by S. E. Harmon
“It’s not like it was my fault,” I said defensively. “That Dillon kid is a real tool.”
Danny looked like he was biting back words better left unsaid. I watched him open and close his mouth three times before he finally seemed to gather himself. He let out a cleansing breath. “Please tell me he at least gave you something.”
“He gave me some guy named Bondo on a silver platter. The guys in the auto theft department owe us a fruit basket.”
“They can get in line. Attempted murder of a cop trumps a fucking boosted car. Anything regarding Joseph? You know, the case we’re actually working on?”
I filled him in on everything Dillon had said. “I think Dillon misconstrued what he saw. The description of the guy and his truck makes me think he was talking about Rex, the PI. The half license plate ought to narrow the search.”
“I thought Joseph just hired the PI to find Delilah.”
“Clearly not. Hopefully, we’re one step closer to finding this Rex guy, and finding out what was on that thumb drive.”
Danny waited for a beat, looking at me expectantly. When I didn’t say anything else, he frowned. “That’s it?”
“That’s it?” I repeated. “I just gave you investigation gold.”
“That gold is turning green in the shower,” he said exasperatedly.
“And what would you have me do?” I demanded. “I follow the evidence. Wherever it leads, I follow. You know that.”
“Yeah, I do. It’s just that this was a bit of a… a bit of a….” He struggled to come up with a term for our investigative work for the day and finally gave up on being delicate. “This was a clusterfuck. An officer shooting and a foot chase through downtown Miami? Tate is going to have me for lunch. And you for breakfast.”
“Are you guys seriously talking about work?” Kevin’s voice was plaintive. “I just got shot.”
“You’re in good hands,” Danny called.
He made another pitiful sound. “Shouldn’t you two be setting up some sort of GoFundMe account? For my injury in the line of damned duty?” At our simultaneous groans, he snapped, “You guys didn’t catch a bullet with your ass!”
I glanced at Danny for confirmation. His lips were compressed as he struggled to hold in his grin. “It was just a graze. Let’s just say the medic said Kevin’s ass is plenty big enough—”
“I heard that.”
“—to withstand the injury with no complications.” Danny’s cheeky grin finally broke through. “That’s his reward for not working out and eating so damn many taquitos.”
“Fuck you, McKenna,” Kevin grumbled good-naturedly.
Ashton disposed of his gloves and said crisply, “We should get you to the hospital.”
“I don’t need a damned hospital,” Kevin insisted. “I need a big ass bandage and the tender loving care of Mr. Jim Beam.”
“It’s procedure.” Ashton turned to Danny and me. “We’re taking him to St. Catherine’s, if you guys want to follow.”
I was almost giddy with relief that Kevin was all right. Crisis averted, I felt comfortable enough to give him shit about the robust nature of his behind. “You know, it’s a good thing he had those four tacos earlier. And an entire bag of jellybeans.”
“Judas,” Kevin accused as Ashton pulled the ambulance doors closed. “That bag was half full, and you know it—”
The doors closed, cutting off the rest of his statement. My smile wilted when I spotted movement over Danny’s shoulder. Tate. She was advancing on us at a fast clip, practically pushing people out of the way. Of course. She never missed an opportunity to personally rip me a brand, spanking new asshole.
Frankly, I was kind of fond of the old one.
“I, uh, I’d better go with Kev,” I said hurriedly. “Just to make sure he’s all right.”
“You sure?” Danny squinted at me. “Maybe I should go. I am his best fr—”
“You’re too close to the situation, Irish. I got this.” I rapped on the ambulance doors, and Ashton pulled one of them open with a frown. “Yeah?”
“Is there room for one more in this thing?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
I got in and pulled the doors shut behind me, right on Danny’s surprised face. As the engine rumbled to life, I mimed “call you later” through the glass and took the opposite side of Ashton.
Kevin smiled. “Now that’s more like it. I didn’t know you had such a sweet side, buddy.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I murmured.
