by Dani Pettrey
“I hardly keep tabs on people like her.”
He was referring to Declan’s friend in a very unflattering manner, but while Declan longed to put Gerard in his place, getting the necessary case information needed to come first. Instead, he turned to Tanner. “We need to find out where Avery went.”
Nadine stepped forward from the corner she had settled into. “She said she was going to locate Skylar.”
Declan nodded. “Thank you.”
Gerard jiggled his crystal tumbler, the ice clinking against the glass. “Perhaps Avery can get some answers out of her—like how she could take my offer to make her a star and throw it all away to pose for some hack.”
“She seemed quite concerned about Skylar not being at the show,” Nadine said.
“Simply because she didn’t show, or was there more to it?” Declan asked.
Nadine shrugged.
“Do you know where Avery went to look for Skylar?”
She shrugged again. “Her house?”
Declan leaned over to Tanner and lowered his voice. “Why don’t you give Avery a call and make sure everything’s all right?”
Tanner nodded. “Good idea. Gentlemen . . . ” she said as she moved for the door, “if you’ll excuse me.”
Declan turned his attention to the gallery owner. “Mr. Fuller, I’m going to need a list of your employees and their contact information. Unless they are all present tonight.”
“Most of them are working tonight.”
“I’d like to speak with them.”
“I’ll send them up one by one.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” He turned to Gerard. “Before you go I’d like to ask you about Skylar.”
“What about her?”
“How did she come to pose for you?”
“She was a model. Approached me at a gallery opening. I saw something there. The angles of her face . . . I thought she’d make a good addition to my showcase lineup.”
“When was this?”
“About a month or two back.”
“How was she to work with?”
“Compliant. Flirtatious. I can see now it was all a game to her.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because she posed for someone else.” He crossed his arms. “My contracts include a noncompete for a three-month period around the showing. I can’t believe she had the nerve to pose for someone else and to let the pictures be swapped.”
“Why do you assume she was involved with the swap?”
“She posed for the photograph. She had to know it would be used.”
“Any idea who she might have worked with?”
He looked at Declan, his jaw tight with irritation. “As I’ve already explained to everyone, it had to be Sebastian. The piece reeks of his work.”
“Let me guess . . . You don’t recall his last name?”
“I don’t trifle with details that don’t concern me. He was a young kid. Trying to work his way up the ranks. Anxious. Eager. Reminded me of myself when I was younger. Probably why I tolerated his presence.”
“He worked for you?”
“No.”
“Was an understudy?”
“Heavens no, not in the official sense. I gave him feedback on a few pieces of his work. Out of the goodness of my heart. Let him watch a shooting once or twice, but that was the extent of it. The very idea he’d return my favor by pulling something like this will get him blacklisted in the community.”
Just as Avery had been, Declan thought. One would think that Avery’s photographs proving a state senator had attempted to rape a woman in the back room at a gallery showing would have made Avery a hero, but instead it had cost her the business she’d worked so hard to build—not to mention the disdain of the art scene.
“When was the last time you saw Sebastian?”
“Last week.”
“He wasn’t here tonight?”
“Not that I saw, but it was a full crowd, and I was otherwise occupied.”
“Then how do you propose he made the switch if no one saw him or Skylar tonight?”
“That, my dear fellow, is for you to discover.”
“Thank you for your time. You can wait downstairs, or if you’d like me to call you a cab, you can head home. I’ve gotten all I need from you tonight.”
“So you’re dismissing me?”
“I doubt he’d do anything of the sort,” Tanner said, reentering. “Agent Grey simply knows what a trying night this must be for you and is offering you the opportunity to leave and rest. He’ll contact you as soon as he knows anything.”
Gerard looked to Declan.
“We’ll be in touch,” Declan said.
Gerard nodded and reached to kiss Tanner’s hand, but she quickly skipped to Declan’s side. “It was a pleasure,” she said. “But I see our next interviewee is here.” She looked past him at the young lady standing in the doorway.
“Our next interviewee?” Declan said through gritted teeth.
“Would you rather I go back downstairs with Gerard?” she whispered.
“Please come in and have a seat,” he said to the woman, as Gerard brushed past her.
Tanner sat at his side with a grin that half made him want to laugh and half made him want to throttle her.
4
As Finley cleared the dishes after their supper with Kate Maxwell, Griffin stared at the blurry photograph Kate laid out on his kitchen table. It had once been a clear image, but of a large crowd somewhere in Malaysia. When they’d zoomed in on the person in question, the image became too pixelated, but they could still see the man they’d attempted to focus on was about six-one and lean. He was wearing a blue baseball hat, a blue long-sleeve shirt, sunglasses, and cargo pants. What little was visible of his face was covered by a beard, the sunglasses, and the hat’s brim.
He supposed it was better than the news footage she believed she’d spotted Luke in last fall. She’d come in Thanksgiving Day ecstatic that she finally had proof Luke was alive, but when they’d gone to the news site the next day to view the video, where she claimed she’d spotted Luke in the background of a riot in Thailand, the video was nowhere to be found. She’d contacted the news site but, despite several attempts, was unable to get any information about the missing footage. Unwilling to let the lead go, Kate had hired an investigator, but she had received no leads from him . . . until now. A very questionable lead.
