but you’re hurting your chances of finding Savannah by hanging on to this. I understand what it means to your wife, but you need to listen to me.”
He threw both of his hands into the air. “I thought if I paid you to do a job, you’d have to do things my way. I’m the client. You work for me.”
I pushed my chair back and stood up. “I work for myself. And I don’t appreciate you treating me like I’m some factory worker you can order around just because you’re waving a wad of cash in front of my face.”
“Now, hold on a minute. Listen—”
Breathe, Sloane, breathe.
“No, you listen. If I agree to take your case, and by ‘agree,’ I mean, I make the decision—not you—I’ll stick with it until it’s solved or I’m certain there’s nothing else I can do. You can take it or leave it, but I’ll tell you one thing—you’ll never find another PI with the same kind of devotion that I have.”
The way his face twisted up while I talked told me he hadn’t been spoken to that way by a woman very often, if ever.
“Wow, you sure think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”
“Here’s how it works with me,” I said. “If I decide to take your case, you’ll comply by doing exactly what I want you to do when I want you to do it. You have the right to refuse, giving me the right to walk away. I will never ask you to do anything that isn’t in your best interest. And if you want my help finding out what happened to your daughter, I suggest you accept my offer.”
He shook his head. “This isn’t how I thought our conversation would go at all. I’m not sure…”
“You thought money would allow you to call the shots,” I said. “Making money is great, but I choose cases based on what interests me. Perhaps we both should take some time to think about what we’re getting ourselves into.”
Although I meant every word of it, my insides burned. I had every intention of looking into the case of both missing girls, whether he decided to be my client or not. Mr. Tate remained silent. I assumed he was second guessing our arrangement. I took the money out of my bag and chucked it across the table. It landed half on his lap—and half on the seat he was sitting in.
He snatched the envelope and stood up. “Wait just a minute. Don’t go—please.”
“If I’m not the right fit for you, Mr. Tate, I understand,” I said.
His shaking hand rubbed his watery eye. “Ms. Monroe, can you imagine what it’s like to lose the one you love, and just when you’ve given up, something happens that gives you renewed hope? I wish you could understand what it feels like.”
I thought of my sister, Gabby, and the emotions I’d experienced when I learned she’d been captured and murdered by a serial killer who had no regard for human life. A serial killer who later ended up dead when he learned what happened when you messed around with the wrong girl’s sister.
“You do know what it’s like,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes. You lost someone too, didn’t you?”
“My sister.”
“How then can you ask me to hand over a part of my daughter? This paper is the only connection to her existence that I have left.”
I sighed. I didn’t want to empathize, but I couldn’t help it. But he’d still have to let go of the paper sooner or later if he expected to ever see his daughter again. Connecting the two murders would reignite the flame in both cases.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “I’ll accept you as a client. But, if I find any new evidence, you agree to hand the page over without question.”
He let it sink in for a moment before responding and then said, “You have my word.”
“Good. I need to go home and get my things together. I’ll be in touch.”
He walked over, throwing his arms around me unexpectedly. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I didn’t mean to be so hard on you. These last few months have been rough. Losing my daughter is hard enough, but lately it feels like I’m losing my wife too.”
I leaned back, breaking from his embrace. “You have every right to be on edge right now. But I need you to remember, I’m not the enemy. I’m here to help you, and