Tate was closer now, her face a thundercloud. I loved Danny more than life, but I had no regrets about sacrificing him. At all. In the past, we’d reviewed his zombie apocalypse rules and I knew he’d do the same.
I tapped on the wall of the ambulance. “Let’s get this bloody boat moving, huh?”
*
The ER doctor seemed to agree with the EMTs that Kevin’s injury was just a graze. After dressing the wound and giving him some painkillers, the doctor recommended an overnight stay for observation. We cooled our heels behind a paper-thin curtain in the chaotic ER, waiting for a room to become available.
Since Kevin’s kids regarded Danny as an honorary uncle, he offered to pick them up and drop them off at their grandmother’s house. Shortly after Danny left, Tabitha came by with dinner from Chipotle. Nick dropped in next, toting an inflatable donut with Superman logos printed all over it. They crowded in the tiny space and we spent the next few hours cracking jokes and razzing one another, our version of keeping Kevin company.
I was struck anew at how different things were with this team than the FBI. With my old team at the BAU, we kept things strictly professional. No one was all that eager to get profiled by a fellow profiler, so it became a habit to keep your cards close to your chest.
There were no Fourth of July barbecues on Nick’s back deck—surprisingly well-furnished for a die-hard bachelor—or dinners with Kevin’s family at their farmhouse. I didn’t hesitate to acknowledge that this was better, in every way.
Kevin’s wife arrived after a bit, looking flustered and upset, still dressed in scrubs from work. There was no trace of the usually capable dental hygienist as she immediately burst into tears. Kevin held out his arms, and she collapsed into them. His usual jovial nature was nowhere to be found as he murmured something soothing into her messy bun. It was like they were the only two people in the world.
I’m not sure I would’ve ever matched the nice but undeniably tightly wound Carol with her laid-back husband, but they made it work. They looked like two puzzle pieces slotted together, one providing comfort when the other needed it. I suspected that tomorrow, once his pain meds wore off, Carol would be the strong one, shoring him up until he could stand on his own.
Their relationship made me think about… things. My fingers twitched as I quelled an urge to touch the ring hanging on my necklace. It was inside my shirt, and I didn’t want to draw any attention to it in front of this overly observant crew.
As beautiful as Kevin and Carol’s reunion was, I was admittedly uncomfortable with outpourings of emotion. From the darted glances Tabitha and Nick kept shooting at one another, I wasn’t the only one. I cleared my throat as I glanced at my watch. “Wow, is that the time?”
Tabitha edged closer to the door. “It sure is getting late, isn’t it?”
Kevin took one look at us over his wife’s shoulder and rolled his eyes. “You guys really should see someone about your discomfort with emotion. Maybe you could get a group discount.”
“Maybe,” Nick said, his voice tinged with desperation.
Kevin chuckled. “Scram.”
He didn’t have to tell us twice.
Chapter 25
The next morning, Danny and I picked up Kevin from the hospital so his wife could get the kids off to school. Even though we were early, he was already downstairs as we pulled into the pick-up bay. He was standing beside a bored-looking orderly who was leaning on an empty wheelchair. I figured Kevin had refused the wheelchair
ride for obvious reasons.
He responded to my greeting with a sour look and a grumble as he got in the back seat. I glanced in the rearview as he jammed an inflatable donut under his rear for the bumpy ride home. I didn’t take it personally. I was a horrible patient, too.
Danny and I did our friendship due diligence, dropping him off at his house and making sure he was set up on his couch with the remote. His living room was a sea of brightly colored toys, and I stubbed my toe more than once as we got him settled.
Danny promised to bring him lunch, and I assured him that we would forward him something to do for the case to keep busy. Kevin swore he was going to go out of his mind with boredom and, good friends that we are, we told him to buck the fuck up and enjoy a few days off.
“Breakfast,” he wheedled. “You can give me that, at least.”
He was lucky he’d once saved my life. Or I was, I suppose. I headed in the kitchen with a long-suffering sigh. As I entered the room, I caught the scent of something deliciously aromatic. It was a good-sized space and well-worn in, which was to be expected since Carol was a fantastic cook. As if to underscore that thought, I spotted the source of the smell—something was bubbling away in a crockpot on the end of the counter.
