by Regan Black
“It is.” Mary-Tea pulled a crumpled flyer from her pocket and pushed it toward Aubrey. “So stop this.”
“I have to hang them up,” she explained gently. “It’s my job.”
“I don’t think you should.” Mary-Tea shrank back.
Aubrey inched closer. “Why not?”
“She’s safe, Officer Aubrey.”
“And you think the flyers will make her unsafe?”
Mary-Tea nodded furtively and then scurried backward.
Aubrey resisted the urge to give chase. Mary-Tea had a mother-hen tendency to nurture those who let her. Impossible to know for sure if she considered Lara her newest chick in the nest, but it seemed likely.
How could a search for Lara put her at additional risk? Maybe she hadn’t come out here simply to figure out where the system broke down, as Rosie suggested. But what else could have driven Lara into hiding on the street? Worse, searching for a woman who didn’t want to be found was pretty much an exercise in futility, regardless of who suffered from her absence.
Aubrey moved back onto the street, second-guessing herself as she continued tacking up flyers and asking if Lara had been seen. This was her job. Without any evidence to back up Mary-Tea’s assertion that they would create trouble for Lara, she had to continue.
Flyers for the missing went up and were taken down every day. Or so it seemed. More than a little bummed out by the low success rate, Aubrey finished the task and headed to her apartment for a much-needed break from the weather and city.
Her building, classic red brick with arched windows, was centered in a block of refurbished properties converted to apartments. Her street was doing its best to return to its heyday as a family-friendly neighborhood. She lived with a core of stable residents plus several that transitioned through the year. Grad students came and went with each academic term and occasionally a new professor would move in before realizing it was better to have more distance from the campus. In the building next door, someone frequently rented space to tourists, which kept them all entertained.
She loved the job, loved walking the beat with Calvin and talking with permanent residents and business owners as well as the college students passing through each semester. There was an upbeat vibe to the area that she happily cultivated.
Nothing wrong with being happy. Not even when there was someone like Leo Butler out there miserable and worried. There were highs and lows in every shift and if she could find his sister with a snap of her fingers, she would’ve done so.
Planning to stay in for the night, Aubrey traded her uniform for her comfy sweatpants, thick socks, a silk undershirt and a chunky sweater. She poured leftover stew into a pan, reheating it on the stovetop while she turned on the television and flipped through channels for some lighthearted background noise.
Finding a local weather report, she paused, thinking of Hulbert’s knee. It sure looked like the notoriously achy joint was right again. Flurries tonight would make the city sparkle in the morning and brighten her walk to work. Scanning forward, she looked for something more interesting. Finding an old favorite movie, a romantic comedy with an edge of suspense, she turned up the volume, listening to the familiar lines while she poured her stew into a bowl. Tucked into the couch, she enjoyed the simple meal and tried to forget her day, or more precisely, the overwrought brother who continued to dominate her thoughts.
She couldn’t do any more for him tonight, yet she couldn’t seem to let it go. She picked up her cell phone to check in with the precinct and jumped when it rang in her hand. Answering, she winced and pulled the phone away from her ear when clanging sounds poured through the speaker.
“Aubrey? Hey, it’s Jason.”
“Hi.” She’d met Jason during a CPR recertification course. After a brief stint as an active firefighter, he seemed happier in his new role as manager for a nightclub owned and operated by a former cop down at the riverside pier. Except the club had burned down months ago and wasn’t yet rebuilt. “Is this your grand reopening night or something?”
“No. Hang on.” The background noise faded away. “Sorry. I’m in the office now. I’m pulling taps at Pomeroy’s.”
The neighborhood pub was about halfway between Lara’s former campus and Aubrey’s apartment. “Sounds like a busy night.”
“Busy enough. You know how people get when they’re gearing up to be snowed in. I’ve got a guy in here roaming around, asking questions about the Butler girl on that flyer you posted today.”
Smothering a sigh, Aubrey offered up Leo’s description. She wasn’t done working tonight after all.
“No, that’s not him,” Jason said. “This guy isn’t upset—he’s slick. Or trying to be. Black hair with too much product and he’s a smoker. In and out twice for a cigarette in the last hour.”
She immediately pictured a young John Travolta in the role of a mob enforcer. “Age?”
“I’d put him at midthirties or better,” Jason said. “I just added a second Citywide Special for him and one for the girl he’s chatting up to his tab. He’ll be here for a bit if you have time to come take a look at him.”
“On my way,” she said, hoping the words went through before she ended the call. Anyone asking about Lara could be a lead.
Swapping the comfy sweats for a pair of jeans, she figured the sweater would fit in well enough with the normal Pomeroy crowd. Still, she took a minute to brush her hair, added mascara and lip gloss to sell the idea that she was a neighbor out to meet friends instead of an off-duty cop eager for information.
She should’ve asked Jason to sneak a picture of the guy asking about Lara. Jason had probably thought of that on his own. And the bar probably had a camera angle that would give her a good view of the man’s face if he left before she arrived.
