P.I

What’s my name? Only the truly desperate know. The ones that would do anything to find the truth. The ones that can stomach my methods. You don’t go to a private investigator for half assed work, you go to find the whole truth and nothing else. So, to answer your earlier question: my name’s Trevor Baker and I’m a P.I or, if you want to get fancy with it, a private investigator.

“No, no that’s not it.” Trevor said pacing back and forth in his apartment office. There was really nothing special with his apartment office. It was a three-room apartment. One bedroom, a living room, and a kitchen. Those were the significant rooms at least. He had set up an office in the living room. Opening the door all you could see would be a desk with filing cabinets all along the side of the walls. Those were where Trevor had kept all his files. All the missing persons report, the who cheated on who reports and, his personal favorite, who faked their own death to get away from a crazy spouse. He had a total of 4 cases related to that. Even had one framed. Trevor had two different clients coming in and he wanted to make a good impression on them. Trevor was one of the best P. I’s out there but because he remained a ghost, he had very few cases and his name was not known. To the innocent that is.

“Maybe start with a joke?” Trevor said, “No, who the hell starts a meeting with a joke, unless they are the joke.”

He then heard a knock at the door. Trevor took a slight breath in, looked at the clock and prepared himself. He walked towards the door and opened it. He found a young woman with bruises all over.

“Come in” he said with a slight concern in his voice.

The woman walked in and said nothing. She was breathing heavily and took her seat. She looked at Trevor as he looked back with a look on his face.

“So, what happened?” he said in a still and very monotone voice.

“I need proof that my husband is cheating on me.” she said.

“What’s his name?”

“Cory Mendes” she said with a fearful look on her face.

“Okay we’ll see you back in a week. I should have enough pictures to prove more than guilt.”

“That’s it?” she said with a confused look on her face.

“Yes, what’d you expect a whole run down, holding your hand and ice cream telling your long story?” Trevor said with a sarcastic tone.

“I don’t know, maybe a little more sympathy.” she said now sitting straight up leaning forward towards him.

“Lady look,” Trevor said, sitting back into his chair, “I don’t care about your little sob story. We all have had sad things happen to us okay. Why waste my time telling me how you thought he was the love of your life and you thought you’d be together forever, it isn’t true. I get the job done and that’s really all you should care about okay? I don’t care about your name, I don’t care about your bruise, you don’t concern me. You want proof I’ll give it to you.”

“You know what?” she said standing up and walking away, “you’re a jerk and I don’t need your help.”

And there she walked out the door. Trevor sighed. He stood up looking out the window. He didn’t really feel that way, but Trevor has had a bad past that tends to make him a little defensive. He looked at the clock he had one more client about to come in two hours. He sat back into his chair thinking about that day. The day he buried his mother. He remembered everything from that day. The way the rain fell on the umbrellas the way his father was distant with him. His father was a U.S marine so he wasn’t home often after her death. Trevor’s father spent a lot of time teaching him self defence up before his mom had died. After that day he had learned to not get attached to any case he would have. No sympathy, no remorse. Trevor then heard a knock at the door. He stood up and walked towards the door to open it. It was an older man with a grey stubble beard. He had a slight belly and was semi bald.

“You’re not my 3 o’clock.” Trevor said.

“No, I’m not,” the man said in a calm voice, “but I need something from you.”

“Listen, dude, I don’t take walk-ins and frankly, I’m quite busy.”

The man looked around the room only to see the most boring, uneventful, still room he had ever seen. He looked right back at Trevor with a smirk.

“Clearly,” he said sarcastically and still smirked, “but you’re going to want to take this case, Mr. Baker. I need the best and you are one of them.”

“How’d you get my name?” Trevor asked, he knew he was good but how did this old man know his name?

“Let’s just say, I have a certain set of skills in your area.” he said looking dead into Trevor’s eyes. Trevor looked at him confused without saying a word he needed to pick his words carefully then he spoke.

“Yeah, um, okay like I said I’m very busy.” Trevor did not want to take his case there was something off about this guy and he felt it. He did not intend on putting himself in hot water again.

“Mr. Baker, I strongly suggest you listen to me,” he said, “my name is Nathaniel Bridges and I have a missing persons case, my daughter.”