“Didn’t they serve breakfast in the hospital?” I asked as I peered in the refrigerator.
“It was hot cereal and fruit.”
“Well, welcome to the remix.” I pantomimed a DJ scratching a record. “Cold cereal and fruit.”
Danny’s phone rang as I put a breakfast tray in front of Kevin, complete with a bowl of cereal, a glass of milk, and a glass of grapefruit juice. He gave me a sweet smile that was kind of adorable. Big fucking baby. I felt sorry for his wife when she got back from ferrying the kids to school. I had a feeling he was going to milk this injury for all it was worth.
I selected a fruit from the crisper and plunked it down on his tray. “You can peel your own damn orange.”
He looked at it like the fruit had insulted his mother. “I was shot,” he reminded me.
“In the ass, not the hand!”
“Shhh.” Danny hushed us both as he put the phone on speaker. “No, I can hear you now. Go ahead, Tab.”
“I used the plate Dillon gave us and finally tracked down this Rex Walker. He owns a black Silverado, so I think this is the guy.”
“Do we know anything else about him?” Danny asked.
“He’s a PI who works for a boutique firm in Aventura. Wallace Investigations,” she answered. “His investigator’s license was suspended and revoked six months ago.”
“Where can we find this Rex Walker?” I asked.
“I did a little arm twisting of their secretary, Kim,” Tab said. “She told me Rex is still working a few cases off the books. He should be in the field today at the White Palm Café.”
“Then that’s where we go,” I said. “You have the address?”
“Yep. Just sent it to your email. I’m also sending the invoices between Rex and Joey.” Tab hesitated. “I promised Kim she wouldn’t get into any trouble. Don’t make me a liar.”
“I can’t promise anything, but we’ll try.” Danny pressed the End button and turned to me. “We already know he wanted to find his mother. What else do you think he hired him for?”
“Maybe something about his father, the infamous serial killer.” Kevin suggested around a mouthful of cereal. “If he was my pops, I’d certainly have questions.”
I turned to stare at him. I’d almost forgotten he was even there. I watched as he carefully poured more milk in his bowl, looking like a big toddler who’d been trusted not to spill. “That’s actually a pretty good guess.”
“Thank you,” he said dryly. “I do try. They gave me a shield and everything. It’s so fucking shiny.”
Clearly, my propensity for being a smartass was affecting everyone on the team.
“Shut up and eat your Fruity Pebbles,” I grumbled.
*
The White Palm Cafe was so small I drove by it twice before I finally spotted the flickering palm tree logo on the side of the building. The place was a square, squat throwback from the eighties and a bit of a dive, which the locals loved. The café had been featured on a Food Network show for their crepes. Judging from the three signs in the window, they were extremely proud of that. I briefly wondered if it was wrong to question a suspect over Nutella and banana crepes.
Walker sat at a table in the corner, back to the wall, probably so he could monitor the comings and goings in the café. He was just like Dillon described him, from the dark hair to the thick beard to the plaid shirt. His face was craggy but handsome, in a rough-hewn kind of way.
He looked engrossed in whatever was on his iPad, a cup of coffee and half eaten scone at his elbow. I clucked my tongue. What kind of person went to the home of world-famous crepes and ordered scones? It was almost criminal.
From the way he kept glancing over at the couple in front of him, I figured the iPad was probably more of a prop than anything else. The two women were holding hands over the table and talking softly. As we approached Walker’s table, the flirty couple leaned in and kissed. Walker let out a barely audible curse as I crossed his sightline.
“Excuse me,” he snapped when I didn’t move.
I slid into the chair across from Walker just as Danny took the chair next to him. I smiled toothily. “You’re excused.”
Walker gave us the once over, his eyes narrowed. “Sorry, guys, but this table is taken.” He looked back down at his iPad, dismissing us physically and verbally in one fell swoop.
“You Rex Walker?” I asked.
“I’m not buying anything, and I’m not interested in finding Jesus.”
