He sighs theatrically. “To business, then. Please, take a seat.” He gestures at a desk and chair across the room. She walks toward it and he follows, and she tries not to be conscious of his eyes on her back. She focuses on his office to distract herself. It’s different from what she’d expected. White, filled with light and a few simple pieces of furniture, it’s understated in a style not that different from her own. There’s no clutter, only a single plant on a side table by the window.
She sits in the chair, and he settles himself behind the desk. A laptop is on its center, and Cooke opens it. He types for a moment, then swivels its screen toward her, and Holly braces herself for what she’ll see.
Except she’s looking at a blank screen. A single white page with nothing on it. She looks at him inquiringly.
“This is what I’ve found so far,” he says.
“Is this some sort of a joke?” She takes a deep breath, trying to calm the anger that flares through her. Her children have no time for this.
“Not at all,” he says. He pushes the computer out of the way and leans forward. “At least not on my end.”
“Excuse me?”
“Holly—may I call you Holly?”
“I prefer Dr. Darling,” she says coolly.
“Dr. Darling, I am very, very good at my job. Good enough to command—and deserve—that retainer you mentioned. Good enough to be in high demand, which lets me pick my clients. And although I picked you, I think your story is a bunch of bollocks.” He smiles winningly.
“What exactly are you saying?” Christopher Cooke is far more intelligent—and charming—than she’d originally given him credit for. She bets he enjoys being underestimated, just like she does.
“I’m saying that I’ve done everything I’d normally do in a situation like this, and more. I’ve searched property records, I’ve checked arrest records, I’ve even had a look at the driving licenses database. If there’s a record and you can think of it, I’ve checked it. And of the many, many Peter Smiths I’ve found—and there are a multitude, I assure you—none of them come within a whisper of meeting the description you’ve given me. So either this Peter person is very good at hiding—better than I am at finding, which is difficult to believe.” He pauses. “Or . . .”
“Yes?”
“He doesn’t exist. Which begs the question, why would someone such as yourself pay me a great deal of money to search for a phantom person?”
“Perhaps he’s living under an assumed name,” she says, desperately trying to keep the panic from entering her voice. Why did she ever think this would work?
He looks at her, that same intense gaze, and she has to work to keep herself from squirming like a teenager in the principal’s office. He works for you, she reminds herself.
“When I knew him,” she blurts, “he used to like to call himself Pan.”
“As in Peter Pan?” Cooke asks, his brow furrowing.
Holly nods miserably.
“That would have been helpful information to have. He sounds like quite the rabid fan, another useful bit.” After a long pause, he adds, “You’re never too far from that story, are you?”
Holly bites back a hysterical laugh. He has no idea.
“Also helpful? A photo of your daughter with her eyes open.”
“Eden spends most of her time sleeping, due to her medical condition,” she says. “I believe I mentioned that.”
“And I believe you’re keeping things from me,” he says with a hint of that mocking grin. “That’s what makes this case so fun.”
“I’m glad you find my missing daughter entertaining,” she says coldly. She stands. “I’ll see if I can locate another picture of Eden. Is there anything else?”
He shakes his head and comes around the side of the desk to see her out. “I’ll search again using that alias and be in touch about what I find,” he says. “And I apologize. You’re right—my comment was insensitive.”
She looks at him in surprise. “Thank you.”
He shrugs. “Needed to be said.” He’s standing close to her, and his eyes are such a dark, magnetic blue it’s hard to look away. She can feel the heat coming off him. She takes a step backward to put distance between them, and as she does so, her hip bumps the side table holding the plant.
She looks down. The leaves are shiny and green, with tiny blue flowers, a picture of health.