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“I’d like to hire you. I can offer two hundred and fifty thousand to start. Once you find them, you’ll get the rest of the reward money.” Lyle put his briefcase on the table, pulled out a folder, and slid it across the table to Betty. She grabbed it and handed it to me.
“I wish we could help you, Mr. Lowenstein. But we have a few other projects on our plate at the moment, and we simply don’t have the manpower for a job of this magnitude. Besides, aren’t you working with the Feds on this?” Betty asked but didn’t give him time to answer. “Once they get involved, we always back off. Professional courtesy, plus too many cooks and all that.”
He gaped at her. “You’re turning down twenty million dollars?”
“A lot of money.” She nodded. “But one thing you should know about Bridge City is that money really isn’t the most important thing for us. I’d love to help, but I can’t.” With a shrug, she stood up and opened the door. Leanne waited on the other side.
“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Lowenstein.” Leanne’s voice was soft, almost demure.
“This is a mistake,” Lyle sputtered, his face turning red.
“If we hear anything, we’ll let the Feds know. Promise.” Betty held the door open a little wider. It took a few seconds for Lyle to realize he was getting kicked out within minutes of arriving. I had to stifle the smile that threatened to break my mask of indifference. How often did people tell him no? Rarely, I was certain. And women in particular? Probably never.
“You’ll regret this,” Lyle said and stomped out of the room. Betty followed him and was back a minute later. Adrienne and Tyler followed.
“Well? What’s he got?” Tyler asked impatiently.
“Nothing.” I shrugged, and this time I smiled big. “All the file had was dead-end leads, police reports, and three days of whereabouts from before she disappeared. He’s paying two different firms, one in New York City and one in Chicago, to follow up on them.”
We all released a collective sigh of relief.
* * *
I was wrapping up for the day when I remembered that I hadn’t checked my message board in a few weeks. I adjusted my blue light glasses and promised my burning eyes and growling stomach that I would take care of them in five minutes. Bringing up the encrypted web address, I logged into the board I’d created for social workers to anonymously report abuse that had been overlooked by the system. The most recent message was posted less than twenty-four hours ago and caught my attention.
Help. I’ve done everything I can. Even a few things I’m certain are illegal. But she’s stuck. She’s scared. She’s pregnant. She has nowhere to go. He’s completely isolated her. He will kill her if she tries to leave. He got close once, and he has friends in high and low places.
I clicked the attached pictures and gasped. Looked like my eyes and stomach would need to wait. Fingers flying over the keyboard, I dug through everything I could find on this woman.
The post checked out. She had no living family members, no one to turn to for help. I sent out a message and went to the conference room to wait for my team.
* * *
“No,” Tyler said. “Absolutely not.”
“What do you mean, no?” My glare bounced off her like she was made of impenetrable armor.
“Do you need me to say it in another language?” Tyler pushed off the wall and leaned on the table. “Adrienne, how do you saynoin Greek?”
“Knock it off,” Adrienne said, refusing to play along.
Tension was thick. So far, the only person to object was Tyler. Unfortunately she was also the loudest and hardest to convince once she set her mind on something.
When it came to missions like this, we all had to be a hundred percent on board, otherwise we didn’t do it. Tyler’s immediate refusal before I’d even finished explaining the situation made me want to throttle her. I didn’t understand. She was the only one of us, other than me, who understood what it meant to be afraid of home.
I pushed harder, confident I could convince her. “She’s local, only a half hour drive. It will be a quick and easy case around the neighborhood. Validate what the paperwork says, then we come back and plan. We don’t have to do it tomorrow.” Everything we did was meticulously planned, which I totally agreed with. But sometimes we took too long and didn’t get there in time.
“It’s too soon. Plus, Lowenstein was just here. After our rejection, he’s probably going to be looking for a way to get back at us. He’s too aware of our presence,” Izzy chimed in. With two vetoes on the table, I knew I was about to lose this one. “We already have someone we can’t move because of media attention. We don’t even have a place to hold another. Sorry, but?—”
Two loud knocks startled us.
Reaper loomed in the doorway, his attention locked on me. A hand shoved at his shoulder, pushing him further inside and revealing Boomerang behind him. The bruising on his face had started to fade, and he only seemed to have eyes for one person, but she didn’t acknowledge him. Midas stepped in and stood silently next to Reaper, his arm wrapped in a sling and bound to his body.
“Stopped by to say, uh, thanks. I tried before but no one let me up when I rang the doorbell,” my brother said, his scowl deepening. His eyes went to each one of us, giving us each a small nod to go with his words. He lingered on Chris, then nodded and muttered, “Christina.”
When he finally got to me, he tried to smile, but it looked wrong on his face. I couldn’t remember the last time my brother had given me a real smile. It didn’t really fit his surly personality, but what did I know? We barely spoke.
“What are you guys arguing about?” Reaper asked.
