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up. “Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled to myself. “Good to hear from you too, sis.”

“It’s decided then?” Bridget asked. “You’re calling each other sisters now?”

“I’m still test driving it,” I said, shrugging. “Feels wrong, though.”

Tech rolled his eyes.

Chapter Eight

CHARLIE

Sunday, 8:45 a.m.

Two hours later, the last batch of cops left my apartment. I carried the empty pastry box into the kitchen and jammed it into my trash can, using my foot to stomp it down. The sink was full of dirty coffee cups, but I’d wash them later. I turned off the coffee pot and walked out, finding Spence standing there with his hands perched on his hips and a pissed off look on his face.

“Your files and phone are over there,” I said, pointing at my desk in the living room. “Thanks for letting me borrow them.”

“We both know I didn’t let you borrow them.”

“Oh, I must’ve misunderstood.”

He pursed his lips, but crossed the room to gather his stuff. “What’s the deal with the herd of cops?” He shoved his phone in his back pocket and piled the folders under one arm. “They made me wait an hour before I could enter the building.”

“A junkie was murdered.”

“Damn. I thought my neighborhood was bad.” He looked around my sparse living room and then down at my worn orange carpet. “Why the hell do you live in this dump? I ran your background this morning. I know you can afford one of those nice beachside condos.”

“And be surrounded by snobby couples who name their poodles things like Muffy and Fluffy?”

He chuckled as he set the folders on the table and sat. “You could borrow Beast to scare the neighbors away. He hates poodles.”

I slid back into my chair. “What’s your plan with Evie’s case?”

“Honestly? I don’t have a plan. The truth is, I need the money.”

“How good of a PI are you?”

He leaned back in his chair, looking defeated. “I’m better than the cases I’m getting. Hell, I’m a one-man act and I know I’m better than most of the big firms. But without a fancy office, I’ll never attract decent clientele.”

Having read his case files, I already knew he was thorough. He never would’ve found Evie if he wasn’t attentive to small details and committed to his work. She made one mistake, calling her aunt from a pay phone at the bus depot. She thought it was safer than using her burner phone. Once Spence had an address he started digging into apartments and bars in the neighborhood and searched in an outward circle until he found her.

“Wait here,” I said, standing and walking down the hall. In the bedroom, I opened the safe in the back of my closet, pulling out an envelope. I returned to the dining room and tossed the envelope to Spencer. “I’ll pay your finder’s fee in exchange for your silence.”

He opened the envelope and flipped through the stack of hundreds. “If I fire him as a client, he’ll know I found her. He’ll just hire someone else.”

“It might buy me some time. And he’s already in town. His burner phone bounced off a tower in south Miami this morning.”

“Shit.”

“It’s fine. I made a few calls and had Evie relocated. She’ll be safe until I straighten this out. Just keep the information you found to yourself.”

He glanced at the stack of files. “We both know my dog Beast is easily persuaded to allow strangers inside my house. You should keep the files.” He moved the pile of folders to the center of the table. “I’ll forward you my electronic records and then delete my copy. Since you’re the client now, so it’s only right that you’d get them.”

“And if they come after you directly for the intel? Try to force the information from you?”

“I can handle myself,” he said with a glimmer of excitement as if he’d welcome the confrontation. He held the envelope up. “You sure about this?”

“You solved the case. It’s only right you get paid. And we both know I can afford it.”

“When I ran your background, I saw the bank account balances, but I couldn’t track the income source. The monthly wire deposits led me down an endless maze of shell companies.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Is there a question?”

“Would you tell me where the money comes from if I asked, or should I keep digging?”

I smirked but didn’t say anything.

“Fine. I’ve got better things to do with my time anyway,” he said, pulling a few business cards from his wallet and dropping them on the table. “If you could pass my card to anyone interested, I’d appreciate it. I get the feeling you have a few contacts that could afford my services.”

“I know some people—who know even more people. It’s called networking.”

He emptied all the cards from his wallet onto the table. “I’ll bring a box of cards next time.”

“Next time?”

“Positive thinking.” He left, carrying only the cash envelope.

I picked up one of his business cards and took a picture of it before texting it to my business and investment contacts. After that, I forwarded it to all my police contacts before programming his name and number into my phone’s contact list.

Gathering the pile of cards, I took them to the kitchen and dumped them into the overflowing junk drawer. I was about to head off to bed when my phone chirped. I spent the next hour fielding questions via text messages as people inquired about his services.

My coffee cold, my neck kinked, and my eyes starting to cross, I set the phone down and decided I’d finish the rest of the messages later. I stretched my arms over my head and yawned.

My phone rang. I sighed and picked it up, seeing Spence’s name on the display.

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