woman using him? Had he pegged her wrong when he’d thought she’d never manipulated men before?
This was fast becoming a big waste of time. He didn’t need any more evasive people in his life, not after dealing that last time with his own parents. “Look, Kristin, I can’t find a person with such vague information.”
“What I’ve told you isn’t vague, Mr. Black.”
“Call me Zane.”
“Fine. I told you her name, as I know it, and a basic description. She’s somewhere in Montana.”
“Which is a big state. How do you know she’s here?”
“An acquaintance told me.”
The person she’d spoken to a moment ago, the one who’d seemed to have dropped a bombshell? “And this person couldn’t tell you anything more than that?”
“No.”
“Have you begun to search for her by yourself?”
Color seeped into her cheeks, and her neck turned an attractive pink. “I asked around a few places.”
He leaned forward, trying a stern look to stem the pull of her perfect features. Pretty girls were a dime a dozen in a college town, more so in this small town of Westbrook, he thought. He refused to be lured by her innocent eyes and classic good looks. “Kristin, you need to be more forthcoming here. I don’t want to waste your money by doing things you’ve already done. So tell me. Where have you been?”
“I thought she’d gone south, to a bigger urban area like Missoula, so I went down there. But I could only go for the day. I’ve, um, been busy lately.”
Busy doing what? he wondered. “More than half the state of Montana is south of Missoula. You need to be specific about where you think she went.”
“I can’t be. I asked at the city hall in Missoula and the public records, and at the tech colleges and such, in case she’d taken some courses. But I found nothing.”
“Why those places?”
She shrugged. “I had to start somewhere. Getting an education is important. But I realized that I needed help. I’d lost a bit of my schooling this past spring because of personal issues, and I need to make it up this summer. The university offers summer courses. I can’t spend my time doing both things.”
Still a bit evasive, she was. He made a mental note to find out what kind of personal issues she’d dealt with this past spring. “Any other places?”
She paused, pursed her lips and then wet them. After swallowing, she answered him. “I found out that Eloise lived for a while at a foster home in Chicago. I talked to the woman who ran it. She’s supposed to, er, send me some info.”
She didn’t want to tell him, that, he noticed. Why? Was the idea of a foster home difficult? Or had the woman asked for anonymity? Surely she would know that she shouldn’t be offering information about the children in her care, even the ones who had probably aged out long ago.
Abruptly, Kristin leaned forward. “Please, Zane, I need your help. A friend recommended you, and I really need to find this woman. But it has to be done very discreetly.”
If his gut was telling him correctly, the woman was her mother.
A mom. Supposedly the one person in a child’s life who should love unconditionally. Yeah, like that happened.
Still, didn’t he already love unconditionally the brother he’d come to Westbrook to find? Without even knowing him?
He did. Zane noticed Kristin’s hand slip from her lap up onto the table between them, to rest there like a shy, stray animal in search of food or affection.
Did he really need this case? No, not for the money. He was sensible enough to have saved so that he could spend his summer searching exclusively for his lost brother, though he had yet to start. He didn’t need to follow weak clues from an evasive woman. He’d only agreed to meet her because he’d been intrigued by that smooth, velvet voice.
He stood. “I’m sorry, Kristin, but I’m going to need more than just the few things you’ve told me. If you’re not willing to say more, then you can’t expect anyone to find your mom.”
She gasped. “How did you know she was my mother?”
“I’m good at my job. I know how to read people.” He’d learned that the hard way, the way any battered kid learns to watch a parent for those subtle signs that a beating was imminent. “I see.”
He watched as her eyes welled up. Great. Feeling he was being a bit too hard on her, he planted his hands on the table, one on each side of hers. Her body tensed as she eased her hand closer to her body.
“Kristin, you need to trust the person you hire to find her, and obviously you’re not ready to do that. When you are, call me back.”
“It’s not a matter of trust here.”
“Then you’re being too stubborn for some reason. I need cooperation and trust before I can go any further with this.”
“But I need to find her. It’s a matter of—” She cut off her words.
“Of life and death?” He threw her a dubious look. “Then go to the police.”
“I can’t. And I can’t explain why.”
“Then I can’t help you.” He straightened. The café around him came into sharp focus. Being a typical college-town café, it had atmosphere aplenty, right down to the poster styled mirror mounted on the wall behind Kristin. In that brief instance, he caught his reflection.
Did his brother look like him? For the past two years, since his mother had finally told him the truth, he’d searched for the man, a full brother two years younger. Would he ever meet him?
He looked down at Kristin. “You’ve got my number. Call when you’re ready.” His heel drilled into the battered pine floor as he pivoted. He could feel her gaze glued to his back as he walked out the door.
The sun had already warmed the day, more than expected, he thought. He’d been in northwest Montana for two years and had noticed that springtime here could mean anything weather-wise.
Today, the sun beat down on him and he pulled from his jacket pocket a pair of sunglasses. He strode across the street, noticing the traffic had increased with a small town’s version of morning rush hour.
“Zane!”
He turned. Kristin stood in the café’s entrance, holding the door with one hand, her purse with the other. Once she’d caught his attention, she released the handle and trotted across the sidewalk, cutting through the increasing flow of pedestrians. The favorable weather was luring people outside in droves. Older people and students who’d chosen to stay the summer to get extra credits, a popular thing to do here, all seemed to be walking to work or school today.
For the first time, he could fully see what she was wearing. Dark jeans, a thin university hoodie and, over it, a light vest. Typical college-student wear around here.
