Only one year had passed, and things had already changed.
Morgan was now the proud father of a healthy young boy they’d named Robin Young. Rachel had been working hard at being a mom, and on the side, she’d been slowly converting the HUCINS charity into a for-profit organization. In spite of her claims that this was “selling out,” Morgan maintained that it was only natural to put a roof over their heads after all the effort she’d put in over all those years. Now, kids were being rehomed, and the Young family were feeling the financial benefits as well as the satisfaction of doing a good thing.
The PI business was nothing to sniff at either; Morgan had a steady flow of clients that each went on to recommend him to others. Before he knew it, his name was being passed around town as “a bright and enthusiastic man who goes the extra mile.” Morgan didn’t know about that, and although it got boring from time to time, he was happy with the balance between being a dutiful husband, an attentive father, and a professional. Everything was going his way, and with all that was going on, he felt like he could take on the world.
But nothing could have prepared him for what was to come.
It was a bleak Tuesday afternoon when the young woman arrived at his door. It was Rachel who let her in, showing her up to the office and asking her to take a seat. She found Morgan feeding Robin in the kitchen and explained that the girl was needing urgent help.
“Did she say why?” Morgan asked.
Rachel took the spoon from his hand and ushered him to one side. “No, but I have a feeling she’ll explain it to you. Go on up and take care of business. I’ll finish up here.”
Morgan didn’t argue. He went for the stairs and put his hand on the doorknob of his office, taking three quick breaths to prepare himself before he went into professional mode, as was his routine. The moment the door opened, a girl rushed out of the client’s chair, hurrying to shake his hand.
“Morgan Young?” she said. She was an attractive girl, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old with bright, inquisitive eyes that also held a measure of steel. He wasn’t sure why, but Morgan got the sense that she could handle herself.
“That’s me. And you are?”
“In need of help.”
“Sure.” He gestured to the seat, and she took it before he walked around the desk and slipped into his chair. “What exactly can I do for you?”
The girl tucked her hair over an ear and locked eyes with him. She wrung her fingers together, biting her lip between words. “I’ll get straight to the point. My father is missing, and I need help finding him. I’ve filed a report with the police, but you know how that usually goes. I wanted to explore other avenues, and your name came up, so I thought I’d pay a visit.”
Morgan watched her. He’d seen all the signs before: nervous clearing of the throat, shaking of the hands. It wasn’t communicating with a stranger that made her anxious—it was trusting someone else to find her father. “How long has he been missing?”
“Around four days now.”
“And you’re from Washington, DC?” Morgan grabbed a pen and opened his book, writing in all the details as they came to him. He’d grown accustomed to writing fast, and better yet, writing while talking.
“No,” the girl said. “He came here on business and hasn’t been back in touch.”
“I see. Is that unusual?”
“For sure. I mean, he’s kind of bad with technology, but he’s capable of working a phone.” She looked around the room, her hair shuffling over her shoulder as she turned her head in swift motions. “You haven’t been doing this for long, have you?”
Morgan paused, looking up from his book. “What makes you say that?”
“The setup in this place. Are you reliable enough?”
“I certainly think so.”
“Sorry.” The girl turned back to him. “I don’t want to be rude, but I’m hoping to hire someone who will find him. My father doesn’t trust a lot of people, and he always taught me to only work with people I trust.”
Morgan sat back in his chair, taking a deep breath. This case—if he was offered it, and if he decided to take it—was going to be a lot of work, he could tell. If not from the fact that it was a missing person’s case, which were always the hardest, then from the lack of trust this girl had for him. “He sounds like a smart guy, but look, I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. If you really want me to find him, I’ll do everything in my power to do so, but you’re going to have to trust me. Can you do that?”
The girl hesitated and then finally nodded.
“Good.” Morgan picked up his pen and took to the open book in front of him. “Then let’s start with some basic details, and we can work our way out from there.”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay. So, your first name is…?”
“Amy.”
Morgan scribbled it in. “Your father’s name?”
“Mason. The family name is Black.”
The name rang a bell. Morgan was sure he’d seen it plastered on the news over the years. Looking up across the desk, he studied Amy’s expression. It hadn’t changed—she still had the look of a nervous young woman who wanted to find her father, and judging by the fact she was sitting in Morgan’s office, he guessed she was more than a little desperate to find him. That suggested she thought he could be in some kind of trouble, and if that was the case he could be sure of one thing:
Finding Mason Black wasn’t going to be simple.