CHAPTER 21

“Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we’re here we may as well dance.”

—Jeanne C. Stein

“So, what do you know about these guys?” Traci asked Dylan. They were sitting at their desks in the main room at the precinct, which faced each other. They’d just finished their first meeting and got the latest reports and ongoing investigations from the lieutenant.

While two other officers went out to do patrol, Dylan had gotten permission to make some calls about the letter Jennifer received.

Now, thinking about Traci’s question, he struggled to keep his composure. There was a deep part of him that just about lost it every time he even thought about the two guys who were convicted and sentenced for attacking Jennifer.

“One guy was a thug. He had a list of petty crimes and warnings, and by the time he attacked my sister he’d served a year for a class-two burglary. The other one? He was part of a third-rate motorcycle gang and high on some crap. When we dug deeper, we uncovered a charge against him for sexual assault that had later been dropped.”

“So they were scum.”

Dylan didn’t even bother responding. As far as he was concerned, they were worse than that. It was difficult, but he continued. “Their DNA was on her. After we tracked them down and picked them up, things went relatively smoothly. They got sentenced to five to ten.”

“It’s only been two years, though, right?”

“Yeah. Two years and change. They’re still inside. I texted a buddy of mine late last night just to make sure.”

“So . . .”

“There was a third guy.”

“And he’s who we’re worried about.”

“Yep. It’s in the report, but Jennifer—whenever she does talk about it, which is pretty much never—doesn’t usually mention him.”

“Why not?”

“I guess he was just lurking and keeping watch. He was there but didn’t put his hands on Jen. Not that she remembers, anyway.” With effort, he tried to pull the emotion out of the explanation. “He was acting as their lookout.”

She frowned. “I’m trying really hard not to say anything to make you angrier.”

“I promise that’s not possible. Anyway, this guy, this Lance, was only sixteen and looked like he was about thirteen when the DA was making his case. Since he hadn’t actually touched Jennifer, he wasn’t given much more than a slap on his hand—just a couple of months in juvie. I think that’s who has been following my sister around.”

“What do you want to do?”

He grimaced, hating that in order to be the man he needed to be he couldn’t do what he ached to do, which was to find the guy and beat the crap out of him. “Let’s go for a drive and see what we can find out.”

“I’m game. Where do you have in mind?”

“It just so happens that Lance’s parents live in Bridgeport.”

She smiled as she held up the day’s reports, signifying things they should be looking for. “That suits me. We’ll take a visit, and while we’re at it, I’ll keep an eye out for anything on the lieutenant’s list.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Fifteen minutes later they were on their way. Traci was driving and Dylan was riding shotgun. She’d raised her eyebrows when he asked if she wanted to drive, but honestly, he wasn’t one of those guys who insisted on always being behind the wheel. Today, especially, his mind was so full of details and memories that he was afraid he wouldn’t have the reflexes he would need if they came across something.

Instead, he looked out the window, reported their destination to the dispatcher, and gave Traci the directions.

She pulled in front of a nondescript house in the heart of one of the largest subdivisions in town. “This is it?”

“Yep.” He unbuckled his seat belt and took a deep breath. He needed to control himself and keep it together. He needed to remind himself that Lance having been the one to leave the note was only a hunch. It was a good one, but it wasn’t based on evidence or facts.

Traci had unbuckled but was still staring up the house. “I’m just going to say it. This place surprises me.”

“Why? Did you expect us to pull into a run-down trailer park or something?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Probably.”

He gave her a sideways look. “What’s on your mind, Lucky? Maybe that it looks like the house you grew up in?”

“Uh, no.” She glanced at him and quirked a brow. “You know I didn’t grow up in a place half as nice as this, right?”

“I don’t know much about you besides your service record, and that you didn’t know about your sisters until recently.”

“The three of us were separated when we were real young. Shannon and I were toddlers and Kimber was just a newborn.”

“Separated by whom?”

“By the adoption agency, I guess. Back then, I guess they didn’t think there was anything wrong with separating siblings.”

“I know Shannon grew up in a small town in West Virginia.”

“She did.” Looking straight ahead, Traci added. “Kimber was adopted by a couple up in New York. I was never adopted. I grew up in a group home in Cleveland.”

He knew enough that he was able to read between the lines. “That sucks.”

‘Yeah.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to run us down memory lane. Let’s go pay a visit to Mr. and Mrs. . . . ?”

“Wengard.”

She nodded and then got out and slipped her cell phone into a pocket. He did the same and led the way up the walkway, looking around the yard as he did.

Everything seemed quiet. Not abandoned, but definitely not a lot of life. Two lights shone through the windows. One on the bottom floor in what looked like the living room. One upstairs in what was probably a bedroom. Those were sure signs that they were out of town.

