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Alissa
By the time that I woke up the next morning, my fundraiser had gathered a total of one hundred and five thousand dollars. I had no idea who was making the donations, none of them were people I had ever heard of, though a few had Russian names.
It was incredible. That was more money than I would take home in two years. There would be a tax bite taken out of it, of course, but still, this was life changing.
I was still doing my work around the building—thankfully, the parts had arrived so now I just had to wait for the maintenance operator to fix two sinks and change out an oven in another apartment—while putting in a full day for my accounting clients. It was amazing how much more energy and focus I had without the constant pressure of wondering how I would afford things distracting me.
The only frustration was that I still hadn’t found a private investigator. Only a few had answered my calls or returned my messages. Most of the ones I had gotten to talk to had been too busy to pick up a new client, or they were unwilling to take such a case.
One had even confessed, “Look, I feel for you, I do, but investigating a potential kidnapping ring is way above my pay grade. I mostly follow cheating husbands around with my camera.”
I wasn’t discouraged, but I was a little disgusted with the cowardice. The guy who had made the confession had a deep, rumbling voice like he was the size of a small truck, but face any actual risks? Save any actual lives? That was a cop’s job.
But the cops weren’t doing their damn jobs. They expected she was dead. They didn’t care about the evidence, or the bigger picture, or her life, or my life. We were nothing to them but a nuisance who had refused to go away. Once this was all over, I was definitely going to expose them. I may do it on my way out of Chicago, but I’d do it.
I was just finishing crossing another investigator’s name off my list when my phone rang. I jumped a little and saw another unknown number.
I hesitated. There was a good chance that this was just Alan, sauced up and deciding that being an asshole to me again was a good use of his time. What the hell was with guys who decided they hated a woman and responded by pestering her instead of cutting her out of their lives? Men like that seemed to have the brains of five-year-old pigtail-pullers, acting like annoying, combative little pricks while at the same time desperate for a woman’s attention.
I answered the call on the off chance it wasn’t him. “Hello?”
“Alissa?”
I froze. That voice. I knew it! I had even dreamed of it recently, murmuring in my ear in the midst of passion. “Dimitri?” I asked breathlessly.
“Ah, good, this is the right number. Yes, it is I. This must come as a surprise.”
“That’s an understatement,” I managed after a moment. I felt lightheaded. What was I going to tell him? How was I going to say it?Hi, Dimitri, long time no talk. By the way, we have a daughter together. Except she’s been missing for almost a year, and the police are being useless.No, I was definitely going to have to come up with something less blunt. “What’s going on? How did you get my number?”
“You posted it on your donation site,” he said gently, and I felt a lump form in my throat.He knows. He knows already that my baby is missing.
“O-oh.” I swallowed hard. “Well, it’s good to hear from you. Why are you calling?”
“It’s about your daughter,” he ventured, and I heard just the tiniest hesitation in his voice. “You see, a friend of mine donated and told me about your site, that you were looking for a PI. I checked it out and realized that it was you. I’ve already donated, but I was wondering if you’ve found an investigator yet.”
That explained the Russian names.
“No, I haven’t,” I said hurriedly. “None of the ones who had time for me wanted to take on a potential rescue mission, especially if the police aren’t involved.”
He scoffed. “The police. Hands tied by budgets, caseloads, politics. I’m not surprised they’re being useless.”
“Why are you asking?” I tried not to hope he was offering help. I hoped anyway.
“Well, I’ve transitioned out of private security. I have a private investigator’s license now, and an office in your area. If you wanted to meet—”
My heart leaped. “Hell yes, I want to meet!” Then I realized how that sounded. “Um, I mean, yes, I’d like to talk about the case with you.” Holy crap, I must have sounded like the thirstiest woman on the planet for a moment there.
He chuckled in that low, sexy way that I remembered, and I shivered and clenched my thighs together. How had he gotten so good at that? Or was he unaware of what he did to me while barely even trying? “Good, good. I think I can be of some help to you. When is a good time for you to come by my office?”
I took a deep, shivery breath to try to calm myself, but my whole body vibrated with pent-up energy suddenly. “Well, depends on where it is. I could come over right away, if you want.”
“The sooner, the better. The police have already wasted enough of your time.” His voice was warm, understanding, but with a fierce undertone of protectiveness. I felt a warm flush run all through me.
He gave me the address and we hung up. I put every scrap of information I had gathered about Michelle’s disappearance and the other missing girls, as well as the Ivanovs, on a thumb drive, and set out right away.
It was late enough in the morning that the last patches of ice had melted back into broad puddles with crackled edges. I avoided them, wary of slipping in my haste to get to my car and get over to Dimitri’s office. I couldn’t believe my good luck. Not only had he noticed the fundraiser, but he had linked it to me, donated generously, and now he was willing to take the risky job of actually tracking Michelle down. Kind of ironic that I’d end up paying his retainer in his own money. But whatever worked. I was just super glad he was so willing to help me.
The wind was high again, pushing cars around on the slicker parts of the road, making them rock uncomfortably otherwise. I drove carefully in this crazy weather, Alan used to say I drove like an old woman, but he had nearly gotten us into two crashes in four months thanks to aggressive driving and stubbornness.
