Sam stood and leaned against the fence next to the man. “I still wished I could have helped her.”
“Me, too. But you can’t take all the blame,” Conrad said, releasing a slow breath. “I used to think it was my fault. I’m starting to understand that it’s no one’s fault. It just happened. Had it not been something she read in your journal, it would have been something else. She was like a ticking time bomb—anything could have set her off.”
A beat passed then Conrad gestured to his hand. “You’re a married man now.”
Sam glanced at the braided band. “Yeah, I am.”
“That’s good,” Conrad replied.
Sam glanced at the man. “And you? Do you have someone?”
Conrad crossed his arms. “It’s complicated.”
Sam nodded. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that even though things may seem complicated or twisted or out of reach, if there’s love, you’ve got a chance.”
The corner of Conrad’s mouth twitched. “Oh, there’s love. Except, I’m a cop in a tiny, conservative Kansas town, and the person I’m in love with is named Darren.”
Sam turned to him but was at a loss.
“What? A guy can’t be a cop and gay?” Conrad asked, but there was a teasing bend to his words.
Sam shook his head. “No, man! I’m not saying that at all. It just never occurred to me that you were.”
Conrad nodded. “I hate to admit it, but it’s been easier since my dad died. He would have never understood. He was a pretty imposing, set in his ways kind of guy.”
“Oh, I remember,” Sam said, sharing a look with the man. “I may be six-five, but the two of you scared the shit out of me when I was twenty-one.”
Conrad chuckled. “That shotgun he kept on the wall in his chambers didn’t help.”
“No, it certainly did not,” Sam replied.
Conrad met his gaze. “Darren’s helped me a lot with this. When I saw you here a few weeks ago, it opened up everything I’d locked away about Kara’s death. I never let myself grieve. I held on to the guilt. I held on to the anger. Darren helped me see how that was holding me back. I was like a man stuck, stymied. Does that make sense?”
Sam clapped Conrad on the shoulder. “That makes complete sense to me. I’ve been living the same way for all these years, too.”
“It looks like you’ve found your way. You married the girl you’ve always loved.”
Just the mention of Zoe made him smile. “I am, and I’m grateful. But it wasn’t an easy road to get here. You’ll figure out a way with Darren. I know you will.”
The man nodded. “Can I ask you about something your wife said?”
“Of course,” he answered as a prickly sensation took over.
Conrad shifted his stance. “She’d mentioned the girls’ rehabilitation center. She said things were going on right under my nose. Do you know what she was talking about?”
Sam stared at the man. This heart to heart felt genuine, but he needed to play this close to the vest. “She’s trying to learn a little bit about the place. Do you have much interaction with them?”
He shook his head. “No, and I don’t like that. A private contractor runs the facility. They handle everything in-house. I’ve offered help. I could connect the kids getting out to local mental health and youth services, but I’ve been met with a brick wall.”
“What do they tell you?” Sam asked.
“They cite confidentiality of minors and a range of bullshit excuses. They’ve got a team of attorneys, and from what I’ve heard, the juvenile detention officers have to sign nondisclosure agreements. Nobody who works there can say anything of value about the place, and they’ve hired several young men from the area to work as guards.”
“They are providing jobs. That’s got to help with the economy of small towns,” Sam offered, remembering what Zoe had told him.
Conrad nodded. “That may be so, but these aren’t the sort of men I’d want around vulnerable girls.”
Every muscle in Sam’s body tightened. “How so?”
“A few of them have assault convictions. I know because I was the one who arrested them. And at one time or another, I’ve hauled each one of them in for drunken and disorderly conduct. They also seem to have plenty of money to throw around. Most prison guards aren’t making bank, but these young men seem to have plenty of cash.”
“Are people complaining? Are the girls’ families reaching out to you?”
“That’s the thing. Not a peep. Not one damned complaint.”
“Hmm,” Sam hummed, not liking this one bit.
“I know your wife’s a reporter, Sam. I looked her up after our encounter a few weeks ago.”
He met Conrad’s gaze. “She’s a smart woman. She’s just looking under a few rocks, seeing if there’s anything there.”
Conrad nodded. “I could see she wasn’t the timid type, Sam. Just tell her to watch herself. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is off with that place.”
19
“All right, ladies! It’s go time!” Em said, slowing down as they approached the security gate.
Two slouching young men dressed in ball caps and dark uniforms perked up and tossed something behind a trash can.
“We may be the most exciting thing that happens to them today,” Monica said.
Em frowned. “Yeah, but two guards for a girls’ juvenile rehabilitation center? Seems a little excessive.”
Zoe nodded, but her attention was on the items haphazardly tucked behind the garbage bin.
Beer bottles.
Not very professional to be drinking on the job—even if it was a boring as hell position. The taller of the guards tucked a baggie into his pocket while a shorter, stockier guard came to the window—each with a gun on their belt.
Em rolled down her window. “Good afternoon, gentleman, I’m Em MacCaslin and this is Monica Brandt. We’re reporting for community outreach.”
