Frank Driver, Private Eye

I approached her with my hand outstretched, but she just looked at it.

"I'm, uh, Mrs. Jackson," she stammered. I got the feeling that she wasn't entirely sure about the etiquette. I lowered my hand and waved her to the seat in front of the desk.

"This is Miss Malone," I said, indicating Tammi. "She's my assis-"

"Partner," Tammi interrupted.

"Junior partner," I corrected, glaring at Tammi. If you're going to play it that way...

"She's not got her license yet."

Tammi glared right back.

"Anyway, what can we do for you?" I asked, returning my focus on Mrs. Jackson.

"It's my boy," she said. "I think he's done something stupid."

"Boys can do that," I nodded, sagely.

At that, Mrs. Jackson fixed her gaze on me pointedly. "Not like this," she said. "See, Mr. Driver, he wants to be a private eye, like you."

I grunted. "Well, have him come talk with me," I said at an attempt at levity. "I'll show him that no one wants to be like me."

"That's just it, Mr. Driver," she said. "He has talked to you."

I was confused. She reached into her purse and pulled out a photograph. I suddenly had a sinking feeling as I took the photo from her hand. I didn't want to look at the picture of the boy.

"He said you told him that he'd make a great private eye. Is that true, Mr. Driver?"

My stomach fell to a resting spot just below my ankles. "Uh," I gulped. Christ, what exactly had I said to him?

"I just meant... I mean..." Somehow I didn't think I was going to convince an anxious mother of my original intent of giving Marcus a compliment.

Mrs. Jackson didn't raise her voice, but she had the pointed delivery of a worried mother. "I think he looks up to you, Mr. Driver," she said. She nodded at the photo in my hand. "That man in the photo with Marcus was my husband, Elijah. He disappeared about a year ago."

Even after a year, the photo seemed relatively new. It likely had been framed since being developed. It showed a good-looking black man in his late twenties or early thirties, smiling broadly. He was holding two small children - a toddler and an infant - in both arms. At his side was Marcus, definitely younger but still recognizable, a broad grin splashed across his face. Marcus had both arms wrapped around his father's waist.

It was the picture-perfect scene of a happy family. I thought about the serious boy I had come to know over the past few days, and I got a sudden grasp of how much loss Marcus had endured and how quickly he had to grow up to become the man of the family.

"I think Marcus went to go find his daddy," Mrs. Jackson continued. "I think he went to... investigate... what happened to him."

I had a hard time tearing my eyes away from the photograph. Finally, I looked up at Mrs. Jackson.

"I want you to..." she trailed off, and then waved her hand in front of her face. "Mr. Driver, I need you to find my Marcus."

I looked from Mrs. Jackson to the photograph and back again.

Dammit.