Preliminary Investigations, Part 2
[Featuring: serenityw, tristan_taylor_, featuring new NPC's Private Investigator Kendall Seec and his assistant, whose name I refuse to give away at this juncture.]
[Scene: Continued from Part 1. Private Investigator Kendall Seec offers Serenity some much-needed counsel. Backdated to October 26, 2007]
*****
The offices of Kendall Seec were tucked away in the Bronx in predictable private-eye-film fashion. The building holding his rented space teetered on the edge of shabby, maintaining the cream and yellow institutional architecture found in an LBJ-era high school.
Come to think of it, Hunter College High was still rocking those colors in 1999. No wonder the place gave Tristan the creeps.
Tristan immediately eschewed the small elevator - probably last serviced when Nixon was in - and led Serenity up the stairs to the third-floor office.
He had to be damned good, Tristan decided immediately, because there was no way in hell Seto Kaiba would have considered visiting this place on a whim, let alone recommend it to anyone of importance, if he wasn't worth walking through a sixties timewarp.
They reached the top of the stairs and followed the arrow on a sleek black wall directory to the left end of the intersecting hallway. The office door was reassuring, pebbled glass and hand-lettered with Kendall's name and office hours. They let themselves in, heralded by a soft chime.
Kendall's assistant looked up. Tristan knew enough about Seto to also know his expectations. A talented investigator could- and would- afford a handler, rather than answer the calls himself.
It helped that the assistant was female. And he'd already talked to her. But still.
She looked like a Foxy Brown prequel: the college years. Curly hair tamed from her forehead in neat braids puffed into an orange halo at the back of her head. Her eyeshadow matched her hair, and glimmered faintly in the fluorescent light when she moved.
"Can I help you?" she asked, somewhat surprised tone implying that surely they must be lost; the Lamaze classes were upstairs.
Serenity had hung back all the way in, feeling oddly naked without the protection of helmet and acceleration. Now she smoothed her flattened hair back and kept silent. This hadn't been what she'd expected, but in a way the gritty surroundings had been reassuring in a fashion that an expensively-appointed office would not have.
When everything had gone Bad before (and her mind silently supplied the capitalization), it'd been different-- a police precinct, paperwork and the noise of a busy office. Then there'd been photos to go through, statements to wash down with endless cups of vending-machine coffee, more paperwork... and the trial: not in some glossy courtroom, but mostly done as a series of quiet presentations in a small, cold little room with a tired judge who'd seen it all before and had been less than interested.
The thing was, it had all been part of a process, something set in motion with the first suggestion of a restraint-order and concluded with Steven Gant's sentencing. She hadn't had to push anything along or hire anyone, for that matter; it had been all very clinical and involuntary, just legalities and justice in action.
And it hadn't really worked, had it? Or not well enough. Serenity swallowed and continued to keep her silence.
Tristan glanced sideways at Serenity, initially waiting for her response - only to find her not beside, but halfway behind him. She was already small by comparison to his size, but somehow now, she seemed even smaller. Instinctively, Tristan sidled closer, a little further between Serenity and Kendall's assistant. "We've got an appointment with Mister Seec," he said quickly, "Tristan Taylor?"
The assistant consulted her datebook, paused, and smiled at him with recognition. "Ah! I talked to you earlier this morning. I'm Nala," she rose, offering her hand across the desk, "I'm interning with Kendall. Go right in," she gestured to the doorway at her right after a brief handclasp, "if he's on the phone, I'll make him hang up."
Thanking her, Tristan laid a hand against the small of Serenity's back to propel her forward, into Kendall's office. On the way past the assistant, he just... couldn't help himself. "Nala like the lion?"
"Tristan like the Cornish emo knight?" Nala retorted blandly, not looking at them as she returned to her chair. "I'm twenty-three, at least I can claim I wasn't named after a lion. What's your excuse?"
That startled a very small laugh out of the third person in the room, and both of the other two looked at the redhead who had paused at the doorway. "Serenity as in 'Firefly'," she muttered, still fighting down nerves but trying hard. "Could be worse, I guess."
Nala nodded approvingly, and smiled with a flash of sympathy for Serenity's anxiety. Tristan, startled out of laughter and back into it again by Serenity's comment, cocked his head as if he'd caught a faint snatch of favorite song. A moment later, he smiled at Serenity and moved toward her again. "All right, Firefly," he chuckled, filling up the doorway behind her, "let's get this over with."
And in doing so, nearly collided with Kendall Seec himself, on his way to the foyer to see what he was missing.
He was significantly shorter than Tristan, but then, so was eighty percent of New York City (excluding the architecture). Fine hair stood up in a shock from his head, nondescript medium brown, almost the same color as his eyes. In fact... everything about the man looked... average. Except for maybe the hair. But that was in style and Kendall looked about thirty-five; he could get away with it.
He looked exactly like he sounded: young, smooth and energetic without going too far toward sleazy. "Tristan Taylor from this morning," Kendall's gaze shifted to Serenity, "And you'd be Serenity. What are you doing to my assistant?" He glanced past them towards Nala, who flashed a grin and waved him off.
"Come on in, we'll get started," Kendall stepped aside to welcome them into his office - little more than a glorified closet, lined with shelves, file cabinets, and Post-It notes. He closed the door as they entered, and pointed out the pair of suede blue armchairs opposite his desk, out of keeping with the rest of the room, and took a seat across from them.
"So you probably know already, but my name is Kendall Seec. Tristan outlined the bare details for me," his gaze shifted to Serenity, smile and his eyes frank, "but I'd like to know your story from you. What are you looking for?"
...That's a really good question... "Not to get hurt again," she said hesitantly, gaze level. "I want-- just-- I want him to leave me alone. And to pay for what he did." The image of a century-old barn burning away to sodden ash blurred through her mind, followed by the pinpoint-sharp image of Marin Jotteson's face when confronting her youngest son. "He's hurt more people than just me. That's what I want."
She drew a deep breath, beginning. "I met h-- met Steven Gant when we were in high school. I was kind of shy, and he was nice; attentive, I guess you'd say." It was easier, really, thinking about how things had been then; and Serenity clasped her hands loosely together, hooking just the fingertips and resting them on her knees as she spoke.
***
"Soda?"
The redheaded girl raised her face from where it had been resting against her drawn-up knees and blinked. "Uh-- what?"
"Soda," explained the blond boy leaning casually against the wall a few feet away; he offered one of the two Sprites he was holding. "The machine kicked out a free one, and you kinda look like you could use it."
Sixteen years old and miserable, Serenity Wheeler automatically reached out for the offered comfort of carbonated sugar and took the can. "...thanks?" Noises from Hunter's basketball court less than a dozen feet away echoed against the high walls and rattled the chain-link fences.