Pulling on her coat and gloves, she looped her scarf around her neck as she dashed down the stairs. Naturally, the temperature had dropped significantly after sunset and as she neared the popular little pub, the foot traffic increased. She wound her way through the pedestrians who weren’t in such a hurry and finally reached Pomeroy’s front door. The bouncer recognized her and insisted on checking her ID. They both knew the PPD could ticket him and the bar if he didn’t. “Good job,” she joked as she put away her identification and stuffed her gloves into her pockets.
Undoing her coat, she glanced around as if she really expected to see friends on her way to the bar. The crowd wasn’t too bad, though the music was cranked up to a volume designed to prevent all but the most determined conversation.
She didn’t see anyone she knew other than Jason at the taps, taking care of customers. The man he’d described to her wasn’t in sight, either. “Good crowd,” she said, squeezing into an empty space at the bar.
“It’s a good night for Pomeroy’s,” Jason agreed. “I’ll be glad when Grant reopens his place.”
Aubrey gave herself a mental high five for letting that go without so much as a raised eyebrow. Grant Sullivan had served with the PPD for several years before he was forced into early retirement after being shot in the line of duty. His second career, opening the Escape Club down at the pier, had proved an immense success until an arsonist torched the place.
For all that Sullivan had invested, he hadn’t retired his instincts or desire to help. She’d heard about several occasions when Grant or members of his staff, like Jason, helped out victims—real or potential—rather than let the PPD handle those cases.
Most of her coworkers on the force admired Grant for his ongoing commitment to community. And with the rise of assaults during dates, all club owners needed to be aware and alert. In her opinion, Sullivan took things a step too far. Aubrey kept that to herself rather than open herself to criticism or argument with her peers.
She agreed that Sullivan was a great guy, but dishing out his own form of justice? That wasn’t a philosophy she could support. The legal system wasn’
t perfect, but it was far more reliable than one man’s interpretation of right and wrong.
“You look gloomy,” Jason observed, sliding a beer in front of her. “That’s not like you.”
“Gee, thanks.” She did try and adjust her expression to something friendlier. “I don’t see the guy you described.”
“He stepped out a few minutes ago, with the girl he was hitting on. He’ll be back.”
“You’re sure?”
“He didn’t strike me as the sort to be done for the night.”
“What did he want to know about Lara Butler?” she asked while she could.
“He tried the casual approach with me and a few of the customers, but he’s actively looking for her,” Jason replied.
That didn’t bode well. Jason had more practice than she did reading people in social settings. “All right, I’ll wait.” It had been a few weeks since she’d let herself just hang out and relax. The music wasn’t her favorite, but it hardly mattered. She sipped her beer, watching the crowd ebb and flow.
The faces were mostly young and most of them were newly legal by her estimation. Several were possibly pushing the boundary with fake IDs, although the bouncer was usually up on all the tricks and trends with that. She endured a brief internal debate and pushed the idea of spot-checking aside.
The pub had a good reputation and Jason was a stickler for the rules. If someone had gotten a fake ID past the bouncer and Jason, she probably wouldn’t catch it, either. Besides, in this neighborhood, because of the strict penalties for serving underage, those under twenty-one usually reserved their illegal drinking for house parties.
She was here for the man Jason described and throwing her weight around as a cop wouldn’t make observing or questioning him any easier.
Over the course of the next hour, she nursed her drink, courteously dissuaded two advances and still saw no sign of the man Jason had overheard asking about Lara. She finished off her beer, asked for a glass of water and gave herself five more minutes to observe.
The front door opened and, recognizing the new arrival, she nearly ordered a shot of tequila. Leo Butler was the last person she needed around while she was trying to do her job undercover. A zippy hum of awareness slid through her system and her sweater suddenly felt scratchy against her skin.
She checked her hair in the mirror behind the bar and scowled at her reflection. She didn’t need perfect hair or flawless makeup to impress anyone when she was off the clock. Her skills as a cop and her character as a person were top-notch on or off duty. So why primp for him? He was the face of one of her cases, not the man of her dreams.
His gaze roamed the pub as if he was intent on finding a familiar face. Not hers, clearly, as his attention skimmed over her, zeroing in on tables and groups of people.
Leo was here and the other man asking about Lara was gone. That couldn’t be coincidence. Had he hired an investigator after he’d left the police station? Not an outrageous possibility. He was justifiably desperate to find his sister.
Aubrey noticed when his gaze landed on someone and held in recognition. He stopped short at the end of a booth in the corner. She assumed he introduced himself. He wasn’t shouting or waving his phone around; she gave him points for composure this time, though he wasn’t invited to sit down.
When Aubrey had arrived, there had been three girls and two guys in the booth. They struck her as the right age to know Lara. She watched Leo shake hands, saw his lips curve in a weak smile. Interpreting body language was a skill she was working on. It wasn’t a perfect science and she still made a few errors, but overall, her track record was getting better.
As the conversation continued, Leo’s stance changed. His shoulders tensed up, his fingers curled into his palm, then flattened again to tap his leg and curled again. Over and over. He was getting agitated. They must be stonewalling him.