Still . . . he could be wrong.

He knocked. Listened for movement. When he didn’t hear anything, he knocked again.

After another minute went by, Traci looked his way. “Seems pretty quiet.”

“Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.”

“I’m going to take a walk around the back.”

He nodded, stepping back to see what the neighbors were doing. The woman to the right looked to be watching television. The house on the other side looked quiet, but from the looks of the sports equipment on the lawn and in the driveway, it was a foregone conclusion that the kids were at school and their parents were at work.

Traci came back. “Nothing to see back there. Blinds were down. Porch needs shoveling.”

“I looked at the neighbors’ houses. Nothing much to see there, either. I’m guessing everyone’s at school and work.

“Want to do you want to do?”

That simple question meant a lot to him. Even though Traci likely had plenty of her own reports to type up and other work to do, she was willing to put it aside for his needs. Here she was, pretty much telling him that she’d sit and stake out the property, knock on doors, do whatever he wanted. That kind of generosity in a department was rare.

He didn’t want to take advantage of it, especially since they were only visiting the Wengard’s place on a hunch. “Come on. Let’s move on.”

“All right . . . Do you want to drive now?”

“Nah. You go ahead.”

She smiled at him, obviously pleased about that. “How about we visit a couple of parks?”

He laughed. “Sure.” He was partial to visiting the public areas around Bridgeport a couple times a week. If a teenager was in trouble, he or she might be hanging around there. Sometimes he might even find an older person walking or sitting by themselves. He liked taking a minute to talk to folks. It was good small-town police work. Bridgeport officers were a part of the community, and the citizens appreciated them.

He believed these interactions were important, and they were. Just like a lot of other police departments, Bridgeport’s motto was Protect and Serve, and he saw that as looking out for the people in small ways, too.

But Traci? Well, it was obvious she was still getting the hang of not being busy every minute of the day. Sometimes he felt the need to remind her that just because they weren’t dealing with homicides, impaired drivers, and lots of domestic violence cases didn’t mean their work wasn’t important.

She pulled out onto the street and drove along slowly. “Freedom Park first?”

“Sure. It’s right around the corner.”

“I remember.”

Just as he was about to ask how she was feeling, getting used to the slower pace, she spoke again. “So, I’m just going to say it. I think Shannon likes you.”

Well, that little tidbit came out of nowhere. Ignoring the burst of happiness that ran through him at the news, he spoke carefully. “She told you that?”

“Not in so many words. She and I might not be super close yet, we’re close enough for me to see the way she looks at you.”

“And?”

“And it’s affectionate. Maybe more like longing.” She drew to a stop, flipped on her turn signal, and then made a right. “I think you need to take her out on a real date.”

Glad he wasn’t driving, he gaped at her. When she smiled, he coughed. “Are you pulling my leg?”

“No, sir, I am not.” She pulled into the park. It was going on eleven thirty, overcast, and about thirty-eight degrees. The park was empty. “Want me to drive to the back?”

“Yeah.” He scanned the area, hoping that they wouldn’t see anyone. And, luckily, they didn’t.

After Traci made a loop, she pulled out onto the street. “Palmer Park now?”

“Yep.”

Just as she was turning left, a white Chevy pickup truck zipped by, going easily thirty miles over the speed limit.

“Yee-haw,” Traci said with a grin. She turned on the siren and picked up speed. While she tailed the truck, Dylan pulled out the computer to enter in the plates.

Dylan shook his head in dismay, but he couldn’t really disagree with the way she felt. Pulling over speeders was far easier to deal with than the ghosts that were pulling at him over Jennifer’s attack.

When the pickup pulled over and they noticed that the driver was a kid who looked to be about sixteen, Traci grinned. “Looks like somebody might be loving his new driver’s license just a little bit too much.”

When Dylan noticed the boy had just rested his forehead on his steering wheel, he inwardly groaned. Tears and drama might be on the way.

Traci opened her door. “I’ll be back.”

“Go get ’em, tiger. But don’t forget that you are in Bridgeport not inner-city Cleveland. Kid gloves, remember?”

She waggled her fingers. “I’ve got ’em on,” she said as she headed toward the truck.

Deciding to join her at last, he almost smiled when he approached. Officer Traci Lucky had affected a perfect stance of all business and motherly manner while she was giving him what-for for speeding. The kid looked contrite and nervous but not scared stiff. All in all, the exchange seemed to be going as well as it could.

Dylan made a mental note to praise her for that when they went to lunch later. A lot of cops from the big city never seemed to be able to find the right way of talking with the suburban residents of Bridgeport. Traci wasn’t one of them.

Lots of things in his life were up in the air, but this new partnership? He couldn’t have asked for anyone better.