The boy-- he had to be about her age (and cute, too she thought privately)-- looked vaguely familiar, smiling down at her where she sat on the curb, back pressed against warm brickwork. "No big deal," he said with just enough of a shrug; "I had an extra. What's wrong? You okay?" He had an accent; not the usual familiar New York quickness, something slower and more laid-back. And he was smiling just a little as he popped the seal on his own drink.
Smiling at her. That was better than a Sprite, especially right now. "Yeah, I'm okay, just..." Serenity flushed belatedly; you didn't tell a cute boy you were dying of cramps, oh GOD no. "...just kinda sick at the stomach. Chili-dogs at lunch today, y'know?" And the frickin' period from hell. Mother Nature hates my guts.
The boy snorted, taking a swallow; passing the extra can over, he held up both hands with fingers crooked as if to frame mock headlines. "'School Lunch Poisoning Attempt Fails Yet Again-- Film At Eleven'," he said in easy teenaged mockery before picking his own soda back up again. "They keep trying, but hey, we're like cockroaches." The sidelong look he gave her was a step above what most boys his age could manage: a little cocky, a little appraising, a little appreciative. His eyes were startlingly pale below the overlong fall of ash-blond hair, and as he took another long swallow he gave Serenity that smile again; she could just see the quirk of his mouth behind the aluminum rim.
He IS cute. Serenity raised her voice a little to be heard over the clamor of of teenage voices and the rapid-fire bounce of the basketball as it blurred past, headed downcourt and traveling fast. "What, we're brown and disgusting and live in sewers? Eeew." Post-adolescent humor fell a little flat, but the snort of laughter she got back made her feel like a point had been scored. She watched the stampede of her fellow students go by again, this time in the other direction and accompanied by voluble swearing; somebody had the ball and wouldn't let it go, and from somewhere in the mass Serenity could hear her twin Joey laughing. "Um, thanks for the soda. I'm--"
Clink! Metal on concrete; condensation on aluminum made a single faint ring as the blond boy tilted his drink idly back and forth, beads of clear soda sliding along the edge like liquid glass. "--Red. Yeah, I heard one of your friends call you that." Light blue eyes met hers with encouraging directness, and she flushed.
"Serenity. Not 'Red'," the girl replied firmly. That name was for her brothers to use, and maybe one or two others.
"'Serenity', right, got it. Hey, 'Ren." That smile again, and the cool blue eyes were like calm, shallow water, depthless but inviting. "I'm Steven. You--" The clamor of the school buzzer announcing the end of Gym drowned him out. He rolled his eyes, pulling himself up into a crouch against the red bricks and held out a hand in a wordless offer of help.
The girl hesitated, then gave an internal shrug. What could it hurt, anyway? He was just being nice, and he was kind of hot.
So when she took his hand, this time she smiled back as well.
* * *
Both Kendall and Tristan listened attentively. To Kendall the story was new. For Tristan, the plot was familiar but the details were new.
Kendall took no written notes, but gave Serenity the full span of his focus, forearms folded and resting on the desk. He asked pointed questions from time to time, guiding the conversation as the story progressed quickly through the high school relationship and into Serenity's college years with Steven.
"--You mentioned that he was jealous and controlling from time to time while you were dating early on, but it didn't worry you then. What changed your mind?" Kendall asked.
Eyes raised, a little startled and then considering. "He'd done a few things when we were younger; scared some've my friends off, been too possessive, but... I guess it was when we were in college that I really started wondering if something was wrong." Serenity gave a half-shrug. "Other people were wondering too."
* * *
"--sort've intense, girl, you better watch out he don' think you plannin' t'let him have more'n you wanta give, huh?" Gina Hernandez' heavy Jamaican-flavored accent fought a losing battle against exasperation; she wiped her forehead with the back of one hand, perspiration sheening her dark skin. She elbowed the young woman crowded in beside her on the Canarsie Local, halfway back to the dorms and dog-tired on a hot August night. "Are you LISTENIN' to me? You wanna end up w'yer ass knocked up'n bigger than--"
"Jeeze, Gina, shut it, will you? I'm not gonna let him get me pregnant. And tell the whole freaking world, why don't you?" Scarlet with embarrassment, Serenity covered her eyes. "We're already sleeping together, anyway," she muttered as the subway train gave a lurch and began to brake as the next stop drew nearer. "But we're being careful, and beSIDES, nobody needs t'know if you'll keep your damn mouth shut."
"Yeah? So what's that on your neck, huh?" Gina watched her friend critically as the redhead did a fair job of matching her hair, one hand involuntarily rising. "Your mom's gonna shit fuckin' bricks when she sees that. And that blond brother've yours gonna shove 'em up that guy's--"
"GIIIIInah dammit everybody on the whole TRAIN can hear you!"
"--'til they come out his ears," the other girl concluded darkly. "An' then that Tristan'll shove 'em back through--" Gina had something of a crush on Tristan; she liked his hair.
"GINA. Shut it."
"--an' anyway. You said he got int'your laptop? What're you using for passwords, your birthday?" Gina leaned back, grimacing as the plastic behind her stuck to her perspiration-damp skin. "I don' like him. He sneaks."
"What? Gina, he's-- what'd'you mean, 'sneaks'?" Half-laughing, Serenity leaned back as well.
"He does. Y'know? He's always there, he always knows where you are, where you've been. Shit, he knows your class schedule better'n you do, an..." Gina paused, dark eyes frowning. Steven knew other things too; she'd seen him watching, not just Serenity, but Serenity's friends. It was enough to make a person a little paranoid.
"...just you be careful, okay? Just you be careful."
* * *
"If I'd known what he was gonna..." Tristan felt the rising pressure in the back of his skull, and squeezed his keys until the metal left red dents. He didn't let himself get angry much anymore, learning in the process about how to distract himself, like turning Axl's head away from a growling dog.
Beside him, Serenity shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "He wasn't always so horrible," she said quietly. "And nobody knew, so-- water under the bridge and all." The clasped fingers knotted together for a second before releasing, and his sister reached out tentatively to link them around his much larger ones and pull. She couldn't have pried them open, but they loosened slightly anyway. "If anybody should've known it was me. But people are good at being blind; that's what h-- Steven always counted on, and usually he was right." It was just a little easier to say his name now; funny. Usually it hurt even to think it.
When Serenity's voice touched Tristan's distinctly reddened thoughts and the bite of metal finally reached him through his numbed fingers, the desire to snap Steven's neck diluted.
"I know," Tristan muttered, barely mollified, but relaxed for Serenity's sake. It was easier to stop being angry if he was doing it for her.
Kendall regarded them with curiosity, but made no comment, allowing the scene to play out without his intervention. He waited until a suitable time passed before gently steering the discussion on course.
"Did anything happen after you ended the relationship?" he asked.
The redhead gave what might've been a smile under other circumstances. "'Ended' doesn't really come into it. The relationship kind of died on one side and kept going on the other, only inside his head. He--" (she swallowed) "S-Steven-- We'd fight, and then he'd do something to get me to make up with him, only it'd be wrong..."