She’d done the same for her girlfriends in the past, dodging questions or withholding information from an overprotective brother or too-curious ex. Until right now she hadn’t wasted much time worrying about how the boyfriend or brother had felt.
He was doing an admirable job of staying calm, and his effort touched her soft heart. She was off the bar stool and crossing the room before she thought it through. “Leo? Hi,” she said a little too loudly.
His brow flexed into a frown as if he couldn’t place her out of uniform. A moment later his expression cleared. “Officer Rawlins.”
“Off duty, it’s just Aubrey,” she said with a smile. “Are you guys having a good time?” she asked the table at large.
No one flinched or squirmed, so she assumed they were all over twenty-one. All five of them answered in the affirmative. The only one who came across remotely uncomfortable was the man standing beside her. Why was that? She assumed this was a group of Lara’s friends. Had she misread the situation? “Well, I won’t intrude,” she said. “I just wanted to say hello.”
As she hoped, Leo followed her to the bar, away from the group at the table. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, leaning close.
She caught the scent of winter on his clothing and something warmer that must have been solely him. A quiver of anticipation swirled low in her belly. She really had to get a handle on her runaway senses. Striving to keep her cool, she nodded toward Jason. “My friend is tending bar and he invited me down. It’s a happy coincidence.”
“Nothing happy about it on my end.”
The words stung a little, though she had no true reason to be offended. “Why not, Mr. Butler?” she asked in a cool, polite tone.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Please, call me Leo.”
The name truly suited him. He was growly and protective, lean and—enough of that. “I assume that group knew Lara,” she said, tipping her head toward the booth. The five coeds were there, taking turns peeking at her and Leo.
If they were hoping for a scene, they were doomed to disappointment. She wasn’t about to create a stir or give IA any cause for worry.
“They are,” he admitted.
“What happened to letting me and the PPD handle it?”
He glared at her, then turned that glare on the rest of the crowd as he leaned back against the bar. “You can’t expect me to sit still and wait.”
“I can,” she said. “You gave me your word you would do just that.”
He had the grace to look embarrassed. “I was in the hotel, thinking.”
Overthinking this was his first mistake, though she could hardly blame him. If she had a sibling who’d gone off and done something so out of character, she’d be equally consumed with finding information. Still, he wasn’t making her job any easier. “And?”
The despair in his dark brown eyes hit her hard. “You don’t understand.”
She pressed her lips together to hold back the long list of things she did understand. “Explain it. I’m listening.”
“You see my sister as an adult. I understand that she is an adult. But the two of us talk about everything. We’re close. She must have had a good reason for leaving school and not discussing it.” He aimed another laser-hot glare at the group in the booth. “They have some idea, but they won’t tell me anything if she asked them to keep quiet. People are loyal to Lara like that.”
Aubrey thought of Mary-Tea and silently agreed with him.
“Something is wrong,” he continued, urgently. “However this started, she wouldn’t let me worry. If she can’t reach out, she must be in trouble.”
Aubrey wouldn’t dismiss his intuition as swiftly as she might doubt her own. “You’ll get yourself or someone else hurt if you don’t let the police handle this.”
“Are you telling me the PPD will do more than post a few flyers?”
She started to answer, but he cut her off.
“Be honest, Officer.”
The way he exaggerated her t
itle annoyed her. Still, he was not at his best right now. He was hurting and worried and—She snipped off that line of thinking like a loose thread. It was not her job to comfort him, not even while she was off duty and hanging out in a crowded bar.
“The police won’t do enough,” she began. “The general consensus seems to be that the police never do enough to protect our communities or prevent problems.”
Leo’s eyes rounded. “All right. Well, not all right, but the candor is refreshing.”
She angled herself to block his view of Lara’s friends in the booth. “Just because we don’t have any new information within a few hours of filing the report doesn’t mean the PPD is ignoring you or your concerns.” She was half tempted to tell him what really brought her to Pomeroy’s. Imagining a dozen ways that would backfire, she kept her mouth shut.
Leo stared at his feet. “I want to believe you.”
“Then believe me,” she urged.
“Will you please go speak with them?” Leo asked.
She’d known the request was coming. It was an inevitable culmination of everything Leo had seen and done today. A smart woman—a smart cop—would’ve refused and walked out of the bar, headed for the peace and quiet of home. Too late for that now.
She scanned the bar for any sign of the man Jason had initially called about. Nothing. Annoyed with herself as much as the situation, she grabbed her coat and turned on her heel. At the booth she paused, offering a professional smile. “Leo is worried about his sister.”
“We noticed.” The young woman who’d spoken was gorgeous, with light brown skin, wide, nearly black eyes and straight black hair that flowed to the middle of her back. “We’d help him if we could, Officer.”
Aubrey decided to assume the best and buy into the sincerity shining in the younger woman’s eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. If there’s any insight you could give about where or why Lara left school, it would help the investigation tremendously.” She made eye contact with each of them, but only the first replied.