Simon worked hisass off for the rest of the day, bluntly trying to forget what he’d been through and the childhood memories dredged up. As he went from project to project, to the bank, and then back to another project, swearing and cursing at problems, most of the men around him ducked and avoided him. He knew it wasn’t fair, but it’s what he needed to do, as he straightened out things that had gone wrong. By the time he made it home, it was after seven.
He was more than pissed off and fed up. He opened the front door to the building himself and saw no sign of a doorman around. He headed to the stairs, too tired to go up them, yet knowing he still had more of the same frustrating anger driving him. He strolled up the stairs, flight after flight after flight, and, by the time he got to the top and headed into his penthouse, he was beyond exhausted.
He stripped off right from the front door for his second shower of the day. And he knew the demons wouldn’t let up anytime soon. When he came out, he dressed again in jeans and a T-shirt, poured himself a stiff drink. Nursing it, he headed to the front window, where he sat down and stared at the incredible view before him. But he didn’t see the view. It was his history; it was his past; it was everything bad. All he saw was the mocking darkness hidden underneath all those bright lights. And something was so wrong about it all. When his phone rang, he grabbed it, check the Caller ID on his screen. It was Kate. “What do you want?” he barked.
“You have a right to snap,” she said, “but I’m bringing dinner, so let me up.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Too damn bad,” she said. “Let me up.” Her tone was as inflexible as his.
He gave a snort. “Your funeral,” he said, and he buzzed her in. He could just imagine her walking across the front foyer, and he wondered again for a moment where the hell the doorman was. But didn’t waste any more time on that issue. He got up and walked to his doorway, then leaned against the doorjamb and waited for the elevator to open. When it did, she strolled out, and he looked down at the bag in her hand. “There should have been leftover Chinese still.”
“I left that at my place,” she said. “I haven’t been home yet. I stopped on the way from the hospital.”
“That sounds like a lovely visit.”
“It should have been,” she said. “Two children were saved. But somehow it just leaves me with that terrible feeling inside.”
He nodded in understanding, realizing her mood equaled his. He watched as she walked into the kitchen and took out containers. He didn’t recognize the brown paper bag or the smell coming from the containers. Some sort of Middle Eastern dish. “Smells interesting,” he said cautiously.
“It’s good, but don’t eat it if you don’t want to. I don’t give a shit,” she grumped. He gave a bark of laughter and brought plates over. She quickly served two platefuls, pulled up a stool, and sat down right where she was. He repeated the move on his side, and the two of them munched through some food.
“What is it about food,” he said, studying the folded wrapped thing in his hand, “that soothes the soul?”
“And add not being alone,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be in the interview room with you today.”
“Whatever,” he said. “They didn’t do anything that crossed the line.”
She nodded. “No, not yet,” she said. “If they find anything that connects you to any of the cases, they will though.”
He stared at her and then shrugged. “They can waste all their time if they want,” he said. “I don’t give a shit.”
“Good. No sign of your foster father or your biological mother so far,” she said. “We found your birth certificate, but no death certificate for either of them.”
“Check the Jane Does,” he said. “My foster father said she was nothing but a junkie.”
“Maybe,” she said. “A family was at the hospital today, who said the little girl who I found in Richmond was their niece. Missing for a couple years.” She filled him in on the story, and he just stared.
“And they want her now? Even though, when her mother was in trouble and needed a safe place for her daughter, they weren’t there?”
“Family, right?” she said, with a snort. “Something about an inheritance. I’ve started a few searches on my laptop, but I haven’t gotten any further.”
“An inheritance would do it,” he said. “But why so many people?”
“I think they don’t trust each other,” she said. “And they want to make sure they are all in there to grab some money.”
“They want to help spend the inheritance.”
“I’ve got calls in to the lawyer,” she said. “So far, nobody is talking. So we don’t have a connection yet.”
“Sorry,” he said, “that sucks too.”
“It does, but I’m looking for a solution, not more shit.”
“And you are the one who found this little girl?”
She nodded. “And I also saw somebody coming out of a window in the house, but I didn’t get him,” she said, with another snort of disgust. “That same blue truck was stolen that night, and, when I went to talk to the witness, he was gone. I did get a license plate, and so did you apparently.”