From first impressions, Spence expected her story to come out in a halting rush, like the reality of her words was just out of reach. The impulsive decision to tell her he already knew the basics of what happened to her parents came from that expectation, he supposed. Usually he wanted to hear the client’s version of the story without letting slip how much he already knew about them before they walked through his door. A strong part of him, apparently, wanted to spare her the emotional turmoil of reliving such an incomprehensible tragedy through the retelling of it.
That was twice now he’d broken his own rules for Eleanor Taft. Practically a pattern. If this meeting were the beginning one of his favorite noir movies, this would be the moment the down-on-his-luck detective’s voiceover would say something like, if only I knew then what I know now. If only I hadn’t made such an amateur mistake. But for now, at least, it didn’t feel like a mistake. Even if he didn’t get the whole story, he still got her reaction to it – or non-reaction, in this case.
Once reminded of her loss, she bypassed it quickly. A lesser detective might have taken that as a sign of guilt, but with his background as a therapist Spence knew what it really was. Simple dissociation, a textbook coping mechanism. Judging from the distance with which she took in her surroundings as opposed to the intense clarity of her eye contact, she was no stranger to the kind of selective thinking a person needed to survive the worst life could throw at them. Still, as he listened to her, he had a sneaking suspicion that wasn’t the only reason she refrained from elaborating about her parents.
And then there it was. The missing piece that made some sense out of this otherwise straightforward missing persons case. Twins.
Of course. Spence’s posture changed at the word, as if relaxing into familiar territory. Such a crucial detail not to come across in background, but not surprising, either. Young identical twins might have made the papers as an extra, eye-catching, and eerie detail; adult fraternal twins, not so much. But it made all the difference here, didn’t it? For one, it explained the desperate drive that brought her to him – and, for another, the dramatic change in her bearing as she spoke about her brother. Less anxious and more abject, but stronger, too. Just thinking about him bolstered her, in spite of all the worry and the fear. Made her seem more like the person she probably was before her brother went missing.
Spence suddenly felt a pang, wishing that was the Eleanor he was meeting and not the one that was before him now. That was the crappy thing about being a PI. You hardly ever got to meet new people at their best. But, then again, that was the great thing about being Dale Cooper. Even at someone's lowest, he still saw them as the best versions of themselves, just as Spence could see the real Eleanor somewhere through the veil of so much destabilizing loss. He liked that Eleanor. And he wanted very much to help her.
“I’ll certainly try.” It was the most honest thing he could promise, and he did so without patronizing her, wordlessly moving a box of tissues in front of her instead. “I don’t want to get your hopes up – sometimes no matter what I do, there’s not a happy ending – but I’ll do my best, and trust me when I say that my best is very good.”
Spence smiled kindly, with a look in his eyes that said he was fully aware of what he sounded like, but it wasn’t his ego talking. It was just the truth. “The twin thing might make it easier, actually. My younger brothers are twins, and I thought it was a coincidence when I hired Victoria – she’s a twin, too – but now…” He laughed incredulously. “Well, it’s a little weird, isn’t it? I seem to attract you guys like bears to honey.”
Shaking his head, Spence’s eyes fell on the safe next to the filing cabinet in the corner of the room behind Eleanor. Inside the safe was a ring he would never take out, and never wear. “Which is all the better for me, honestly,” he said a little distantly. “Dale and me, we thrive on weird.” His focus shifted back to the woman in front of him, as if it never drifted in the first place. “Speaking of, your brother – is he a reincarnate?”