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Charlotte turned to Collier. “Are you her boss?”
“Nope. Just the chauffeur.”
As people went, Charlotte was an open book. She looked around the restaurant, and I could practically read her thoughts. The place wasn’t busy. Overheads didn’t cover themselves. Should she kick us out and lose the income, or put up with our presence and hope we ordered the filet mignon? Finally, she sighed and picked up two menus.
“You can ask your questions, but I’m not going to answer them. Do you want a window seat? Or would you prefer the back?”
Once upon a time, I’d have picked the window seat so I could watch the world go by, but I’d dined out too many times with folks from work. Unless they were working surveillance, they always chose a spot near the kitchen and fought for the wall seat. Nobody liked their back to the door, and in an emergency, the kitchen offered weapons and a fast exit route. Boy, had my life changed in the past year.
I pointed to a table that fit the Blackwood criteria. “Can we have that one?”
“Sure.”
“Nice choice,” Collier murmured approvingly, and I was relieved not to come across as a complete amateur, even if I still felt far from being a pro.
“You used to be Kaylin’s roommate, right?” I asked Charlotte.
“You already know that, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“That’s true. Just trying to break the ice.”
“You did that when you broke Kev’s balls. Where did you learn to do that?”
“From my boss. She’s kind of a badass.”
“Your boss is a woman?”
I nodded. “Yup. Between you and me, I’ve had some bad experiences with men in the past.” Wisely, Collier hung back and let me talk with Charlotte. I had a feeling she’d appreciate honesty. “I’m not sure I’d have taken the job working for anyone else.”
Charlotte tilted her head a fraction. “And hot Santa? He’s really just a driver?”
“He’s a PI too, but I normally work out of Virginia, so he’s shepherding me around this week.”
“Right.” She digested the information as she led us to the table. “Who’s looking for Kaylin? I haven’t heard from the cops in years.”
“There are rules about client confidentiality, but he’s an old friend. Not a boyfriend—more like a brother, I guess. Kaylin’s mom had a brief relationship with his father.”
Charlotte spun to face me, eyes wide. “Wait, you mean Nico?”
My turn to be surprised. “She mentioned him to you?”
“Yes. I mean, not a lot, but one time we were talking about our childhoods, and she said she hadn’t always lived in a trailer park. And she told me about this crazy eighteen months she spent in Russia when her mom lost her mind and hooked up with some rich dude who lived in a palace, and the guy had a son who used to sneak Kaylin candy when she was miserable. Wow. Is it him?”
I had to weigh up gaining Charlotte’s trust against professional discretion, but I didn’t think Nico would be upset if I confirmed her suspicions. I nodded.
“She called him before she disappeared, and he’s never stopped wondering what happened to her. He did hire another investigator a while back, but the guy went on long-term sick leave without finding her. Natural causes,” I added hastily, just in case Charlotte thought that Crumb’s illness might somehow be connected with the matter at hand.
“I think he put a card in my mailbox once, but Anisha said I shouldn’t talk to anyone. Uh, so I probably shouldn’t be speaking with you.”
Crap. “Anisha Kapoor? You’re still in touch?”
“Only on Facebook. Different lives, you know?”
I did. I hadn’t kept in touch with any of my high-school friends, and now my besties were two women who’d been trafficked by the same psycho that made me work as a sex slave. The three of us had formed our own small support group. Three survivors.
We reached the table and Collier slid into a seat on the far side, back to the wall—so predictable—but I stayed standing.
“Normally, I’d agree that staying quiet was good advice, but this time, I’d be shooting myself in the foot.” I conjured up what I hoped was a sympathetic expression. “Nico’s just worried about Kaylin.”
