Lost and Found

by Allison Brennan

  Maybe Gabe’s fear for his family was one of the reasons for Gabe’s move out-of-state. But dammit, Gabe was part of the problem, and he had set her up. She could have died. Without Krista there to save her ass, she would have.

  He was going to tell her why. The time for silence was over.

  She turned off highway 101 and navigated to Happy Valley Road, then after a mile, she turned north on Lake Pleasant. Happy Valley? Lake Pleasant? What was with these people? What was pleasant about 110 degree weather and no beach?

  Five minutes later, she was parked in front of a nice suburban house in a nice suburban neighborhood. The lots were each a quarter acre but no trees, no ocean, no grass. Everything was clean and picture perfect, houses mirror images of their neighbors.

  She hated it.

  She’d take her dive studio apartment above Diego’s bar any day of the week. She could fall asleep on the roof to the sound of ocean waves only three blocks away, and wake up to the fresh, crisp salt air. Sure, the traffic sucked and people were arrogant jerks and cared more about their tans than their IQs, but Scarlet loved southern California and she’d never leave. She didn’t think she’d be happy if she wasn’t living within a stone’s throw of the Pacific Ocean.

  And until Gabe moved, she never believed he would have left, either. Both he and his wife had been born and raised in the Valley. Their kids had been born at St. Joseph’s in Burbank—Scarlet had been there for birth of their youngest, Abby. Was it really ten years ago when Scarlet had made detective? He’d been assigned as her training officer. She’d already been a cop for five years, but being promoted to detective… it was a big deal for her. She was one of the youngest detectives, and missed being the youngest female detective by four months. But she’d earned it, and she’d worked her ass off to pass the test and get the promotion.

  She and Gabe were on their first case together the day Sherry had gone into labor with the third Stone kid. They’d just interviewed a witness to an armed robbery in Van Nuys and were heading to check out a rental company across the street that might have had a camera aimed at the intersection during the time of the robbery. Sherry had called Gabe and said she was already at the hospital.

  Gabe was nearly panicked. “She didn’t expect the baby to come so fast. Joey took over twenty-four hours, Lizzy twelve hours. She’s already been in labor for two hours but was at the fucking mall. Shopping. Sales or some such shit. What if she dropped the kid in the middle of Macy’s?”

  Scarlet hadn’t wanted to hear about pregnancy or giving birth, so she didn’t say anything as Gabe put on the sirens and spend across the valley to Burbank.

  But she’d stuck with Gabe because he seemed to be falling apart; she saw the newborn before she was cleaned and then went to pick up the two older Stone kids—both in school—and drive them to Santa Clarita to stay with their grandparents. Because that’s what partners did. They helped each other out.

  Partners were supposed to always have your back. Always.

  Scarlet shook her head to clear her thoughts. This was the kind of neighborhood where someone would call the cops on her. Her Jeep looked like junk and she was just sitting and staring at Gabe’s house as if she were on a stake out.

  She almost didn’t get out of her Jeep. She almost turned around to drive back to Newport Beach. Did she really want to know the truth about why Gabe had called her that fateful day? Why he’d asked her to check out the warehouse for a friend… then lied about it? Was she ready to throw ten years of friendship out the window by accusing him of attempted murder?

  He tossed our friendship out three and a half years ago when he called and sent me to that warehouse in Van Nuys. He’s the one who turned his back. He’s the one who betrayed me.

  There is no friendship to save.

  Before she could change her mind, she jumped out of her roofless Jeep, finger-combed her short, brown hair to make it look marginally presentable after the five-hour drive, and walked across the yard to the front porch. She knocked on the door and realized she was holding her breath. Slowly, she let it out.

  Footsteps approached the door and Scarlet found herself shifting uncomfortably on her feet. Would he know why she was here? Would he be surprised? Worried? Angry?

  The door opened. Sherry Stone stood there looking almost the same as she had when she and Gabe moved the family to Peoria. Surprise lit her eyes as she grinned widely. “Scarlet? Scarlet! Come in!”

