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“Probably not. I’m guessing he was just pissed I couldn’t focus all my energy on him and had a man tantrum. You know how some guys are?”
“You are a saint to put up with all this crap. But the thing about saints is, a lot were martyrs first. I’m so glad you got out,” Lorelei responded.
That made me smile for real. “So am I.”
After a quick catch up about what was going on in her life, we ended the call with a promise to meet up for coffee next week.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket with a sigh. I had a pile of work to do, which was lucky because I needed the distraction. It wasn’t just the whole Alan thing, it was restraining myself from making a fool of myself with Gregor.
I went down to check the mail and came back up with a handful, most of which looked like junk. Then I found a letter from Chicago PD. Just the sight of it made me go cold. I braced myself and opened it, my belly fluttering with sudden tension. I knew what it probably was, but that didn’t make the truth easier to face.
It was the official case suspension notice. They were stopping all work on looking for my daughter due to lack of leads. What a joke. I was a complete amateur and knew there was more information out there that the cops weren’t following up on. Gregor was out chasing it down right now.
Fucking cops. I bet they would still be on the job if I was rich. Hell, Alan might have kept at it if I had kept sleeping with him. Corrupt and useless, all of them.
But Gregor wasn’t. He couldn’t be. I had to trust that I didn’t need the police anymore. That my mystery lover had it all in hand.
***
I had finished all of my work and was making dinner when my phone rang. I wiped off my hands and checked the screen. It was Gregor. I smiled and answered the call.
“I want you to know that I’m looking into the Ivanovs today. They don’t seem to have any criminal ties that I have been able to discover, but they do have a lot of family in the area. With so many missing kids, I’m surprised no one looked into them before.”
“I thought they might be connected, or rich enough to pay a big bribe to the cops,” I admitted as I tucked the phone between my shoulder and ear and gathered a bun and condiments. “That was the only thing I could think of. It’s such an obvious lead, but they just missed it.”
“Never assume malice, when incompetence is far more possible. That and apathy. Cops in Chicago rarely have clean hands or unlined pockets. Those who keep it by the book don’t last very long. There are reasons I’ve always worked in the private sector, and never become a cop.”
“Had you thought about going to the police academy?”
“Once, a long time ago. I was young then, didn’t know how the world actually worked. But we’re living in reality, not in somemovie where law enforcement are heroes.” I heard him take a deep breath, then he said, “I’m waiting on about fifty phone calls and it doesn’t matter if I’m in my office when I get them. Do you want me to come over, talk about all of this in person?”
My stomach did a little flip, and I had to take a few breaths before I could answer. I looked around my meager two-room apartment, suddenly embarrassed by its smallness, its poverty. But I had nothing to be ashamed of. If Gregor was the type to judge me for not having much money right now, I would know not to hope for anything long term with him.
“Yeah, sure. Come on over. Have you eaten? I’m just about to grill a hamburger for myself, I can make you one too?”
“Thanks, I just ate so don’t worry about me.”
“Okay,” I gave him the address, unable to remember if I had given it before. “Just dial up when you get here.”
As soon as he hung up, I turned and hastily assembled my dinner and ate it as quickly as possible. Then I rushed around picking up clutter, doing my few dirty dishes, running a comb through my hair, and checking my makeup. I couldn’t help the size of my apartment, but I wanted to be presentable.
It took him about twenty minutes from ending the call to knocking on my door—impressive in Chicago traffic. I checked the camera feed to make sure it was Gregor. He was imposing in a heavy overcoat and boots, both in black. He looked like he was a bodyguard for a Russian attaché, not a private investigator with a modest office. I felt a little weak in the knees as I let him in.
He glanced around as he stepped inside, the apartment seemed almost smaller with his giant form taking up space here. I took his coat and hung it up over my new one while he stood looking around. He didn’t frown, or comment, or give me a pitying look, only smiled and reached out for my hands in his usual greeting.
“How are you holding up?” he asked me kindly, and I smiled.
“Glad to see you. I just wish the circumstances were better,” I said with a little embarrassed laugh.
He nodded, smile fading slightly as he stared thoughtfully at me. “As do I. But we will rectify the problem and get you your daughter back.” He moved to the small couch at my invitation and settled onto it. “I don’t suppose you have any hard liquor? The end of my nose is still frozen from the wind.”
I smiled and went to retrieve the single bottle of scotch that I had, a gift from a friend from last Christmas. I had squirreled it away like a treasure, not wanting to refuse or regift it but knowing I wasn’t about to drink even a drop of it. Alcohol was still about as pleasant as cough syrup to me, and I doubted that would ever get better.
He chuckled when I only brought one glass. “Still not a drinker?”
“Never got the hang of it. I’ve wondered if I have some kind of sensitivity to it or something, but it may just be that I can’t stand the taste.” I smiled awkwardly. “I guess it doesn’t help that I was either pregnant, breastfeeding, or raising a small kid for most of that time.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Uncertainty? Concern? Did he suspect Michelle was his?