* * *
The screaming fight the day before had left Serenity drained and apprehensive, and the walk back after her last lab had been too long. Now, backpack dragging by one strap from her hand, she fumbled with her keys twice before finally turning the knob.
Thud. The backpack slid to the floor as the lights came on, and the scent drifted out into the dorm foyer.
White flowers, carnations and roses and daisies, white flowers; wrapped in cellophaned bundles or lying loose on the unmade bed, petals scattered across the carpet like wilting confetti. White flowers in her coffee-mug, drooping down from where they'd been stuck between books on the shelf above the bed, heaped in confusion on her pillow. White flowers everywhere.
And all she could do was stand there, gaping. A half hour later when Steven came by, smiling and almost apologetic (without ever once actually making an apology) there was armistice, at least for a while.
But it would've been better later on, much better maybe, if she'd taken the time to wonder just how Steven had gotten into her room.
* * *
"He could be really charming when he wanted to be. But then he, well..." She stopped; rubbed at her eyes and sighed, then looked up. "I never really knew if he got kicked out or just quit; we'd had a lot of fights about his drinking, and I, um, kind of got too much into the party scene myself for a while." Serenity shrugged, making a face like she'd tasted something bitter before dropping her gaze back to her lap. "I got out of that, and he didn't like it. Guess I was easier to handle when all I wanted to do was go out clubbing or get tanked with my friends."
"So... we broke up four times, five; and we got, or I thought we'd gotten a little distance between us. Only, we hadn't. He was still watching me."
Kendall nodded. Tristan had mentioned this to him, as well as briefly (very briefly) skimming over the events that followed. Tristan's secondhand account was filled with his own personal bias; everything of bitterness and anger and very little about the person it was directed at.
"How did you find--?" Kendal asked. He reached for the spring water on his desk, and interrupted himself. "Wait - I'm pushing. Would either of you like something to drink? We've got Strawberry Crush, Orange Crush, R.C. and bottled water."
A few minutes later, Orange Crush cradled in her hands, the young woman loosened up enough to sit back in her chair rather than perch in it; she hadn't realized that she'd been more or less huddling defensively on the edge until she'd stopped. "You must hear this kind of thing a lot," she remarked softly, fingers tracing lines in the condensation on the can.
Kendall returned to his former posture, fingers working over a fold in his shirtsleeve. "If by that you mean stalking and obsessive behavior, yeah. It's a specialty of mine, I guess because I know how a person like Steven works.
"Serenity, maybe you made one bad call. Lots of people do that; some of them end up in this office. I don't think less of them for it. You're doing something about it, which means you aren't letting the fear control your life, and you haven't convinced yourself that you deserve it. If you're worried about what I think--" Kendall shrugged, lifting his fingers from his forearms briefly, "--don't, because I'm a jerk. But you didn't just give up, and I respect that."
She studied her fingers; in the chair beside her Tristan was a large, warm presence, reassuring and just a little surreal by his simply being there after so long. She could feel him radiating anxiety and anger like a fire. "I gave up for a year and a half," she muttered. "That doesn't deserve respect. I left my mess behind and a little kid got--" She couldn't say it: tainted, warped, stained. By him, because I let it happen. Did I really believe if I didn't see him that meant he wasn't there anymore? "I ran away, I was such a huge coward, and if I hadn't had help I'd still be there, you know that?" Serenity raised her gaze to meet Kendall's defiantly, displaying her own shame and self-loathing like a dirty flag. Her voice was thin, sharp and creased with pain. "Even if I didn't deserve it, it was MY problem! And I just... dumped it and ran. God."
The can of Orange Crush creaked in Serenity's grip, echoing her stress with its own metallic voice. "How could I do that? I don't even know WHY he, why St-- S-St--"
"...shit," she whispered. "It's hard to even say his name. Why?"
Kendall filed Serenity's tirade away without a reaction, dispassionately filing away the interesting bits -- what little kid, ran where, why a year -- for later scrutiny. It was part of the job, and he was good at it, but it was one more reason why he didn't get involved in his clients' problems any more than he ended up in them by default. He, of all people they could possibly use as a support, was the worst candidate.
"Names have power," Kendall replied quietly, "take a look at Betelgeuse. Say it three times and he appears."
"Saying someone's name can give you power over them," Tristan added as the memory from a book disturbed his circular thoughts, and reached over to curl his hand around Serenity's wrist, gently removing the can from her fingers. He spoke for the sake of doing something other than radiating impotent anger, and wasn't surprised when Kendall shot him an inquisitive look--but neither man followed up on it.
"Whatever happened before doesn't really matter, Serenity. The fact is, you're here now," Kendall said, shifting his attention back to the young woman. Advice, warning, suggestion--they waited in the back of his throat, but he didn't say them. "Do you still want to pursue this?"
...yes.
That much, at least, she was sure of; as sure as the fact that she wouldn't have to do it alone, not anymore. That eased up the rawness, made it a little better. After a second she realized that she hadn't said anything out loud. "Yes. Yes, I do." The young woman shrugged one shoulder, a tired gesture. "And he probably thinks I'm too chickensh-- uh, scared to do anything like this, so..." She trailed off, thinking hard. "And... this last thing he did, there's something I don't think he considered. That kid I mentioned?" Serenity tilted her head, red hair falling across one side of her face and half-hiding it as she almost smiled. "He met S-Steven; he's a witness, knows where he was and when he was there. So there's at least one person besides me who can point fingers here for a change. Before, that's what made it so hard; nobody could say they'd witnessed him doing anything, not until it got really ugly at the end."
"...I guess you need to know all about that mess too, huh?" Serenity half-shrugged again, her gaze flicking over to Tristan before returning to Kendall Seec. I'm sorry, it said, and Thank you.
Tristan inclined his head just a fraction when his eyes met Serenity's, and he smiled in understanding and sympathy as his fingers found their way through hers.
Kendall's smile - if lacking somewhat in temperature - was no less earnest. "It couldn't hurt," he said.
Strength could be found in a lot of things. Serenity nodded, found a little more of hers in her brother's warm clasp, and began. "When I left here back in September-- that'd be last year, 2006-- I went to this little town in Connecticut, Ash Springs, and rented a room at a friend's family's place. It went okay at first; I settled in, found work, kind of hid out for a few months and let my nerves settle, y'know? And I thought he'd let things go after he figured out he couldn't find me. I really should've known better, but-- anyway. Hope springs eternal, I guess." She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. "So when nothing happened, I started thinking about moving back."
"But then last May I got this note in the mail..."
Silent as the books on his shelves, Kendall listened.