  Sherry stepped forward and gave Scarlet a tight hug. A chubby English bulldog trod down the tile hall on short legs and plopped down next to them as if the short trek had exhausted him.

  “Alfred,” Scarlet said and reached down to scratch the dog’s ears. “He’s gotten… old.”

  “And grossly overweight, even though I have him on a strict diet,” Sherry said. She closed the door and wrapped her arm around Scarlet’s shoulder, pulling her into the house. “You look so good. Thin, but good.”

  “You do, too.”

  Sherry laughed, warm and friendly, and Scarlet felt a sting of tears. She swallowed uneasily and realized she had no plan. She wanted to confront Gabe, get answers, and go home. But seeing Sherry reminded her of everything she’d lost when Gabe betrayed her… and this woman, a woman Scarlet had often wished was her own mother, knew nothing about it.

  “Gabe didn’t tell me you were coming to visit! I ask about you all the time, telling him to get you here for a weekend.”

  “He didn’t know I was coming,” Scarlet said. “I’m in town for a case, and thought I’d stop by and say hi, get his insight on something.”

  Did that sound lame? Stupid?

  “I should have called, I just—”

  “Nonsense! You’re family. You’re always welcome.” Sherry ushered Scarlet into a huge family-style kitchen bigger than three of Scarlet’s apartments. A kitchen with an island and bar, a glass-enclosed breakfast nook that looked out onto the backyard—no grass, but an infinity pool with an amazing view of the west. Sunsets would be miraculous from this elevation and angle. And a huge family room with sectional sofa, large screen television, and built-in bookshelves.

  “This place is enormous,” she said.

  “We have Gabe’s pension, plus his salary. And can you believe this house cost less than that tiny three bedroom we sold in Glendale? I had no idea how expensive houses were in Los Angeles until we sold. Gabe built the bookshelves himself. Actually followed the directions and they turned out lovely. Sit down—coffee? Are you hungry? Of course you are. You always ate so well. Where do you store it?”

  “Fast metabolism,” she said absently. She didn’t store it anywhere because she had hardly been eating since she’d learned her brother had been keeping secrets, her boyfriend had lied to her, and her mentor had betrayed her.

  Sherry bustled around in the kitchen. She poured a cup of coffee and slid it over to Scarlet. “Bad habit of mine I got from Gabe. Coffee, all times of the day and night. I switch to decaf at noon, otherwise I’d never sleep. But this is fully-loaded.” She laughed lightly as she cut homemade coffee cake out of pan and warmed two plates in the microwave.

  Sherry was happy. She’d always been a grounded, cheerful woman, but here… she glowed.

  And Scarlet was about to destroy her life.

  “How’re the kiddos?” Scarlet asked, trying to keep her tone easygoing. “I can’t believe Abby is ten.”

  “You and me both. It’s so sweet that you always remember her birthday. She adores you. She wants to be a cop or prosecutor—told me she either wants to catch the bad guys or put them in prison. Noble calling, I’d say. Her dad is opposed to it—he’s steering her in a completely different direction. I don’t know why. Abby has always had a strong sense of right and wrong. Lizzy is a junior, just got her driver’s license last month. Joe’s in college—can you believe it? Arizona State. He’s home this week—doesn’t start classes again until next Wednesday. Engineering—he was always a smart kid. And a smart ass.” She laughed again, took the coffee cake
out of the microwave, and brought the plates over to the breakfast nook. “I’m so glad you came by, Scarlet. I wish it hadn’t taken over three years for you to visit.”

  She had nothing to say. She and Gabe hadn’t talked since he moved. Why was that? Had she tried? Probably not… She hadn’t been in a good place after she got out of the hospital. She was recuperating from the shooting, she’d quit the force after Gabe told I.A. that he hadn’t made the call that sent her to the warehouse, and she had begun to doubt her own sanity. And for a long while, she thought someone had intentionally pretended to be Gabe on the call. It had been brief, no chit-chat. He’d used his pet name for her and she had no doubts it had been him at the time.