“It’s him,” Kate said, helping Finley clear the last of their dishes from the meal—his spicy Italian lasagna, at Finley’s request. The oregano, peppers, and tomato flavors still danced on his taste buds.
“You really think this is Luke?” he asked, knowing he was treading on thin ice. Kate had been tracking her missing boyfriend, his missing friend, for almost seven years, and since Thanksgiving and the questionable video, she was convinced she finally had proof of life.
Kate hadn’t grown up with the gang, rather joined them when she met and started dating Luke their freshman year at University of Maryland, College Park. All the guys had gone there, and Kate was quickly assimilated into the group.
She turned to him, the nearly empty basket of garlic bread still in her hand. “How can you not see it’s him?” Frustration drenched her tone.
He exhaled, looking to Finley for support, but before Kate arrived she had told him that, since she had never met Luke, she was reluctant to weigh in. “Because I can barely see him.” He knew his answer was disappointing to her. He seriously wasn’t trying to dash her hopes. He prayed it was Luke Gallagher, but he had to be honest. Lying to make Kate feel better wouldn’t be helpful in the long run.
She tossed the basket on the counter and strode back to the table, his dog, Winston, padding after her. “You can see his entire torso and face.” She pointed at the eight-by-ten image. “Look at his jawline, his shoulders, his build.” She gripped the photograph’s edge.
Griffin studied it. Really studied it. “He’s bigger than Luke.”
She shook her he
ad in frustration. “It’s been seven years. Instead of a twenty-one-year-old college kid, he’s twenty-eight, going on twenty-nine. Of course he’s filled out.” Her voice heightened with each response.
“Fine. If it is him, what’s he doing in Malaysia? And how’d you get this photograph again?” The source sounded sketchy at best.
“I told you. I hired an overseas investigator. One of his contacts sent me this.”
“And how much did you pay him for it?”
She grunted, clearly knowing exactly where he was going with his questions. They’d worked together enough, been friends far longer. She knew how he approached an investigation—steady and skeptical. The complete opposite of her impulsive, going-in-arms-swinging approach—at least when it came to Luke. “That’s not the point,” she said in a flustered rush.
“It is the point. He could be taking advantage of your—”
“My?” She cut him off, cocking her head. Never a good sign with Kate. It signaled an impending brawl.
“Your . . .” He was going to say desperation, but that wasn’t the word she needed to hear. “Your persistence to produce evidence.”
She jabbed the photograph. “It’s him.”
Avery’s eyes flickered open. Searing pain radiated through her skull, along her jaw.
Save for the misty moon overhead, darkness enveloped her. The surface beneath her was cool—rough in parts, smushy in others.
Lifting her head to assess, she saw she lay at the bottom of Skylar’s steps, her beautiful dress splayed out in the mud, every bone in her body feeling as though she’d been bulldozed.
Reaching for her phone, she dialed 911.
The police took their sweet time responding, no doubt anticipating a domestic call in the trailer park as was typical, but this was nothing of the sort. Skylar was nowhere to be seen and someone had been in her home.
Officer Kim Fuller was the first to arrive on the scene. Avery liked Kim. She had worked with her several times as Parker’s crime-scene photographer . . . and she and Kim also shared a history.
“Avery, you sure I can’t have a paramedic look at you?” Kim asked as Avery tried to explain what had happened.
“Nah.” Avery cricked her neck to the side and it popped, releasing some of the tension. “I’ll be fine.” She wanted the focus to be on Skylar’s disappearance and not her neck.
“Okay, if you’re sure.” Kim looked back to her notebook. “You were saying Skylar was supposed to meet you at Christopher Fuller’s gallery in Fell’s Point?”
“Yes. Skylar was the featured model of the photography showcase.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. She told me she was making some positive changes in her life.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Kim had come from a similar neighborhood and upbringing. While their high schools had been rivals, the three girls had always managed to click—at least until Kim joined the force and Sky remained in her ways. Skylar had her run-ins with the law, though Avery held the majority of the blame for that.
“But she never showed,” Avery continued.
“And you came here to look for her?” Kim asked.
“Yes.” Avery rubbed her temples.
“All right. And then what happened when you got here? Walk me through it.”
“As I pulled up, I saw what looked to be a flashlight moving around on the inside of the trailer. I climbed the steps and found the door ajar. I called her name and someone ran at me, bowling me over and knocking me out. I woke up and called 9-1-1.”
“Can you describe the person who knocked you down?”
“No, but I’m sure it was a man.”
“Why a man?”
Because she could hold her own with any female. “Because of his size and the strength. I’m telling you, it had to be a man.”
“We’ve both seen our share of larger women.”
“True, but it definitely wasn’t Skylar.” She was one-twenty soaking wet.
Kim flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. “Anything else you remember about this person?”
“No. Sorry. It was too dark and it happened so fast.”
“All right.” Kim flipped her notebook shut. “We’ll file a report for the assault, but without much more to go on . . .”