They’d decided the ambush approach was the best approach. Monica had floated the idea of reaching out to her fan club member, the facility’s director Mr. Dwain Q. Leonard, ahead of time, but Zoe had argued against it. They needed to catch the detention center off guard. If the facility had weeks to prepare, all they would get was a dog and pony show.
“And who’s she?” the taller guard asked, pointing to her in the backseat.
Monica leaned over the console and giving the guard a little peek at the assets that had Gabe completely enamored. “An assistant. A nobody.”
The man stared a beat, then two, then three.
The stocky one elbowed him in the side. “What are you here for?”
Em drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Our PR people told us that we had a community service engagement here.”
The neurons in the tall guard’s brain must have rebooted, and he snapped his fingers. “You’re the famous musician with the great ass from Langley Park, and she’s the hot baking lady from TV!”
Zoe pressed her lips together and prayed her friend didn’t slap the stupid grin off this idiot’s face.
“Look, Monica!” Em answered in an over the top tone. “Two fans!”
“How wonderful! Your director, the honorable Dwain Q. Leonard, is a member of my fan club,” Monica answered, matching Em’s ditzy-girl routine.
Zoe held back a laugh. The honorable part was a nice touch and seemed to work. The once lazy most likely half-baked guards were eating out of her friends’ hands.
The stocky one looked at a clipboard. “Um, we don’t have you on the list.”
Monica gasped. “That just can’t be right! Call your director. Tell him Monica Brandt and Em MacCaslin are here for our community outreach. I’m going to do a baking demonstration, and Em is going to teach the girls a little about music. Completely harmless!”
“Yes, and we’re a little late. Why don’t you open the gate, and we’ll drive up while you let the honorable Director Leonard know we’re here?”
The guard
s looked at each other and then to the clipboard.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Monica said, picking up a small pastry box. “These cupcakes are for you!”
She opened the lid, and two German chocolate cupcakes sat side by side in all their chocolate glory.
“Oh, dude!” the tall guard said.
Yep, these two were baked. The cupcake distraction was a good call.
The guard reached for the box, but Em raised her hand. “Gate first. Cupcakes second.”
The tall one ran to the guard station and pushed a button while the stocky one stared hard at the box. He glanced at the gate. The moment it was open, he reached for the cupcakes.
Em shifted the car into drive. “Have a nice day!”
“It really shouldn’t be this easy,” Monica said under her breath.
Zoe nodded, but they weren’t in yet. “That was really good. Let’s keep playing the diva card. I’m hoping they won’t ask to see identification.”
“If they do, we’ll just have Monica pull out more cupcakes,” Em said. “How many did you bring?”
She gave them a naughty grin. “Six dozen.”
“Hot damn!” Em hooted. “With six dozen cupcakes, we could probably take this place down in fifteen minutes if everyone here is as high as those two.”
“Did you smell the alcohol on them?” Monica asked.
“That’s not a good sign,” Zoe said, going into reporter mode. “Lack of oversight. Lack of training. Lack of professionalism. Those things all bode badly for the girls locked up inside.”
Monica turned in her seat and met her gaze. “You’re right. We need to be careful.”
Em turned into a small parking lot. “What we need to do is drop some serious Charlie’s Angels on their asses.”
Zoe looked between her friends. “I don’t want to get you guys into any trouble.”
Em parked the car. “Zoe, we want to help. Now stop being a crusty slice of day-old, worried Wonder bread, and tell us the best case scenario of how you want this to go down.”
“I appreciate this. More than you’ll ever know,” Zoe said.
“Nice use of crusty slice of day-old Wonder bread,” Monica complimented. “I might have gone with uptight pudding sniffer.”
Zoe shook her head. “Now you guys are just showing off.” She glanced at the building. Nobody had come to greet them yet. They had some time.
Zoe started counting on her fingers. “First thing, they’ll probably want you to leave your phone with them. I have a decoy phone with me that I’ll give to them, but my real phone is packed in with Em’s violin.”
“Okay, keep going,” Monica said, nodding.
“Number two, divide and conquer. Monica, you ask to be taken to the cafeteria or wherever they have ovens. Em, you need to ask for a room to set up the keyboards. If we have their attention divided, there’s a better chance I can do some snooping around.”
Em shared a look with Monica. “Yep, we can do that.”
“Number three, a diversion would be great. It could give me more time to look around.”
“Do you want me to pretend to pass out?” Em asked.
Zoe shook her head. “No, that might seem too suspicious.”
A coy smile pulled at the corners of Monica’s lips. “If everything goes our way, I’ll be baking.”
Zoe cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, and?”
“And…things can burn. Puff pastry can be very temperamental,” Monica added with a wink.
“I bet a place like this wouldn’t want the fire department to come charging in,” Em said.
Monica nodded. “Yep, if things got a little smoky, the guards would be the ones scrambling to air out the place. A baking mishap wouldn’t seem deliberate. I’m not familiar with their ovens. It’s an easy mistake to make.”
Zoe drummed her fingers on her knee. This sounded crazy. Absolutely crazy. But it was all she had. She glanced up and saw a man in a dark suit coming their way. “I think we’ve got Dwain Q. at twelve o’clock.”
Monica reached into her bag. “Hold on! That man has about a hundred pictures of me in my apron posted on his baking blog. I’m going to throw it on.”