  Then, three months ago, she realized Gabe was up to his neck in this shit and had been from the beginning.

  Gabe had called her on her cell phone from a burn phone. No recording of the call because it hadn’t gone through dispatch. Or so Scarlet had thought at the time. But her standard-issue sedan had a video recorder and Krista, a rookie, had inadvertently turned it on. The video was of them driving—didn’t show them, only the road in front of them. It was used primarily during traffic stops. But there was an audio recording as well, and though the quality was poor, Mac was able to enhance the audio well enough that there was no doubt in Scarlet’s mind that Gabe had made the call.

  She should have given the evidence to Detective Kyle Richardson, who was running the task force out of the Special Operations Division of L.A.P.D. But she hadn’t. There were several reasons for her hesitation—not the least of which that everything she’d shared with Richardson in the past had seemed to disappear into a black hole. But mostly, she’d wanted to confront Gabe herself. Krista had a copy of the recording in case anything happened to her… but Scarlet didn’t think Gabe would touch her. He’d been a pawn, not the shooter.

  And he wouldn’t kill her in front of his wife and kids.

  “Is everything okay, Scarlet?” Sherry asked.

  “Yeah, just, long drive. When’s Gabe going to be home?”

  “He usually gets in around four, four-thirty. I’ll call him, make sure—”

  “No, that’s okay. I can come back.”

  “You have work to do.”

  Scarlet didn’t want to lie to Sherry, but she certainly couldn’t tell her the truth. “Yes and no. I have a case, like I said, and it relates back to one of our old investigations. I had to come out here to talk to a witness, but I really need his experience on this.” A half-lie, half-truth.

  “Gabe is always good at getting to the heart of a situation. You are absolutely welcome to hang out here with me for the rest of the day. In fact, I’m about to put together dinner.”

  “It’s not even eleven in the morning.”

  “The crock pot is an amazing invention,” Sherry said with a smile. “You can help me slice up the veggies for the stew, then we’ll go have a girls’ lunch. There’s this little pub I just love in town, and none of my girlfriends want to go because they don’t have a decent wine list. And you can’t tell me that you don’t like a good microbrew beer—I’ve known you for ten years, since you were barely old enough to drink.”

  “I was twenty-four when I made detective.”

  “Youngest female detective in the history of L.A.P.D.”

  “Second youngest, and only because I was a cop right out of high school.” College was the last thing she’d ever wanted to do.

  “But you got your associate’s degree at night so you could make detective in five years. Don’t sell yourself short, Scarlet. Gabe was always so proud of you. Oh, I know, he can be gruff and sound like a sexist jerk sometimes, but he always told me you were the best detective in his precinct, hands down. It broke his heart when you left the force.”

  Chapter Two

  It took Scarlet two pints of beer and the best bacon cheeseburger she’d had in her life before she could ask Sherry the question she’d been burning to ask since arriving on her doorstep.

  They were sitting outside under a canopy in the front of the pub. Everyone else thought it was the middle of winter—two women wore sweaters—but it was nearly eighty degrees.

  “Why’d you move to Arizona? Both you and Gabe were born and bred in the valley. I expected you to stick around.”

  “A lot of reasons,” Sherry said. “I’ll admit I was as shocked as I was thrilled when Gabe told me he was retiring after putting in twenty years. And not a little bit worried. Gabe is a lot like my dad—I never expected him to quit before mandatory retirement. My dad and Gabe were cops to their core, and when my dad didn’t have the job, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He died of a heart attack a year later. I was worried that Gabe was making a rash decision because of what happened to you—the shooting.” Her face clouded, concern dampening her eyes. “We were both so scared for you, Scarlet. I sat with your dad that first night when you were in surgery. Gabe looked like he’d been through a war zone, and your dad… I’d never seen him so terrified. He loves you so much.”

  Scarlet didn’t want to think about that night.

  “I think Gabe realized that we had three kids, that he could have been with you. He also felt guilty.”

  Scarlet’s ears perked up. “Guilty? Why?”

