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He pressed his lips together and nodded. From the look he gave, she had an inkling he understood that feeling.
“Anyway, my father decided to retire so that he could devote his time to finding out what had happened. But he never did. He turned over every stone imaginable. I think it was his first time coming up with a case he was powerless to solve.” Daisy forced back thoughts of the many times she’d seen Edward Fortune, slumped over, face in his hands, sobbing like a baby. It had been a dark, dark time. “And about two years later, he found he missed the agency too much, so he opened it back up again.”
“Wow . . . and so you never found out what happened to your brother?”
She shook her head, remembering the last time she’d seen him, with his bag slung over his shoulder and his sunglasses on. He was a tall drink of water, lean and lanky, with an infectious smile and hair that always stood up near the part. “See you later, sis,” he’d said, blowing her a kiss. He’d just graduated, and been so full of hope for the future. He’d fallen in with a crowd of rich folks, hoping that those connections would be his ticket to an upper echelon. He was whip-smart, destined for great things, wanted to be an attorney himself.
Though he’d been quite a bit older than she was—nine years, to be exact— he’d always made time for her. On the day he left, Daisy remembered thinking that he was drifting away, choosing his friends over her.
Little did she know how far her big brother would drift. Once he walked out that door, she never saw him again.
“He’s been missing almost twenty years,” she said.
Zachary’s eyes went wide. Then he tapped on the table twice and shuffled to get out of the booth.
“You know, I do think I’ll go get that coffee.”
Just as she thought. Whenever the subject of her brother came up, people always wanted to know more. But the problem was, there was no more. Her father was the best in the business. He’d devoted almost ten years of his life to finding Charlie Fortune. He knew all the ins and outs of locating missing persons. He’d used every advanced technique at his disposal. And all he had to show for it was a file cabinet full of meticulously researched dead-ends.
She watched the attorney go up to the counter and pay for the coffee, wondering if he was going to be disappointed when she explained that to him. People always wanted to help, to come up with an avenue that might not have been explored. But where Charlie was concerned, she knew it for a fact—there was nothing more to be done.
If Edward fortune had failed, so, too, would everyone else.
Zachary returned a few moments later with a couple of Danishes, on a plate. He offered one to her. She took the lemon one as he said, “So what do you think happened to him?”
She shrugged. “Honestly? I think he must be dead. He wouldn’t go off and start a new life, without us. We were very close. He and my dad were the best of friends. No arguments at all. So as much as I hate to say it . . .”
Zachary nodded. “That had to be hard for your family.”
“It was. It is, even now. It never goes away, you just figure out how to live with it. But I know my father did everything in his power.”
“I’m sure he did,” he said.
She sipped her coffee, glad he wasn’t one of those who was going to try to solve her problem for her. Too many men did that. But that wasn’t the problem at the top of her mind right now. “Have you spoken to the Vandiveers?” she asked, changing the subject. “How are they doing?”
He shrugged. “I have. They’re doing well. Moving on. Haven’t you been in touch with them? You mentioned that they were grateful and might throw you some more work. Plenty of cheating spouses among that set. I thought for sure you’d be jetting out to Europe again, even before me.”
“Unfortunately, nothing yet. But I’m sure if he knows someone who needs me, they’ll be in touch,” she said.
“I’m sure. They told me again and again how grateful they were that you solved the case of their son’s murder.”
Just then, her phone rang. She reached for it, about to put it on silent. Despite his awkwardness, and the lack of an initial romantic spark on her end, she found she actually enjoyed talking to Zachary. He was disarming and kind and easy to pour her heart out to.
But as she stared at the display, she realized it was an unfamiliar number, forwarded from the office.
Strange,she thought.Her phone in the office never rang, unless . . .
Unless it was a potential client.
And if it was a promising lead, that was more important than a good conversation.
She held up a finger. “Sorry. I think I should take this. It could be new business.” She pressed the phone to her ear. “Fortune Investigations.”
The unfamiliar voice was so brash, it nearly blew out her ear. “Is this Fortune? The PI firm?”
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“Yes. This is Goldie Tate. My husband has been murdered, and I need you to help me nail the little gold-digger who did it.”