* * * * *
Photos of the crumpled slips of tan paper-- all she had, the originals were with the police back in Connecticut-- lay spread out across Kendall Seec's desk, along with copies of police reports and shots of the charred ruins of an old barn. Serenity sat back in her chair, quieter and a little steadier now; she had traced out her stay in Ash Springs and explained Davey Jotteson's involvement as calmly as possible. "I haven't seen Steven yet," she said quietly; the momentary stumble over her ex-boyfriend's name was less pronounced now, like a jagged bit of brick underfoot wearing just that much smoother with use. "But what he did was designed to drive me back here, and here I am... so he's here too, somewhere."
Kendall turned the photos over slowly, then read the dates on the police reports. The barn was interesting - but he laid it aside for closer study. "Almost certain," he said, "so one of the first things we need to find out is his location. The other is to establish a pattern of behavior. These sorts of people may seem unpredictable, but everyone behaves more or less by a series of habits, and if we understand his, we may be able to guess what he's doing next and beat him to the punch."
"A friend of ours mentioned... doing things that make her look less like... a target?" Tristan carefully edited prey from the sentence, "will that help?"
"I suggest that to all of my clients in similar situations," Kendall nodded. "Changing your usual habits, going home by different routes on a regular basis, shopping at different grocery stores, etcetera. I highly recommend taking a self-defense course. If it never comes to that, it will help increase your outward confidence - and that alone may make you less appealing."
Serenity was silent for a moment. "That's been suggested," she said slowly, "and it's a good idea. And 'home', well-- that's kind of a moot point right now. Haven't got one yet, but I will." She crossed on leg over the other, huddling just a little with her arms wrapped tight around each other; everything in her posture said 'guard' and 'closed'. She made a wry face; "If I don't even know where it'll be yet, I kind of doubt he can." Still, she shivered; it was easy to see the scenarios playing themselves out in her mind: walking home in the anonymous spark-lit dark of a city night, taking the subway in a crowd of strangers (or worse), catching a bus and finding the only available space to be next to an all-too-familiar smile... Hey, Red. Wondered when I'd catch up with you-- shhh, don't scream, you don't want me to have to stop you, do you...?
"He's not omnipotent," Serenity muttered, deliberately loosening her stance and sitting back, hands tight on the chair arms. "He's not. He just wants me to think he is. And I won't."
...probably not, anyway, said her white-knuckled grip. Probably not.
Kendall's gaze flickered from Serenity's face to study her posture; the paling ridges of her knuckles. "No, Serenity, he isn't," he confirmed, and leaned a little forward on his elbows over the photographs and report copies. "From what you've said and what I can guess, he's clever and he understands human behavior--at least as far as it relates to fear. But you aren't helpless, and in my opinion you've done the right thing. Not hiring me," Kendall spread his hands and leaned back once again, "by asking for help, period. Friends, family, and me. Instead of going it alone. You've done well by not letting him isolate you. Keep that up."
She hitched one shoulder up just a little and then let it drop. "I have good people all around me," Serenity answered quietly, "and if I didn't let them help, they'd do it anyway. Couldn't just... leave them out, even if I thought I could go it alone, could I?" Her gaze dropped to her lap for a second before rising again, and there was a hint of a challenge in the way her chin came up this time. "So-- what'll you do next? What does a P.I. do at this point, and--" she hesitated, tilting her head a little. "--do we need to call you or anything?"
"And can we afford you?" Tristan asked quietly, running his knuckles lightly down Serenity's arm in a quick gesture of support. "Seto Kaiba referred us, and I believe in paying for quality, but I'd kind of like to get the sticker shock out of the way."
Kendall caught the shift in Serenity's posture, and allowed a small but approving smile for them both. "I do my job. Dig into whatever I can find about him, where he is. Like I said before, I'll look him up, follow him, take some pictures. See if there's other girls, check out the court records, look for patterns. I can report back to you as often as you want me to - every day, every week, every month, you name it. As for the cost--" his gaze shifted to Tristan, "Tell me how much you want to spend, I'll tell you how many hours that's worth, you'll get an itemized statement every month, and when we hit that ceiling we can re-evaluate." He took a breath as he came to the end of the familiar, mechanical paragraph, and sat back, "Plus, you can re-evaluate at any point during the process." Kendall's smile widened a fraction, "I work for you. You tell me how it goes down. I'll tell you what I think needs done next, but it's always your call."
Serenity smiled gratefully at her brother's gesture-- and at his questions and the other man's answer. The price had been preying on her mind more than a little as well. Something else came to mind, though... "Back in Connecticut the police said they were going to try to contact him too, but there wasn't enough cause to swear out a warrant or anything. Wonder if they've talked to him yet?" And I wonder if I'll have to too? hung in the air, unspoken but vivid.
Tristan relaxed at Kendall's response to his worries about the possible bill. He cared quite a bit for Seto Kaiba, admired him and respected his opinion, but if there was one department where the man was a little... selectively blind... it was income differences. Seto wouldn't think twice about hiring an investigator if he would fill the man's needs, regardless of the cost. Tristan knew Kendall would have to be good to get Seto's referral, but he'd been expecting to need a bank loan. If they could only afford a few days' worth of work at first, it would still be more than they'd had, and the man seemed experienced and not likely to bill for wasted hours.
Sensing a positive shift in both of his potential clients, Kendall let out a small breath he'd been holding. "If you want, I can check that out first."
The young woman nodded. "It's a starting place. I don't know how they'll be about sharing info, but..." and she paused, one corner of her mouth twitching. "...but that's the sort of thing you'd know about, right? Or at least," and the twitch shaped itself into a momentary smile again, "that's what the television PIs do. Bet it's not that simple, huh?"
At Serenity's quip, Kendall cracked his widest grin of the afternoon.
"I know a guy who knows a guy," he said.
They spent fifteen minutes or so discussing terms, cost, legalities, and the rest of the small details that logically followed the decision to contract Kendall Seec. When they left his office, Nala waited a few minutes before intruding on her employer's thoughtful silence.
Kendall was looking at the entryway when she came in. His brows lifted. "...You had something to add?"
"That little gal," Nala started, hugging the doorframe, "is she gonna be okay? I was eavesdropping."
"From today? Yes," Kendall replied. "Deep pit, heavy shovel. But she's a fighter like that rottweiler she brought in with her - people like them don't stay off-kilter long when someone takes a piece out of their control."
"When do you start?" Nala asked, after a pause. Even after only a few short weeks as his intern, she already knew that he liked it better when she left his observations unembroidered.
"Tonight. Only other case I have is McEnroy, and he's out of the country. With," he added at Nala's lowered eyelids and quirked mouth, "the blonde assistant from Sacramento."
"Poor kid,"
"Pity McEnroy," Kendall shuffled a few papers into a folder and reached for his satchel as he rose, "his lapkitten's wanted in Utah for fraud. Millionaire, no prenup, and the gold-digging pet Persian's gonna take him for whatever his wife doesn't get first."
"That's life," Nala shrugged, dismissing their current target's future troubles with a cool lack of sympathy.