  “Because he wasn’t there. He never said it outright, but I know Gabe. He thought if he’d been with you, you would never have been shot.”

  “Or he could have been.”

  “That’s what I told him. But he’s stubborn. You know that. After the I.A. hearing—he said he couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t talk about it with me, except to say you’d quit and you were a better cop than he was.” She slowly shook her head and sipped her pint. Sherry was drinking a light ale while Scarlet had a dark porter. Sherry was right—this was the best microbrew. Scarlet wished she were in a better mood to enjoy it.

  “I was surprised he left California,” Scarlet said, trying to get the conversation back to what she wanted to know.

  “I’d been wanting to move for a while, but always figured it would be after Gabe retired and the kids were out of the house. Like I said, it surprised me, but Gabe went back to college to get his teaching credential at Arizona State, then took the job in Peoria. We’re thirty minutes from my mom in Scottsdale. Gabe’s content, keeps busy. Assistant coach for the football team and is going back to college this summer to get a counseling certificate because he wants to work more with troubled kids. It’s good.”

  “You’re happy,” Scarlet said. “I’m glad.”

  Was she? Maybe for Sherry. But did Gabe deserve peace? He had a life—family, job, home—and she was stuck in limbo.

  “Excuse me,” Sherry said, “I need to use the ladies’ room.” She patted Scarlet on the hand and went inside the restaurant.

  Scarlet didn’t want Sherry to know what Gabe had done. She would do everything she could to protect her—but if Gabe didn’t come clean, she would tell Sherry everything. Out of spite? Maybe. But if she wasn’t willing to follow through with the threat—and she might have to threaten Gabe to tell her the damn truth—then he’d never tell her. She had to be convincing.

  She finished the last of her pint, but waved away the waiter when he asked if she wanted another. Damn straight she wanted another; she wanted to get drunk and forget everything that had happened… but she needed her head clear.

  She resented Gabe. He’d lied and now had peace… and she was unable to move on. Risking her life, her happiness, her business. Krista was trying to keep their business afloat while Scarlet chased ghosts. She’d promised to be engaged, promised to live up to her commitment, but she’d failed Krista.

  She couldn’t help herself. She had to know the truth. Even if it killed her.

  Scarlet didn’t have a death wish, but there had come a point where she realized living the way she had been was unacceptable. She was spiraling out of control, she knew it, but she also knew that there was no way she could survive like this. She’d lost her job, her career, the respect o
f her peers, her vocation. Who was she now that she didn’t have a badge? It wasn’t that she didn’t like being a P.I.—it had its perks—but her entire life she’d wanted to be a cop like her dad. Her entire life she believed that the men and women in uniform were the good guys. Truth, justice, the American way.

  Then it was gone.

  She’d thought Alex, of all people, would have understood. But maybe it was because she’d confided in him that he’d walked away.

  Because lying to her was just as good as leaving her.

  #

  It had been six weeks ago, the weekend before Thanksgiving, when Scarlet made an important—and disturbing—connection in her clandestine investigation into the Vartarians.

  Jason Jones, a longtime family friend and cop who’d been falsely accused of killing a fellow cop who had information detrimental to the powerful Vartarian family, came by her studio that Saturday afternoon. “What was so important you couldn’t tell me over the phone?” he asked.

  “I found something, but I need you to access a file for me.”

  “Scarlet—leave the investigation to Richardson.”

  “I tried,” she said. “But Richardson isn’t talking to me, and when I tried to tell him what I found, he said it wasn’t important.” Her hands fisted. “It’s the most important thing.”

  “What?”

  “For three years, I thought someone had pretended to be Gabe when he called me and sent me to the warehouse.”

  “Gabe said he never made the call.”

  “He did.”

  “How can you be sure now?”

  “Because of who his rookie was that day.”

  She crossed her small studio apartment and opened her double closet doors. She’d converted the inside to her workstation. There wasn’t room for a desk, but she had a file cabinet and clippings, notes and arrows covered the wall. She didn’t say anything and let Jason look at her three years of work. The wall of questions, she called it, that she had stared at every night for three years.