“Nice touch!” Zoe said.
Monica slipped a white apron over her head and tucked a dish towel in the pocket as a sweaty looking man lumbered toward the Range Rover.
Monica got out of the car, all TV star, ex-supermodel smile on display. “You must be Director Dwain Leonard.”
A coffee stain on his tie, the man’s gaze hovered a few inches below her chin. “I’m sorry it took me so long to greet you, Miss Brandt. I wasn’t aware you were coming. We didn’t have your visit on the approved list. The center’s legal counsel usually approves any outside appointments, but he’s been out of town the last few days.”
“Oh, dear! And I was so ready to teach your girls how to make my grandmother’s famous apple strudel.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Is it the recipe with raisins and cinnamon?”
“You know it?” Monica asked, really working the ingénue angle.
The man pressed his palms together. “Of course! I’m a big fan of your show. Not so much the guy, but you, you’re my favorite.”
“This guy’s pretty creepy,” Em whispered as they listened to the conversation.
Zoe nodded. “He’s hit a category four creepiness for me.”
“Not five?” Em whispered back.
“Nope, I’m saving five for when he spontaneously orgasms all over Monica’s strudel.”
“Em!” Monica said, waving to them. “Come meet the director, Dr. Leonard.”
“It’s just Mr. Leonard. For you, Dwain.”
“Em, meet Dwain,” Monica said, playing it just right.
Zoe needed to be as interesting to this man as paint drying. The stars were Em and Monica. She was the hired help. She went to the back of the car, pulled out the dolly, and started loading it up as Monica introduced Em to the director who instantly began falling all over himself.
Good! The man was nervous and off balance. Just where they wanted him. And what a stroke of luck to have the facility’s attorney out of town. She wheeled the dolly to the front of the car and kept her gaze on her shoes.
“Looks like we’re ready to go!” Monica said. “Oh, wait! I almost forgot the cupcakes. Can you carry them, Dwain? I’ve got my hands full with my homemade puff pastry.”
“You brought cupcakes?”
Monica sighed. “Only six dozen.”
Dwain’s already ample gut looked ready to pop a button on his dress shirt in anticipation. He licked his lips. “Are any of them German chocolate cake?”
Monica leaned in. “They’re all German chocolate cake.”
“She really did her homework,” Em said under her breath.
Zoe nodded. “If we have any cupcakes left, we could probably rob a bank with her after this.”
“Or take over a small country,” Em replied.
“Barbados?”
Em gave a slight shake of her head. “Too much sun. Not good for gingers. Liechtenstein. Europe. Better shopping. More cloud cover.”
“You have quite a bit of equipment,” Dwain said, glancing back.
Em threaded her arm through his. “Those are just a few keyboards and a couple of violins. I also brought my personal violin. The one I played for the Queen of England.”
Dwain’s eyes went wide. “The Queen of England!”
Em glanced back at her and winked. Her friends were Charlie’s Angeling the shit out of this sham.
They got to the door, and Dwain waved for a guard to buzz them inside.
Zoe’s heart rate kicked up. They did it! But anxiety set in when a stern looking guard eyed her dolly.
“Sir,” the guard said, gaze raking over the women. “We’ll need to collect the cell phones and any other devices.”
“Not a problem.” Monica slid her phone out of her purse.
Em did the same.
Then the guard came to h
er. He met her gaze with a hardened hazel stare. “Phone?”
Zoe pulled the dummy cell out of her pocket and handed it to the man as a burst of adrenaline shot through her. She recognized his voice. He was one of the guards who’d chased down the girl trying to escape.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Here you go.”
“All right, ladies,” Dwain said. “Let’s go into my office.”
“Sir, I need to check them in.”
“Looks like your guard doesn’t recognize us, Dwain,” Monica said with a great faux-pout.
Sweat glistened on the director’s lip. “Baumgartner, don’t you have a block you need to check?”
“But—”
“No buts, Baumgartner. And please let staff know that we’ll be doing something different today. We’ve got celebrity guests doing baking and music demonstrations.”
“Of course, sir,” the man said with a tight nod.
“Come, come! I apologize.” Dwain dabbed at his lip with a handkerchief. “I’m sure you understand, we need to maintain a level of security to protect the girls.”
“Of course, for the girls,” Em echoed.
Em and Monica took the two chairs at Dwain’s desk as he shifted his ample body into a cushy leather rocker. Zoe stood at the back of the room with the dolly and held back a triumphant smile.
They were in!
And no identification check.
As casually as possible, she glanced around the room. Nothing inside the office looked out of the ordinary. A few framed photographs of fishing trips. Binders lining bookshelves. She was about to start staring at her shoes and play the wallflower when a folder marked due dates sat under a pile of papers. Her gut twisted as she thought of Tessa. She didn’t know how far along the girl was, but she had to be close to delivering.
Em tapped her chin. “Dwain, since we’re on a schedule, we thought it best to do our demonstrations separately.”
Monica put on a thousand-watt smile. “Yes! I was hoping for a kitchen or cafeteria setting. Somewhere with an oven.”
The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5) Page 127