"And that's why I'll never get married. You females, you're all so tough." Kendall replied in a mock-despairing tone as he exited. Nala laughed.
Go back to Part 1
[Scene: Continued from Part 1. Private Investigator Kendall Seec offers Serenity some much-needed counsel. Backdated to October 26, 2007]
*****
The offices of Kendall Seec were tucked away in the Bronx in predictable private-eye-film fashion. The building holding his rented space teetered on the edge of shabby, maintaining the cream and yellow institutional architecture found in an LBJ-era high school.
Come to think of it, Hunter College High was still rocking those colors in 1999. No wonder the place gave Tristan the creeps.
Tristan immediately eschewed the small elevator - probably last serviced when Nixon was in - and led Serenity up the stairs to the third-floor office.
He had to be damned good, Tristan decided immediately, because there was no way in hell Seto Kaiba would have considered visiting this place on a whim, let alone recommend it to anyone of importance, if he wasn't worth walking through a sixties timewarp.
They reached the top of the stairs and followed the arrow on a sleek black wall directory to the left end of the intersecting hallway. The office door was reassuring, pebbled glass and hand-lettered with Kendall's name and office hours. They let themselves in, heralded by a soft chime.
Kendall's assistant looked up. Tristan knew enough about Seto to also know his expectations. A talented investigator could- and would- afford a handler, rather than answer the calls himself.
It helped that the assistant was female. And he'd already talked to her. But still.
She looked like a Foxy Brown prequel: the college years. Curly hair tamed from her forehead in neat braids puffed into an orange halo at the back of her head. Her eyeshadow matched her hair, and glimmered faintly in the fluorescent light when she moved.
"Can I help you?" she asked, somewhat surprised tone implying that surely they must be lost; the Lamaze classes were upstairs.
Serenity had hung back all the way in, feeling oddly naked without the protection of helmet and acceleration. Now she smoothed her flattened hair back and kept silent. This hadn't been what she'd expected, but in a way the gritty surroundings had been reassuring in a fashion that an expensively-appointed office would not have.
When everything had gone Bad before (and her mind silently supplied the capitalization), it'd been different-- a police precinct, paperwork and the noise of a busy office. Then there'd been photos to go through, statements to wash down with endless cups of vending-machine coffee, more paperwork... and the trial: not in some glossy courtroom, but mostly done as a series of quiet presentations in a small, cold little room with a tired judge who'd seen it all before and had been less than interested.
The thing was, it had all been part of a process, something set in motion with the first suggestion of a restraint-order and concluded with Steven Gant's sentencing. She hadn't had to push anything along or hire anyone, for that matter; it had been all very clinical and involuntary, just legalities and justice in action.
And it hadn't really worked, had it? Or not well enough. Serenity swallowed and continued to keep her silence.
Tristan glanced sideways at Serenity, initially waiting for her response - only to find her not beside, but halfway behind him. She was already small by comparison to his size, but somehow now, she seemed even smaller. Instinctively, Tristan sidled closer, a little further between Serenity and Kendall's assistant. "We've got an appointment with Mister Seec," he said quickly, "Tristan Taylor?"
The assistant consulted her datebook, paused, and smiled at him with recognition. "Ah! I talked to you earlier this morning. I'm Nala," she rose, offering her hand across the desk, "I'm interning with Kendall. Go right in," she gestured to the doorway at her right after a brief handclasp, "if he's on the phone, I'll make him hang up."
Thanking her, Tristan laid a hand against the small of Serenity's back to propel her forward, into Kendall's office. On the way past the assistant, he just... couldn't help himself. "Nala like the lion?"
"Tristan like the Cornish emo knight?" Nala retorted blandly, not looking at them as she returned to her chair. "I'm twenty-three, at least I can claim I wasn't named after a lion. What's your excuse?"
That startled a very small laugh out of the third person in the room, and both of the other two looked at the redhead who had paused at the doorway. "Serenity as in 'Firefly'," she muttered, still fighting down nerves but trying hard. "Could be worse, I guess."
Nala nodded approvingly, and smiled with a flash of sympathy for Serenity's anxiety. Tristan, startled out of laughter and back into it again by Serenity's comment, cocked his head as if he'd caught a faint snatch of favorite song. A moment later, he smiled at Serenity and moved toward her again. "All right, Firefly," he chuckled, filling up the doorway behind her, "let's get this over with."
And in doing so, nearly collided with Kendall Seec himself, on his way to the foyer to see what he was missing.
He was significantly shorter than Tristan, but then, so was eighty percent of New York City (excluding the architecture). Fine hair stood up in a shock from his head, nondescript medium brown, almost the same color as his eyes. In fact... everything about the man looked... average. Except for maybe the hair. But that was in style and Kendall looked about thirty-five; he could get away with it.
He looked exactly like he sounded: young, smooth and energetic without going too far toward sleazy. "Tristan Taylor from this morning," Kendall's gaze shifted to Serenity, "And you'd be Serenity. What are you doing to my assistant?" He glanced past them towards Nala, who flashed a grin and waved him off.
"Come on in, we'll get started," Kendall stepped aside to welcome them into his office - little more than a glorified closet, lined with shelves, file cabinets, and Post-It notes. He closed the door as they entered, and pointed out the pair of suede blue armchairs opposite his desk, out of keeping with the rest of the room, and took a seat across from them.
"So you probably know already, but my name is Kendall Seec. Tristan outlined the bare details for me," his gaze shifted to Serenity, smile and his eyes frank, "but I'd like to know your story from you. What are you looking for?"
...That's a really good question... "Not to get hurt again," she said hesitantly, gaze level. "I want-- just-- I want him to leave me alone. And to pay for what he did." The image of a century-old barn burning away to sodden ash blurred through her mind, followed by the pinpoint-sharp image of Marin Jotteson's face when confronting her youngest son. "He's hurt more people than just me. That's what I want."
She drew a deep breath, beginning. "I met h-- met Steven Gant when we were in high school. I was kind of shy, and he was nice; attentive, I guess you'd say." It was easier, really, thinking about how things had been then; and Serenity clasped her hands loosely together, hooking just the fingertips and resting them on her knees as she spoke.
***
"Soda?"
The redheaded girl raised her face from where it had been resting against her drawn-up knees and blinked. "Uh-- what?"
"Soda," explained the blond boy leaning casually against the wall a few feet away; he offered one of the two Sprites he was holding. "The machine kicked out a free one, and you kinda look like you could use it."
Sixteen years old and miserable, Serenity Wheeler automatically reached out for the offered comfort of carbonated sugar and took the can. "...thanks?" Noises from Hunter's basketball court less than a dozen feet away echoed against the high walls and rattled the chain-link fences.
The boy-- he had to be about her age (and cute, too she thought privately)-- looked vaguely familiar, smiling down at her where she sat on the curb, back pressed against warm brickwork. "No big deal," he said with just enough of a shrug; "I had an extra. What's wrong? You okay?" He had an accent; not the usual familiar New York quickness, something slower and more laid-back. And he was smiling just a little as he popped the seal on his own drink.
