She winced. “I’m not sure? Since last night definitely. He was going to pick me up after I got off work at eleven, but he never showed. He’s not answering his phone, and I talked to his college roommate, but he says he hasn’t seen him since yesterday afternoon. I just know something awful has happened to him.”
I glanced at the clock on my computer. It was barely ten in the morning. No wonder the police had sent her away. Her boyfriend had been seen less than twenty-four hours ago.
“And he’s never missed a date before?”
She shook her head. “Not without calling. This isn’t like him. We’ve been together since my junior year. I know him. He wouldn’t just not contact me.”
To me, someone who’d been out of college for a while, being together since junior year of high school sounded like a long time, but I was guessing it wasn’t in this case. “He’s in college now, and you are . . . ?”
“A senior in high school.” She crossed her arms over her chest, sulking that I’d questioned her age, which only made her look younger. “But look, here are the texts he sent me yesterday afternoon.” She tapped on her phone again before passing it to me. “I know something is wrong. If you will investigate, I want to hire your firm. If you won’t, tell me now so I can find someone else and neither of us wastes our time.”
I read over the texts she’d pulled up. They were gagworthily sappy, but it sure sounded like he’d planned to pick her up last night. Of course, he could have been going through the motions of the script they’d made in high school while having outgrown his high school sweetheart now that he was in college. Or maybe I was just cynical about relationships.
Taylor leaned forward, the pink of her lips almost invisible as she pressed them together, waiting for me to answer. She looked earnest, scared but hopeful. I sighed.
“Okay,” I said, handing her back her phone. “But before we go any further, let me break down the fees and contract for you.” Because this was going to be one very expensive broken heart if it turned out he was fine but dumping her.
“I’m good for the money. I’ve been saving for a car.”
Great, because that didn’t make me feel guilty at all. But this was a business, not a charity, so I dug through my desk drawer until I found the boilerplate “search and recovery” contract my partner and I had drafted. Rianna, my business partner, had taken a couple of lost item cases, and even one lost pet, but I’d never used this particular contract, and neither of us had taken a missing-person case before.
The contract was fairly simple, laying out how charges and fees would break down. The retainer covered the initial tracking spell as well as the first five hours spent on the investigation. Taylor’s eyes bulged a bit at the number, and I considered knocking it down to a two-hour charge, but it would be better to refund her some of the retainer if Remy turned up quickly rather than bill her for more later if tracking him proved difficult.
After she’d signed the contract and I’d processed her debit card, I once again examined the haul she’d spread on my desk.
“Did he wear the shirt last or did you?” I asked, lifting the crumpled T-shirt that looked like it had been slept in more than once.
“Uh, me. But it is his.”
“And the ring?”
“I’ve been wearing it on a chain around my neck since early summer.”
Which left the origami flower. I motioned to it. “Did he make this himself? How long ago?”
Her shoulders lifted in a slight wince. “Our first date?”
Which meant it had been over a year since Remy had touched the paper. Technically, a tracking spell could be worked with nothing more than a name or photo, but the working would be a lot more precise with something to focus the spell. Hair, fingernail clippings, blood, or the like were the preferred focus, but a personal item that the person used often or carried with them would work as well. Unfortunately, all the items on my desk would likely lead back to Taylor.
“It would be helpful to have something a little more personal to him—a toothbrush, a comb, an article of clothing only he’s worn, or something of that nature.”
Taylor’s lips screwed sideways as she thought, and then her eyebrows lifted, her face brightening with a thought. She opened her bag and dug around inside. “He used my brush just this weekend.”
She pulled a bright pink, soft-bristled brush from her purse and held it out toward me triumphantly. Clearly the words “personal” and “only he uses” hadn’t quite registered. Then again, Taylor had long bottle-blond hair, and even with my bad eyes, I could see short, dark hair mixed in her brush.
“Remy is the only other person who has used this brush? You’re sure?” I asked, because I wasn’t digging hair out of someone else’s brush only to have the spell lead to one of her school friends.
“I’m positive.”
She answered a little quickly for my taste, but it was the best possibility we had available. I accepted the brush but then hesitated. An evidence bag, or even just a plastic baggie I could write on, would be useful in a situation like this, but as it had never come up before, I didn’t have either in my desk. After a moment’s indecision, I placed the brush in my top desk drawer. Then I opened a document on my computer and collected Remy’s full name, phone number, and current address. As an afterthought, I jotted down his roommate’s name and number as well, as I’d almost certainly have to contact him.
“Well, that should get me started,” I said, saving the document.
“You’ll start looking immediately, right? Can I wait here while you cast the tracking spell?” Taylor asked, perching on the edge of her seat again.
“My business partner will be the one who casts the spell.” Because my traditionally witchy spells were notoriously unreliable. “But I’ll follow it, and we don’t know yet where it will lead, so there is little point in you staying here, which is one place we know for sure Remy is not located.”
“Oh. That makes sense, I guess.” She rose to her feet, but she didn’t move toward the door.
“Go home in case he tries to contact you. I’ll call as soon as I have information.”
She nodded and trudged toward the door, as if hoping I’d stop her if she hesitated long enough. I had nothing more to offer, so I didn’t stop her. Instead, I escorted her out of my office and across the Tongues for the Dead lobby. At the main door she hesitated again.
“You’ll let me know as soon as you find something?”
“That’s what you’re paying me to do.”
“Right.” She gave me a weak smile, but she nodded, and then, hiking her bag higher on her shoulder, she marched up the sidewalk.
Once she was gone, I turned and glanced at Rianna’s door. It was closed.
“Is she out or—?”
“With a client,” Ms. B said in her typical gruff manner.
I nodded, not taking offense at being cut off. That was just the brownie’s way. By all accounts, she liked me. I’d hate to think how she’d act if she didn’t.
As I reached my office, Rianna’s door opened. I turned in time to see a man of about fifty step out of her office. He wore a dark suit, as if he’d just come from a funeral, but he was dry-eyed. In fact, he was smiling. When he saw me, he dipped his head in a friendly nod. He even smiled at Ms. B before heading out to the street, his well-manicured hands clasped behind him.
I watched him stroll past our large picture window before I turned to Rianna, one eyebrow lifted.
“Lawyer,” she said with a shrug.
That made sense. He definitely didn’t have the look of a bereft loved one.
“Interesting case?” I asked, and Rianna wrinkled her nose as she shook her head.
“Insurance dispute. But it should be a quick case. I’m guessing an hour at the graveside this afternoon. Two at most.”
“Fun,” I said, and she shot me a dirty look.
Insurance and probate cases were basically the bread and butter of our firm. Someone contesting the validity of a will, second-guessing the deceased’s wishes, or an undetermined cause of death suspected of being caused by something that would invalidate an insurance policy. They tended to be high-tension cases for the families, and sometimes rather drama-filled at the graveside, but they weren’t particularly demanding on us as investigators. We raised the shade and repeated the questions from the family and lawyers and then put the shade back. Regardless of the outcome, our part was done after that.