“Okay fine.” Trevor said letting him in. Either he was so desperate to find his daughter he gave off the vibes of a psychopath or he actually was one. Either way he could pay him. Trevor walked him to the desk. As he was walking Trevor was examining everything about this guy the way he walked, the positioning, the little scar on his forehead. It looked fresh, still some swelling and red. Trevor sat down and so did Nathaniel.

“So, can I call you Nate?” Trevor asked to ease the mood.

“Mia Bridges,” he said, handing over a file.

“Your daughter?”

“You pick up fast.” Nathaniel said sarcastically.

“Okay tell me what happened then.”

“She ran away.”

“That’s it?” Trevor asked, surprised he had expected more, “if she ran away why are you here? Just go to the police. You would have a better chance of finding her with them.”

“No police.” Nathaniel said.

“No? What? Why not? If she ran away 100% of the time they’re coming back. Maybe don’t be such a dick of a father next time.”

“Let’s just say it’s too high profile for them.” Nathaniel said ignoring the comment Trevor had just dropped. Normally any self-respecting client would get up and leave. Trevor had been disrespectful and unwilling, yet he still stayed.

“What do you mean high profile?” Trevor said, now intrigued.

“Listen the police will be no help, her mother was a former FBI; she taught her everything she knows how to stay hidden, off the grid.”

“And you need someone like me to find her.”

“Precisely.” Nathaniel said.

“Okay fine, you want my help, you got it.” Trevor said, laying back into his chair.

“Mr. Baker, I must warn you though, dangerous people are looking for her as well.”

“Yeah, whatever I’ll be fine.” Trevor said fixing some of his paperwork up and making room for this new case. Nathaniel walked out the door looking back to Trevor, and then he left. Trevor looked back up at him right before he left. He knew something didn’t feel right with that guy, but he still needed the money. “Just find the girl and bring her home.” He thought over and over trying to get rid of that gut wrenching feeling. Trevor thought of his game plan. He had intended to treat this as any normal missing person case but the fact that she knew how to stay off the grid, he would need to rethink his ideology. Trevor sat there for hours thinking of how he could find her, but nothing came to mind. He stood up and looked out the window. Trevor’s mind often wandered off thinking of a life he could have had. He went over to the kitchen to prepare some coffee or anything he could drink. He thought of possible connections in the file Nathaniel had given him. From what he saw there was no one that could help him with this case. Whatever he thought of she would have thought of as well. Trevor walked back to his seat and sat down with a loud sigh. He looked over at the picture of him and his father when he was a boy.

“I don’t know dad,” Trevor said looking at the picture. He knew that it wouldn’t talk back but it helped him think, “do you ever think of mom? Yeah, I do all the time. Do you know what life would have been like if she never died? Do you think about it?” still looking at the picture. His reflection barely shown on the glass. He looked down at the ground and sighed.

“Wait, the dad,” Trevor thought, looking back up, “why look at it from Mia’s angel when I can look at it from Nate’s. He was the reason she ran away, but why? If the mother were FBI, he would know how to find her. Trevor didn’t focus on the why but rather more than on the how to find her. He finally had a start, and he went to review the file anything to do with Nathaniel. Trevor was good at his job finding the general details of him was easy for him. Nathaniel Bridges was a scientist specializing in nanotechnology. He worked at N.I.C.C.S. alongside Dr. Henry Pluven. That would be Trevor’s first interview. He researched some of the projects Bridges and Pluven had been on together. They have worked together for 39 years but only two projects of theirs were published. Something didn’t add up. Compared to the other scientists there they all have published 4-6 research in half that time. Trevor noted this down in a way to manipulate him. Seeing his picture Pluven would crack under pressure. He was a skinny man at least 5’6 or 5’7 a full head of hair. Trevor did more digging into him. He learnt about his wife, three kids, address. By the next hour Trevor would know Pluven better than Bridges. Trevor looked at the time he was going to go talk to Pluven about all Bridges. He got out of his seat and went to get his coat from his bedroom. Just as he did, he heard a knock on the door. Trevor went to open the door. To his surprise he saw three agents standing at the door. He was going to go see Dr. Pluven.