Smiling at her. That was better than a Sprite, especially right now. "Yeah, I'm okay, just..." Serenity flushed belatedly; you didn't tell a cute boy you were dying of cramps, oh GOD no. "...just kinda sick at the stomach. Chili-dogs at lunch today, y'know?" And the frickin' period from hell. Mother Nature hates my guts.
The boy snorted, taking a swallow; passing the extra can over, he held up both hands with fingers crooked as if to frame mock headlines. "'School Lunch Poisoning Attempt Fails Yet Again-- Film At Eleven'," he said in easy teenaged mockery before picking his own soda back up again. "They keep trying, but hey, we're like cockroaches." The sidelong look he gave her was a step above what most boys his age could manage: a little cocky, a little appraising, a little appreciative. His eyes were startlingly pale below the overlong fall of ash-blond hair, and as he took another long swallow he gave Serenity that smile again; she could just see the quirk of his mouth behind the aluminum rim.
He IS cute. Serenity raised her voice a little to be heard over the clamor of of teenage voices and the rapid-fire bounce of the basketball as it blurred past, headed downcourt and traveling fast. "What, we're brown and disgusting and live in sewers? Eeew." Post-adolescent humor fell a little flat, but the snort of laughter she got back made her feel like a point had been scored. She watched the stampede of her fellow students go by again, this time in the other direction and accompanied by voluble swearing; somebody had the ball and wouldn't let it go, and from somewhere in the mass Serenity could hear her twin Joey laughing. "Um, thanks for the soda. I'm--"
Clink! Metal on concrete; condensation on aluminum made a single faint ring as the blond boy tilted his drink idly back and forth, beads of clear soda sliding along the edge like liquid glass. "--Red. Yeah, I heard one of your friends call you that." Light blue eyes met hers with encouraging directness, and she flushed.
"Serenity. Not 'Red'," the girl replied firmly. That name was for her brothers to use, and maybe one or two others.
"'Serenity', right, got it. Hey, 'Ren." That smile again, and the cool blue eyes were like calm, shallow water, depthless but inviting. "I'm Steven. You--" The clamor of the school buzzer announcing the end of Gym drowned him out. He rolled his eyes, pulling himself up into a crouch against the red bricks and held out a hand in a wordless offer of help.
The girl hesitated, then gave an internal shrug. What could it hurt, anyway? He was just being nice, and he was kind of hot.
So when she took his hand, this time she smiled back as well.
* * *
Both Kendall and Tristan listened attentively. To Kendall the story was new. For Tristan, the plot was familiar but the details were new.
Kendall took no written notes, but gave Serenity the full span of his focus, forearms folded and resting on the desk. He asked pointed questions from time to time, guiding the conversation as the story progressed quickly through the high school relationship and into Serenity's college years with Steven.
"--You mentioned that he was jealous and controlling from time to time while you were dating early on, but it didn't worry you then. What changed your mind?" Kendall asked.
Eyes raised, a little startled and then considering. "He'd done a few things when we were younger; scared some've my friends off, been too possessive, but... I guess it was when we were in college that I really started wondering if something was wrong." Serenity gave a half-shrug. "Other people were wondering too."
* * *
"--sort've intense, girl, you better watch out he don' think you plannin' t'let him have more'n you wanta give, huh?" Gina Hernandez' heavy Jamaican-flavored accent fought a losing battle against exasperation; she wiped her forehead with the back of one hand, perspiration sheening her dark skin. She elbowed the young woman crowded in beside her on the Canarsie Local, halfway back to the dorms and dog-tired on a hot August night. "Are you LISTENIN' to me? You wanna end up w'yer ass knocked up'n bigger than--"
"Jeeze, Gina, shut it, will you? I'm not gonna let him get me pregnant. And tell the whole freaking world, why don't you?" Scarlet with embarrassment, Serenity covered her eyes. "We're already sleeping together, anyway," she muttered as the subway train gave a lurch and began to brake as the next stop drew nearer. "But we're being careful, and beSIDES, nobody needs t'know if you'll keep your damn mouth shut."
"Yeah? So what's that on your neck, huh?" Gina watched her friend critically as the redhead did a fair job of matching her hair, one hand involuntarily rising. "Your mom's gonna shit fuckin' bricks when she sees that. And that blond brother've yours gonna shove 'em up that guy's--"
"GIIIIInah dammit everybody on the whole TRAIN can hear you!"
"--'til they come out his ears," the other girl concluded darkly. "An' then that Tristan'll shove 'em back through--" Gina had something of a crush on Tristan; she liked his hair.
"GINA. Shut it."
"--an' anyway. You said he got int'your laptop? What're you using for passwords, your birthday?" Gina leaned back, grimacing as the plastic behind her stuck to her perspiration-damp skin. "I don' like him. He sneaks."
"What? Gina, he's-- what'd'you mean, 'sneaks'?" Half-laughing, Serenity leaned back as well.
"He does. Y'know? He's always there, he always knows where you are, where you've been. Shit, he knows your class schedule better'n you do, an..." Gina paused, dark eyes frowning. Steven knew other things too; she'd seen him watching, not just Serenity, but Serenity's friends. It was enough to make a person a little paranoid.
"...just you be careful, okay? Just you be careful."
* * *
"If I'd known what he was gonna..." Tristan felt the rising pressure in the back of his skull, and squeezed his keys until the metal left red dents. He didn't let himself get angry much anymore, learning in the process about how to distract himself, like turning Axl's head away from a growling dog.
Beside him, Serenity shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "He wasn't always so horrible," she said quietly. "And nobody knew, so-- water under the bridge and all." The clasped fingers knotted together for a second before releasing, and his sister reached out tentatively to link them around his much larger ones and pull. She couldn't have pried them open, but they loosened slightly anyway. "If anybody should've known it was me. But people are good at being blind; that's what h-- Steven always counted on, and usually he was right." It was just a little easier to say his name now; funny. Usually it hurt even to think it.
When Serenity's voice touched Tristan's distinctly reddened thoughts and the bite of metal finally reached him through his numbed fingers, the desire to snap Steven's neck diluted.
"I know," Tristan muttered, barely mollified, but relaxed for Serenity's sake. It was easier to stop being angry if he was doing it for her.
Kendall regarded them with curiosity, but made no comment, allowing the scene to play out without his intervention. He waited until a suitable time passed before gently steering the discussion on course.
"Did anything happen after you ended the relationship?" he asked.
The redhead gave what might've been a smile under other circumstances. "'Ended' doesn't really come into it. The relationship kind of died on one side and kept going on the other, only inside his head. He--" (she swallowed) "S-Steven-- We'd fight, and then he'd do something to get me to make up with him, only it'd be wrong..."