She got it. “What about Skylar?” she asked.
Kim arched her brows. “What about her?”
“I’m worried something’s happened to her.” Unease had fixed in her gut.
“Based on?”
“Her not showing up at the event, someone breaking into her place . . .” The emptiness of her eyes in the portrait.
“There were no signs of breaking and entering,” Kim’s partner said. “Maybe whoever was inside had a key.”
“Then why use a flashlight?”
Kim shook her head. “Can’t say, but no one broke into the trailer, and nothing of value appears to have been taken. The place looks about as messy as the last time I saw it, but it hasn’t been tossed.”
As Kim’s partner, who hadn’t had much to say, other than commenting on the lack of a break-in, climbed into the passenger seat of their patrol car, Kim tucked her notebook in her pocket. “Look, I’m sorry, Av. I truly am. I know you’re worried about Skylar, but we both know it’s not uncommon for her to pull stunts or to take off for days or even weeks at a time. Her car is gone, as is her purse.”
“Her car got repossessed last month.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. But she’s probably just on public transportation somewhere. Have you talked to Gary?”
Last thing in the world she wanted to do was talk to Skylar’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. “No.” She glanced at his place, not far from Sky’s. “Not yet. His trailer’s been dark since I got here.”
“Knowing Gar, he’s probably over at McDougal’s Pub. It’s Friday night.”
“Yeah.” Gary usually closed down the place. At least he used to, but she doubted he’d changed much. He was a carbon copy of his father.
“I wouldn’t worry, Avery,” Kim said. “Sky’ll turn up. She always does.”
“What about a missing persons report?”
“Typically we need a family member or someone she lives or works with to report her missing.”
“You know she doesn’t have any family.” Other than Avery. “She lives alone.” Though Gary stayed over a lot. “What if Gary hasn’t seen her either?”
“Okay,” Kim relented. “Talk to Gary when you see him. If he fears Skylar’s missing too, I’ll file the report. He’s as much a live-in as she’s got.”
“Thanks, Kim.”
Now just to convince Gary.
She watched the patrol car disappear from the park, the unease in her stomach only gnawing harder. Something was wrong. She could feel it, and she wasn’t willing to go in search of Gary at the bar until Skylar’s place was properly checked out. Pulling out her cell, she opened her favorites—still unable to remove his name—and rang Parker, knowing he was the person she needed for tonight, but only for tonight. Afterward she’d track down the last person or next-to-last person she ever wanted to see—Gary Boyd.
5
Parker was going to see Avery for the first time in months. Well, technically, he’d seen her at Griffin and Finley’s summer cookout, but she had avoided him all night—or at least it had seemed that way. But from the details Avery had just shared over the phone, they were going to be partnered up like old times, if only for the night, and he’d gladly take whatever he could get. He hadn’t realized how strongly, how deeply, he cared for her until she was no longer at his side daily—working together in close quarters, in adrenaline-fueled situations, into the long, late hours of the night.
He loved Avery, but he still loved Jenna. Jenna was his first and, until now, only love. He’d been planning to propose at an appropriate time, like when he’d graduated from college and could have provided a solid future for them. He’d never shared that with anyone, given the circumstanc
es—she was his best friend Griffin’s little sister, and only Jenna’s mom and Declan had known about the relationship. He’d wanted to tell Griffin from the start, but Jenna begged him not to. She’d insisted he’d interfere, that he wouldn’t approve of the four-year age difference. But everything imploded, including his ability to love fully, with Jenna’s brutal murder just days shy of her eighteenth birthday.
Then, after years of his suffering a torturous abyss, Avery Tate walked through his door and something sparked back to life. He hadn’t thought it possible, but little by little he’d come alive again—or as close to it as he ever believed he could. But it wasn’t fair to promise anything to Avery while he still loved Jenna. While her memory still danced through his mind and she still held a piece of his heart.
He pulled into the trailer park Avery had grown up in. She’d never told him about living here, but due to the sensitive nature of their work, he’d run a full background check when hiring her. She knew about the check but never commented on it or asked about what he’d uncovered.
He spotted Avery’s car parked in front of the trailer on the left, wondering which trailer had been hers, wondering what had occurred during her formative years to make her so formidable in the kickboxing ring. It was the only time he’d glimpsed the emotional turmoil beneath her strong veneer—when she laid it all on the table and fought the demons that clearly haunted her past. Her strength ran deep, but so did raw wounds—he just didn’t fully know from what.
Stepping from his Land Rover, he grabbed his equipment out of the rear. How would he act once he was in the same room with her? His hand was ridiculously clammy on his kit handle—though that he could blame on the hot, humid Maryland summer. He dropped his kit, swiped his hand across his pants, picked up his kit again, and headed for the door.
Avery opened it, and the air choked from his lungs at the sight of her in that dress. She gave him a half smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he managed to squeak out before she turned to lead him inside—the back of her dress consisting of a single satin ribbon running up the center of her graceful back to meet with two ribbons at her neckline, the three tying into some intricate knot to secure the satin sheath gown.