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“Where is Kalo?” she asks, walking toward me.
“Actually, I was hoping you could tell me.”
“You don’t know?”
She pulls her mouth to the side in annoyance and thought.
“I have been looking for him for a few days. He is not answering his phone and has not been back to his room.”
“Shit,” she mutters.
“When last did you see him?”
“He hired me to tail you, not himself. I was not keeping much of an eye on him, but we were in touch over the phone.”
“I see.”
“Look, just take my number and give me yours. If you hear anything, please tell me.”
We exchange numbers, and she turns to walk back to her car. “Wait, the girl I was with. Have you seen her?”
“Seraphina? No. Is she also missing?”
“Not missing in the same way Kalo is, but she seems to have taken some time to herself.”
“Well, I think it's best to give her time to herself, if that is what she wants?”
I nod, and Rea walks away from me. Her poise and elegance tell me she is far more dangerous than she looks.
“Rei.” She turns back again. “Would you be interested in working for me?”
“We can talk when you sort out all of your shit,” she grins darkly. “In the meantime, I'm close by, even when you don’t see me.”
I chuckle and nod again. I never see her. That is why I want to hire her. She is excellent at what she does.
“See you around.”
“See you around.”
I climb back into my car and continue my journey toward my father’s mansion.
The place is massive. My father loved extravagance, and he was loud about his wealth and status.
I have been here for most of the day now, going through the rooms and learning about who my father was as a person. From what I can tell, he was a complicated man. However, something that stands out to me is his love for my mother.
There are pictures of them in almost every room. The look on his face in every single one of those pictures is one of love, obsession even, the way his eyes are always on her, and the smile on his face. He loved her. It must have been a terrible thing he went through when he lost her.
In his office, the top drawer, the one he must have used the most - are folders filled with documents, all detailing the private investigators he hired and his search for me.
He has been searching for over ten years. Holding the folder in my hand, I sit down in his office chair. A lump forms at the back of my throat. My father was determined to find me. The folder contained the last email, which I printed out and added, and it was dated only a few weeks before he passed away. Even nearing death, he never gave up.
My mother gave nothing away regarding where I was; she never betrayed my safety, and my father never gave up looking for me.
Both of them loved me.
I wish I had followed my gut instinct and come out here to meet him before he passed away. Just once. I wish I had sat with him, had a whiskey, a chat, a laugh.
It's too late for such wishes now.