* * *
The screaming fight the day before had left Serenity drained and apprehensive, and the walk back after her last lab had been too long. Now, backpack dragging by one strap from her hand, she fumbled with her keys twice before finally turning the knob.
Thud. The backpack slid to the floor as the lights came on, and the scent drifted out into the dorm foyer.
White flowers, carnations and roses and daisies, white flowers; wrapped in cellophaned bundles or lying loose on the unmade bed, petals scattered across the carpet like wilting confetti. White flowers in her coffee-mug, drooping down from where they'd been stuck between books on the shelf above the bed, heaped in confusion on her pillow. White flowers everywhere.
And all she could do was stand there, gaping. A half hour later when Steven came by, smiling and almost apologetic (without ever once actually making an apology) there was armistice, at least for a while.
But it would've been better later on, much better maybe, if she'd taken the time to wonder just how Steven had gotten into her room.
* * *
"He could be really charming when he wanted to be. But then he, well..." She stopped; rubbed at her eyes and sighed, then looked up. "I never really knew if he got kicked out or just quit; we'd had a lot of fights about his drinking, and I, um, kind of got too much into the party scene myself for a while." Serenity shrugged, making a face like she'd tasted something bitter before dropping her gaze back to her lap. "I got out of that, and he didn't like it. Guess I was easier to handle when all I wanted to do was go out clubbing or get tanked with my friends."
"So... we broke up four times, five; and we got, or I thought we'd gotten a little distance between us. Only, we hadn't. He was still watching me."
Kendall nodded. Tristan had mentioned this to him, as well as briefly (very briefly) skimming over the events that followed. Tristan's secondhand account was filled with his own personal bias; everything of bitterness and anger and very little about the person it was directed at.
"How did you find--?" Kendal asked. He reached for the spring water on his desk, and interrupted himself. "Wait - I'm pushing. Would either of you like something to drink? We've got Strawberry Crush, Orange Crush, R.C. and bottled water."
A few minutes later, Orange Crush cradled in her hands, the young woman loosened up enough to sit back in her chair rather than perch in it; she hadn't realized that she'd been more or less huddling defensively on the edge until she'd stopped. "You must hear this kind of thing a lot," she remarked softly, fingers tracing lines in the condensation on the can.
Kendall returned to his former posture, fingers working over a fold in his shirtsleeve. "If by that you mean stalking and obsessive behavior, yeah. It's a specialty of mine, I guess because I know how a person like Steven works.
"Serenity, maybe you made one bad call. Lots of people do that; some of them end up in this office. I don't think less of them for it. You're doing something about it, which means you aren't letting the fear control your life, and you haven't convinced yourself that you deserve it. If you're worried about what I think--" Kendall shrugged, lifting his fingers from his forearms briefly, "--don't, because I'm a jerk. But you didn't just give up, and I respect that."
She studied her fingers; in the chair beside her Tristan was a large, warm presence, reassuring and just a little surreal by his simply being there after so long. She could feel him radiating anxiety and anger like a fire. "I gave up for a year and a half," she muttered. "That doesn't deserve respect. I left my mess behind and a little kid got--" She couldn't say it: tainted, warped, stained. By him, because I let it happen. Did I really believe if I didn't see him that meant he wasn't there anymore? "I ran away, I was such a huge coward, and if I hadn't had help I'd still be there, you know that?" Serenity raised her gaze to meet Kendall's defiantly, displaying her own shame and self-loathing like a dirty flag. Her voice was thin, sharp and creased with pain. "Even if I didn't deserve it, it was MY problem! And I just... dumped it and ran. God."
The can of Orange Crush creaked in Serenity's grip, echoing her stress with its own metallic voice. "How could I do that? I don't even know WHY he, why St-- S-St--"
"...shit," she whispered. "It's hard to even say his name. Why?"
Kendall filed Serenity's tirade away without a reaction, dispassionately filing away the interesting bits -- what little kid, ran where, why a year -- for later scrutiny. It was part of the job, and he was good at it, but it was one more reason why he didn't get involved in his clients' problems any more than he ended up in them by default. He, of all people they could possibly use as a support, was the worst candidate.
"Names have power," Kendall replied quietly, "take a look at Betelgeuse. Say it three times and he appears."
"Saying someone's name can give you power over them," Tristan added as the memory from a book disturbed his circular thoughts, and reached over to curl his hand around Serenity's wrist, gently removing the can from her fingers. He spoke for the sake of doing something other than radiating impotent anger, and wasn't surprised when Kendall shot him an inquisitive look--but neither man followed up on it.
"Whatever happened before doesn't really matter, Serenity. The fact is, you're here now," Kendall said, shifting his attention back to the young woman. Advice, warning, suggestion--they waited in the back of his throat, but he didn't say them. "Do you still want to pursue this?"
...yes.
That much, at least, she was sure of; as sure as the fact that she wouldn't have to do it alone, not anymore. That eased up the rawness, made it a little better. After a second she realized that she hadn't said anything out loud. "Yes. Yes, I do." The young woman shrugged one shoulder, a tired gesture. "And he probably thinks I'm too chickensh-- uh, scared to do anything like this, so..." She trailed off, thinking hard. "And... this last thing he did, there's something I don't think he considered. That kid I mentioned?" Serenity tilted her head, red hair falling across one side of her face and half-hiding it as she almost smiled. "He met S-Steven; he's a witness, knows where he was and when he was there. So there's at least one person besides me who can point fingers here for a change. Before, that's what made it so hard; nobody could say they'd witnessed him doing anything, not until it got really ugly at the end."
"...I guess you need to know all about that mess too, huh?" Serenity half-shrugged again, her gaze flicking over to Tristan before returning to Kendall Seec. I'm sorry, it said, and Thank you.
Tristan inclined his head just a fraction when his eyes met Serenity's, and he smiled in understanding and sympathy as his fingers found their way through hers.
Kendall's smile - if lacking somewhat in temperature - was no less earnest. "It couldn't hurt," he said.
Strength could be found in a lot of things. Serenity nodded, found a little more of hers in her brother's warm clasp, and began. "When I left here back in September-- that'd be last year, 2006-- I went to this little town in Connecticut, Ash Springs, and rented a room at a friend's family's place. It went okay at first; I settled in, found work, kind of hid out for a few months and let my nerves settle, y'know? And I thought he'd let things go after he figured out he couldn't find me. I really should've known better, but-- anyway. Hope springs eternal, I guess." She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. "So when nothing happened, I started thinking about moving back."
"But then last May I got this note in the mail..."
Silent as the books on his shelves, Kendall listened.
* * * * *
Photos of the crumpled slips of tan paper-- all she had, the originals were with the police back in Connecticut-- lay spread out across Kendall Seec's desk, along with copies of police reports and shots of the charred ruins of an old barn. Serenity sat back in her chair, quieter and a little steadier now; she had traced out her stay in Ash Springs and explained Davey Jotteson's involvement as calmly as possible. "I haven't seen Steven yet," she said quietly; the momentary stumble over her ex-boyfriend's name was less pronounced now, like a jagged bit of brick underfoot wearing just that much smoother with use. "But what he did was designed to drive me back here, and here I am... so he's here too, somewhere."
