I don’t do personal PI work. But with Lucy, I really feel I can make a difference. “Now, I’m going to need everything you have. Pictures, information, anything you haven’t told me, no matter how small. When can we meet?”
The evening passes in a miserable blur of ice cream (notBen and Jerry’s), Star Trek Next Gen, and Carol’s attempts at encouragement. We consume more wine than is healthy and giggle too much, though in my case, it sounds brittle. Lucy sends me what she has, and I look at it early the following morning, preparing to meet with her over lunch, near her office.
That session doesn’t add meaningfully to what she’s already told us, but at least I now know what Amelia looks like, and have a better idea of who she was before she married Lukas Van Wyk, the man who works for Northbridge.
