was open. Keller could hear voices coming from inside.
Marie was seated behind another cheap desk. The wall behind her was sparsely decorated: her newly framed PI license, a couple of pictures of her in her police uniform, and a picture of her with her father that Keller remembered last seeing at her house. A picture of Marie’s son, Ben, smiled at her from a frame on the desk.
The woman seated across from Marie stood up and extended a hand to Keller. She was tall and broad-shouldered. She looked to be in her early forties, but there was a single broad streak of pure white in her wavy dark brown hair. “Tamara Healy,” she said. Her voice was a contralto roughened by tobacco and whiskey. “I’m with Black, Diamond, and Healy.”
Keller took the hand. Her handshake was firm, like a man’s: straight up and down, one pump, two pumps, release. She sat back down. Keller took the other chair.
“You’re a lawyer,” he said.
She gave a short laugh. “I thought Miss Jones was the detective,” she said.
Keller began to feel a vague sense of unease. He looked at Marie and cocked an eyebrow.
“Ms. Healy…” Marie began.
“Tammy,” the woman broke in.
Marie forced a smile. “Tammy has a client who’s involved in a custody dispute.”
Keller tried not to grimace. He knew Marie hated domestic cases. He didn’t blame her. They usually involved surveillance of husbands or wives suspected of fooling around. The suspicions proved true with depressing regularity.
“I’ll wait in the lobby,” Keller said.
“Pull the door shut as you leave, will you?” Marie said.
Keller did so. He took a seat at the empty reception desk. He looked around for something to read. There was nothing. Then Keller realized that he could hear the conversation on the other side of the cheap paneling almost as clearly as if he were in the same room.
“Problem is,” Healy was saying, “Dad’s run off with the kid.”
Keller grimaced. He didn’t really want to hear this. He got up and went to the window. No good. He could still hear the voices.
“Did you call the police?” Marie was saying.
“No,” Healy said. “Dad made his move before there was a custody order. With no court order, either parent has a right to the kid. No court order, no crime.”
“So get a court order.”
“We got one. But we can’t get it served. We’re not really sure where Dad is, either.”
“I can run a skip trace on him,” Marie said.
“Well, that’s where it gets a little complicated,” Healy said. “This guy isn’t your standard anything, Ms. Jones. He’s in the military, for one thing.”
“I can contact his unit…or is he AWOL?”
“No,” Healy said, “he’s not AWOL. At least as far as we know. But the Army won’t tell us anything. They act like he doesn’t exist.”
That got Keller’s attention. His pacing had brought him back to the office door. He knocked, then entered.
Marie looked up at him. “We should have sprung for the thicker paneling,”
Keller said. “I can hear every word you’re saying in here.”
Healy gave a sharp laugh. “Well, you might as well sit in, then.” A flash of annoyance crossed Marie’s face and Keller took the other client chair.
“So you know this guy’s military,” Keller said, “but no one will tell you anything about him. That can only mean one thing. He’s Special Ops, isn’t he?”
Healy nodded. “Delta.”
“Well, that’s it, then,” Keller said. “You won’t find him. It’s like pulling teeth to even get the Army to acknowledge there is such a thing as Delta, let alone tell you where any of their people are.”
“That’s where I was hoping Ms. Jones could help,”
Healy said. “And maybe you could as well. Scott McCaskill tells me you’re pretty good at finding people.”
Keller shook his head. “I bring in bail jumpers,” he said, “not commandos.”
“You’ve been in the military,” Healy said. “You speak the language. You know your way around.”
Keller snorted. “Scott obviously hasn’t told you everything,” he said. “I didn’t exactly leave the Army on the best of terms.”
“So you don’t want to help?” Healy said.
Keller looked at Marie. She refused to meet his eyes. The words he was about to say died in his throat. He had promised to be there for her. He had promised not to let his own demons drive them apart. He turned to Healy.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good.” Healy stood up and handed a file across the desk to Marie. “I’ll tell the client to call you,” she said.
She held out her hand. Keller stood up and took it. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Keller,” she said. She closed the door as she walked out.
Keller turned to Marie. “I can try calling—”
“Jack,” she interrupted, “what the hell are you doing?” Her voice was low and furious.
“Whoa,” Keller said. He held up his hands in a warding gesture. “If you don’t want my help, just say so.”
“Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “You don’t think I can handle it on my own?”
“I know you can,” Keller said. “It was Healy who brought it up. And she played me pretty well to get me to agree.”
“She’s a lawyer,” Marie said absently. “It’s what they do.” She rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. “Okay,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little…I don’t know, I’m trying to figure out where we are right now.”
“You’re not the only one,” Keller said.
She laughed.
“So you’re taking this one?” Keller said.
Marie spread her hands. “What am I supposed to do?” she said. “I’m trying to get a business off the ground, Jack,” she said. “I’ve got a kid of my own to feed and an ex who’s three months behind on his child support. I can’t turn down work.”
“Okay,” he said, “I’ll lend a hand.”
She stood up, slowly, grimacing slightly. She had been shot in the abdomen by the last person she had tried
