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“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he began after the introductions had been made and everyone was sitting down. He cast a dubious eye at the long line of patrons. “Did you want some coffee?”
Casey followed his gaze to the line of people snaking from the door to the counter, and she gave a wry grin. “Not unless we want to postpone this meeting for a week. Let’s get down to business. Why did you want to see us?”
Jones interlaced his fingers in front of him. “You’re conducting an investigation into Paul Everett. More specifically, finding Paul Everett. I personally closed that file. So I’d like to know what makes you believe he’s alive. Did you find something we may have missed?”
“I assume this conversation was prompted by the YouTube video?”
“Yes. It’s pretty hard to miss.”
“We didn’t make it or give our consent to have it made,” Casey clarified. “It was all done by our client on her own initiative. We didn’t even know the video existed until after the fact.”
“Why was your contact information withdrawn and replaced by a toll-free number?”
“For privacy and proper handling of phone calls.” It was Marc who answered. “Trust me, Detective, if there were any content issues, we would have demanded the video be pulled—or dropped our client. We’ve done neither. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, we’re just hoping the video brings in more donors to check for possible matches—a long shot, but one that we agreed could at least make Amanda feel like she’s doing something.”
“So my question remains,” Jones said. “Do you believe that Paul Everett is alive?”
“Yes,” Casey stated flatly.
“What proof do you have?”
“We have a photo of a man that our facial recognition software tells us is Everett—a photo that was taken within the past few weeks. We have at least one person who believes she’s seen Everett regularly and recently. And we have strong professional gut instincts that convince us he’s alive.”
“Gut instincts?” Jones’s brows went up. “That hardly constitutes evidence. What are you basing these instincts on?”
“Experience—and me.” Claire spoke up for the first time. “I don’t know how much research you’ve done into the FI team, Detective Jones. But I suspect it was thorough. In which case, you know that I’m an intuitive. And there’s not a doubt in my mind that Paul Everett is alive.”
There was that typical look of skepticism that Claire had learned to expect—and to ignore.
“We’re a private investigative firm, Detective Jones,” Casey reminded him. “You require hard evidence. We don’t. We’re not going to court. We’re trying to find a dying infant’s father.” She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table and folding her hands under her chin in an aggressive stance. “But let me turn the tables. What solid evidence do you have that Paul Everett is dead?”
Jones’s eyes narrowed. “I believe you called and made some police inquiries already. So you have your answers.”
“I do. And everything I heard was speculative, suggesting, but not proving, a no-body homicide. Without a corpse, all you can do is draw a logical conclusion. But not a concrete one.”
That one made Jones visibly uncomfortable. “Is your theory that the man’s been walking around with amnesia for the past eight months? Or that he’s in hiding?”
“Amnesia isn’t really on the table,” Marc replied with the same note of sarcasm in his tone as Jones had. “Other than that, anything is possible. I’m sure you checked out Everett’s background, his business dealings, his potential enemies and his friends and colleagues. There could be dozens of reasons for his disappearance. But, frankly, that’s your problem. Ours is just finding him.”
Jones’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Withholding evidence is a crime, Mr. Devereaux.”
“And discussing our case is unethical, Detective Jones. Casey just told you the only solid evidence we have. If we had more, we’d be sharing it with you. I was an FBI agent. I know the law.”
Casey had to bite back a smile on that one. Marc knew the law, all right. He also knew how to break it.
“We’re the least of your concerns, Detective,” Casey said aloud. “We have no plans of hiding any evidence from you that we stumble upon. But we will keep hunting down Paul Everett. And I believe we’ll find him. In the meantime, you have more pressing problems to contend with. A few
hours ago, Congressman Mercer met with the media and made a personal appeal to find blood donors for our client’s infant son—an appeal that will make the evening news cycle. Once that happens, and once people start putting together the YouTube video and the congressman’s plea, your phone will be ringing off the hook. So I hope you have all your ducks in a row—and a good media person. You’re going to need it.”
Jones’s lips tightened. “Thank you for the advice, Ms. Woods.”
“Anytime.” Casey rose, placing her business card on the table. “Call us if you have any further questions. And we’ll do the same with you.”
* * *
Jones watched Casey, Marc and Claire leave. He waited until they’d walked their bloodhound, then climbed into their van and driven away.
He entered a number on his cell phone and pressed Send.