I glanced down at my gray trousers and fitted black shirt, then at Danny’s dark wash jeans and Metallica shirt. We were mismatched as a team, maybe, but we didn’t look like any traveling salesmen I’d ever seen.
“Detective Christiansen,” I said crisply. “And this is Detective McKenna. We’re looking for Rex Walker.”
“You’ve got the wrong guy, fellas. Sorry I can’t help you out.”
Danny smiled and slid his shades up in his hair. Probably so he could apply his thousand-yard stare more effectively. “Well, if you’re not Walker, then you wouldn’t be a PI. You also wouldn’t need to sit in the direct sightline of that couple over there.”
A waiter delivered two plates to the women with a flourish and they dropped hands to grab their forks and dig in. I squinted at their meals—strawberry crepes with whipped cream—and gave an approving nod. I like your style. Not so much on the cheating, but good call on the grub.
“I think our friend Walker here is trying to stay under the radar. Probably wouldn’t help if we told the entire café that we’re cops.” I pulled out my badge from my back pocket and tossed it on the table. “I think I remember the lyrics to the Cops theme song.”
“You’re magnificent at karaoke,” Danny said generously.
“Come on, guys,” Walker hissed. “I’m just trying to have a cup of coffee here.”
“Shut up,” Danny said without looking at him. “I wonder if he’s gathering evidence of an affair. Maybe even taking some pictures. But a PI operating without a license would be illegal, wouldn’t it?”
“An arrestable offense,” I agreed.
I looked Walker over for a few moments before it hit me. The glasses. His driver’s license photo didn’t mention anything about corrective lenses. Hell, with lenses that thick, he should be able to read the lettering on the Hubble telescope, midorbit.
I held out my hand, and with an irritated sigh, he pulled them off and gave them to me. After running my fingers along the smooth rim, I found an upraised button on the side. He probably used an app on the iPad to work them wirelessly. “Clever,” I murmured.
“What do you guys want? You know I’m on the job,” he bit out. “I’m getting paid a lot of money from the redhead’s husband. The better the shot, the more I get.”
; I put the glasses on the table. “Then maybe you’d better start talking about Joseph Carr.”
“Joseph Carr,” he said softly. “I haven’t heard that name in a while.”
“I guess that would be a no on the I murdered him front.”
He glared at me. “Of course not. Why would I do anything to hurt Joey?”
“You tell me.”
“I just did,” he snapped. “We were old college buddies. Friends. I was glad he called me to reconnect.”
“You did more than reconnecting. Why did he hire you?” When Rex didn’t answer, I decided maybe a little clarification would help loosen his tongue. Just so we all knew where we stood. “We’re not leaving until we get some answers. You can give us those answers, and then go on your merry way….”
“Or?” He asked when I didn’t offer him the other option.
“Or we can get those answers in a more formal setting,” Danny finished.
Walker’s eyes shifted back and forth between us. “Say my license was revoked for an incomplete application, but I’ve got a clean record. Say I do a little investigating on the side while my new application is being processed.” He fiddled with his coffee mug. “Would that be the kind of thing you’re willing to overlook?”
Danny raised an eyebrow. “For the right kind of information, I might not be able to see a damned thing.”
“Glaucoma like a motherfucker,” I said helpfully.
“Then maybe I can help you.”
Well, hurry up before they stop serving breakfast. The dark-haired woman fed her curly-haired companion a whip-cream laden bite of crepe, and my stomach growled. My sensible bowl of Special K with almond milk was a thing of the past, and I jiggled my foot impatiently. “We’re listening.”
“First and foremost, you need to know that I’m Joey’s friend. Was Joey’s friend.” He swallowed. “He’s been gone a long time now, but I still sometimes forget.”
“What did he hire you to look into?”
He took a deep breath before he began. “It started with him wanting to find his mother’s best friend, a woman named Delilah Rose. She’d been missing for years and he thought it would be a nice gift to his mother to find Delilah. I told him people who go underground for that long generally have a good reason for hiding.”