Page 14 of Played
Drake stands and shakes my hand. “Thanks. I promise I’ll try and find something more interesting for you.”
“Hey, I’m grateful for any work you can throw my way. I appreciate it.”
“No thanks needed, man. As soon as you said you were in New York, I knew I needed to get you in here. There’s a reason we call you Hotshot, and that’s because you’re the best at what you do.”
I can’t help but smile at the familiar nickname, although it seems like a while since I’ve felt like the best at anything. The shadow of my father’s disapproval is far too close when I’m in this city.
“Thankyou for meeting with me, Mr. Blackthorn.” Curtis Jones indicates the chair opposite, and I take a seat. My new potential client is a used-car salesman. Originally from Connecticut, he now lives alone in a New Jersey townhouse. Widowed. Father of one.
“No need to thank me,” I say. “Tell me what I can do to help.”
He inches forward, and the lines etched deep on his face make him look much older than his forty-two years. “I want you to find my daughter.”
I suspected this was the job he wanted to hire me for when I looked into him. He filed a missing persons report for Cassidy Jones thirteen months ago, and the cops uncovered a string of text messages between him and Cassidy which not only revealed they’d had a huge falling out over her choice to drop out of college and become an exotic dancer, but also that she threatened to leave the state and never speak to him again.
A week after her alleged disappearance, she paid off the remaining lease on her apartment using her credit card and gave notice she was moving out via email, which led the to the conclusion that she’d made good on her threat to leave. So they closed the case.
“I understand the police have looked into her disappearance and…” I stop speaking. There’s no delicate way to say this, and he’s clearly grieving.
“Yeah, I know what they say.” His nostrils flare, and he continues. “And yes, we had a huge fight. I didn’t always agree with her life choices, Mr. Blackthorn, but she was still my little girl. She threatened to stop speaking to me at least once every couple of months, but she would never actually do it. We madeup after that fight. She came to my place for dinner after. We were good.”
“Maybe this time she did mean it. Maybe it was a farewell dinner?”
His knuckles turn white. Curtis is a man with a temper, and he appears to be clinging to his last shred of it. “She’s a good kid. She would never be so inconsiderate to run away and never contact me again. Something happened to her.”
I shake my head. “If the police?—”
“Fuck the police!” he roars. “If she simply up and left, why is there no trace of her anywhere? Can you answer me that, Mr. Blackthorn? Yes, I know the bullshit about her lease, but someone could have easily stolen her card and sent that email if they had access to her phone. Four PIs I hired to track her down, and not a single one could find a shred of evidence as to her whereabouts. Not a credit card receipt, a doctor’s visit, traffic violation, or even a paycheck. Nothing!”
“Perhaps she simply doesn’t want to be found, Mr. Jones.”
He snorts a laugh. “She’s a twenty-one-year-old community college dropout, Mr. Blackthorn, not a criminal mastermind. We’re a working-class family. She doesn’t have the money to disappear like that even if she did have the know-how. That kind of ability to disappear is only afforded to those who can affordit, if you know what I mean.”
The accusation in his tone makes me bristle.
His right eye twitches. “There’s a reason I contacted you specifically, Mr. Blackthorn.”
I’m the best at what I do, asshole.But I have a sinking feeling that’s not the reason I’m sitting here today. I grind my teeth. “And why is that?”
“I know who you really are. Mr. Worthington.” He keeps his eyes on my face, waiting for me to react.
My insides churn, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of showing that the name gets to me. “And what? Would you like some kind of medal for your efforts? It’s no secret I changed my name, Mr. Jones. Anyone could look that up.”
Nodding, he places his forearms on the table and leans forward. “It’s not that you changed your name that interests me though—it’s why.”
My hands ball into fists at my sides, but I retain my calm exterior. “And why do you think that is?”
He goes on regarding me with curiosity. “I don’t exactly know, but I do know that you left New York eighteen years ago and that you changed your name shortly after. Took your mother’s maiden name, I believe.”
So he doesn’t know why I changed my name, but why is he fishing and why does it matter to him? “And?”
“I figure a guy does that because he actually hates his father and wants nothing to do with him, rather than a kid who’s simply mouthing off about it.”
“Like your daughter was?” I push back.
He simply nods. “We didn’t have the easiest relationship. It was just me and her after her mom died, and it was fucking tough raising a headstrong teenage girl. But we love each other, Mr. Blackthorn. She is all I fucking have.”
“So you reached out to me because you assume I actually do hate my father?” I ask, still not able to put all the pieces together.