Kendall turned the photos over slowly, then read the dates on the police reports. The barn was interesting - but he laid it aside for closer study. "Almost certain," he said, "so one of the first things we need to find out is his location. The other is to establish a pattern of behavior. These sorts of people may seem unpredictable, but everyone behaves more or less by a series of habits, and if we understand his, we may be able to guess what he's doing next and beat him to the punch."
"A friend of ours mentioned... doing things that make her look less like... a target?" Tristan carefully edited prey from the sentence, "will that help?"
"I suggest that to all of my clients in similar situations," Kendall nodded. "Changing your usual habits, going home by different routes on a regular basis, shopping at different grocery stores, etcetera. I highly recommend taking a self-defense course. If it never comes to that, it will help increase your outward confidence - and that alone may make you less appealing."
Serenity was silent for a moment. "That's been suggested," she said slowly, "and it's a good idea. And 'home', well-- that's kind of a moot point right now. Haven't got one yet, but I will." She crossed on leg over the other, huddling just a little with her arms wrapped tight around each other; everything in her posture said 'guard' and 'closed'. She made a wry face; "If I don't even know where it'll be yet, I kind of doubt he can." Still, she shivered; it was easy to see the scenarios playing themselves out in her mind: walking home in the anonymous spark-lit dark of a city night, taking the subway in a crowd of strangers (or worse), catching a bus and finding the only available space to be next to an all-too-familiar smile... Hey, Red. Wondered when I'd catch up with you-- shhh, don't scream, you don't want me to have to stop you, do you...?
"He's not omnipotent," Serenity muttered, deliberately loosening her stance and sitting back, hands tight on the chair arms. "He's not. He just wants me to think he is. And I won't."
...probably not, anyway, said her white-knuckled grip. Probably not.
Kendall's gaze flickered from Serenity's face to study her posture; the paling ridges of her knuckles. "No, Serenity, he isn't," he confirmed, and leaned a little forward on his elbows over the photographs and report copies. "From what you've said and what I can guess, he's clever and he understands human behavior--at least as far as it relates to fear. But you aren't helpless, and in my opinion you've done the right thing. Not hiring me," Kendall spread his hands and leaned back once again, "by asking for help, period. Friends, family, and me. Instead of going it alone. You've done well by not letting him isolate you. Keep that up."
She hitched one shoulder up just a little and then let it drop. "I have good people all around me," Serenity answered quietly, "and if I didn't let them help, they'd do it anyway. Couldn't just... leave them out, even if I thought I could go it alone, could I?" Her gaze dropped to her lap for a second before rising again, and there was a hint of a challenge in the way her chin came up this time. "So-- what'll you do next? What does a P.I. do at this point, and--" she hesitated, tilting her head a little. "--do we need to call you or anything?"
"And can we afford you?" Tristan asked quietly, running his knuckles lightly down Serenity's arm in a quick gesture of support. "Seto Kaiba referred us, and I believe in paying for quality, but I'd kind of like to get the sticker shock out of the way."
Kendall caught the shift in Serenity's posture, and allowed a small but approving smile for them both. "I do my job. Dig into whatever I can find about him, where he is. Like I said before, I'll look him up, follow him, take some pictures. See if there's other girls, check out the court records, look for patterns. I can report back to you as often as you want me to - every day, every week, every month, you name it. As for the cost--" his gaze shifted to Tristan, "Tell me how much you want to spend, I'll tell you how many hours that's worth, you'll get an itemized statement every month, and when we hit that ceiling we can re-evaluate." He took a breath as he came to the end of the familiar, mechanical paragraph, and sat back, "Plus, you can re-evaluate at any point during the process." Kendall's smile widened a fraction, "I work for you. You tell me how it goes down. I'll tell you what I think needs done next, but it's always your call."
Serenity smiled gratefully at her brother's gesture-- and at his questions and the other man's answer. The price had been preying on her mind more than a little as well. Something else came to mind, though... "Back in Connecticut the police said they were going to try to contact him too, but there wasn't enough cause to swear out a warrant or anything. Wonder if they've talked to him yet?" And I wonder if I'll have to too? hung in the air, unspoken but vivid.
Tristan relaxed at Kendall's response to his worries about the possible bill. He cared quite a bit for Seto Kaiba, admired him and respected his opinion, but if there was one department where the man was a little... selectively blind... it was income differences. Seto wouldn't think twice about hiring an investigator if he would fill the man's needs, regardless of the cost. Tristan knew Kendall would have to be good to get Seto's referral, but he'd been expecting to need a bank loan. If they could only afford a few days' worth of work at first, it would still be more than they'd had, and the man seemed experienced and not likely to bill for wasted hours.
Sensing a positive shift in both of his potential clients, Kendall let out a small breath he'd been holding. "If you want, I can check that out first."
The young woman nodded. "It's a starting place. I don't know how they'll be about sharing info, but..." and she paused, one corner of her mouth twitching. "...but that's the sort of thing you'd know about, right? Or at least," and the twitch shaped itself into a momentary smile again, "that's what the television PIs do. Bet it's not that simple, huh?"
At Serenity's quip, Kendall cracked his widest grin of the afternoon.
"I know a guy who knows a guy," he said.
They spent fifteen minutes or so discussing terms, cost, legalities, and the rest of the small details that logically followed the decision to contract Kendall Seec. When they left his office, Nala waited a few minutes before intruding on her employer's thoughtful silence.
Kendall was looking at the entryway when she came in. His brows lifted. "...You had something to add?"
"That little gal," Nala started, hugging the doorframe, "is she gonna be okay? I was eavesdropping."
"From today? Yes," Kendall replied. "Deep pit, heavy shovel. But she's a fighter like that rottweiler she brought in with her - people like them don't stay off-kilter long when someone takes a piece out of their control."
"When do you start?" Nala asked, after a pause. Even after only a few short weeks as his intern, she already knew that he liked it better when she left his observations unembroidered.
"Tonight. Only other case I have is McEnroy, and he's out of the country. With," he added at Nala's lowered eyelids and quirked mouth, "the blonde assistant from Sacramento."
"Poor kid,"
"Pity McEnroy," Kendall shuffled a few papers into a folder and reached for his satchel as he rose, "his lapkitten's wanted in Utah for fraud. Millionaire, no prenup, and the gold-digging pet Persian's gonna take him for whatever his wife doesn't get first."
"That's life," Nala shrugged, dismissing their current target's future troubles with a cool lack of sympathy.
"And that's why I'll never get married. You females, you're all so tough." Kendall replied in a mock-despairing tone as he exited. Nala laughed.
Go back to Part 1