“I shot just fine yesterday,” I reminded him.
“You did,” Dutch admitted. “And you have no idea how relieved I am that Rodriguez was conscious and alert enough to talk you through it. But what if he hadn’t been? What if that bullet had taken him out? What do you think would have happened to you?”
I wiped the tears off my cheeks and sniffled loudly while looking down at my lap. Into the long silence that followed his question, I finally shrugged and mumbled, “Dunno.”
Dutch lifted my chin with his fingers and those gorgeous midnight blues pinned me to my seat. “I do,” he whispered. “And that’s what scares me. It’s also why I won’t take no for an answer. Now, we can continue to argue about this, or you can come in with me and get it over with.”
For the record, we did a little of both. The argument continued into the gun shop, through the fitting of ear-plugs and earphones, into the range—where Dutch tried to educate me on the various parts of a gun, how to load the bullets, how to hold a firearm properly—and all during the placement of the paper target.
In the end I got off eight rounds, noticing with satisfaction that seven of those shot nice round holes into the paper target. I then set the gun down and refused to continue. All of Dutch’s efforts to make me feel more comfortable and confident around weapons were just too close to the trauma I’d been through the day before.
I tried to explain that to him on the way home, but he was surprisingly unsympathetic. “Then we’ll get you a therapist to talk about what happened in Waco, but you’re still going to the range with me on a regular basis.”
I believe I broke my no-swearing rule at that point with a few colorfully worded expletives that I’d kept in case of emergency, and after that, we stopped speaking to each other altogether.
When we got home, I didn’t even go inside with Dutch. Instead, I was so pissed off that I got in my own car and headed to Candice’s.
When I got close to her condo, I thought it might be best to call ahead. “Hey,” I said when she answered the phone. “Can I share in your I-hate-my-boyfriend misery?”
“Aww, Sundance, what’s up?”
“Dutch is being an asterisk.” I was already feeling bad about the explosion of expletives from earlier.
Candice chuckled. “And you called to talk about it?”
“Actually, I’m about a block away from your condo. Can I hang out with you tonight?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line and it suddenly occurred to me that Candice might already have made up with Harrison. “Um . . . ,” she said. “Sure.”
My shoulders drooped. “No,” I said, already turning on the blinker for a U-turn. “That’s okay, honey. I can sense you have company, and the last thing I want is to be a third wheel.”
Candice chuckled again. “It’s not what you think, Abs. Come on over. We’d love to see you.”
I struggled with whether to accept her invite now that I knew she wasn’t alone. I hated to intrude, but I had nowhere else to go and I really did need a shoulder to cry on. “Okay,” I said. “If you’re positive I won’t be in the way.”
“You won’t. Plus, I have wine and snacks from the restaurant downstairs.”
“See you in two minutes.” Good old Candice knew just what I needed after a terrible day. I made a mental note to get her to instruct Dutch on how to treat my stressed-out self.
I made it over to Candice’s condo and up to her floor in record time. I pressed her bell and waited. In short order the door was opened and I found myself staring into the twinkling eyes of the last man on earth I expected to see there. Without a second thought I threw myself forward and tackled him to the ground.
Chapter Six
“Milo!” I shouted as we tumbled to the ground. “Ohmigod! What’re you doing here?”
“Well,” he said awkwardly as he tried to get up while I hugged him fiercely. “Right now, I’m hoping you didn’t break my back.”
“Sorry!” I said, scrambling off Dutch’s best friend. “I’ve just missed you!”
Milo wheezed his funny laugh and got up stiffly. “You saw me last week.”
I took a step back. “Really? It’s only been a week?” He nodded. “Good God!” I said. “It feels like so much longer.”
Candice came out from the kitchen holding a beautiful goblet of red wine. “Here,” she said, placing it in my hand. “Drink first. Catch up later.”
I took a huge sip and closed my eyes in delight. It was a smooth seductive vintage. “That is amazing,” I said, opening my eyes only to have an egg roll placed in my free hand.
“Eat,” she ordered.
I popped the egg roll in my mouth. It was light and buttery and slightly spicy. “Jesus,” I whispered. “I may never go back home.”
Candice motioned us toward the living room, and Milo and I took our seats while Candice fussed over us with plates and dips and hors d’oeuvres. Only after she took her seat did I say to Milo, “Dutch never told me you were coming to town.”
Milo’s eyes shifted to Candice. They exchanged a look and I knew there was something going on here. “Spill it,” I ordered.
Milo smiled and ducked his chin. “You’d just tune in on it anyway, so, okay, Abby, I’ll tell you; Candice invited me here.”
Now, for the record, Candice and Milo haven’t always been the best of chums. In fact, there had been many a moment when they’d been downright testy with each other, so this was quite a surprise. “She did?”
“I heard the news through a friend of mine,” Candice explained.
“News? What news?” Why was I always the last to hear about stuff?
Milo looked uncomfortable and he played with the egg roll on his plate. “I got laid off,” he said.
“What?”
“Now, don’t get all excited, Abby,” he warned. “It’s a blessing.”
“The Royal Oak PD laid you off? Why? When? Why?” I was repeating myself, I knew, but Milo had been such a good and decorated detective that I couldn’t imagine the reasoning behind letting him go.
“In the end, it came down to budget cuts and politics,” Milo said, lifting his wineglass and swirling the contents thoughtfully. “Given the fact that I’d be the least affected financially, my commander came to me and asked if I’d like to volunteer for the layoff.”
“Jerkwad!” I shouted.
Milo smiled and winked at me. “Yes, but he was also right. Thanks to you and those lucky numbers you gave me, and the security business Dutch and I run on the side, I’m set for life. And if I could save the livelihood of a younger detective, then it was the least I could do.”
“Does Dutch know?” I couldn’t imagine my sweetheart keeping that kind of news from me.
“No,” Milo admitted. “He doesn’t. You guys had so much going on these past couple of weeks that I didn’t need to add my stuff to your plates.”
“Does he even know you’re here?”
Milo smiled wickedly and took a sip of wine. “Not until you tell him.”
He had me there. I was terrible at both keeping a secret and lying to my boyfriend. I’d probably spill it the moment I saw him. “You mean you were just going to come into town, hang out with Candice, and not even see us?” I was a little hurt that Milo wouldn’t tell us he’d come to Austin.
He was quick to reassure me. “Abs, you guys were next on my list of places to visit. Candice heard that I’d been laid off and invited me down here, which meant that I needed to see her first.”
“So what are you going to do?” I asked. “I mean, I know you and Dutch have the security business to manage, but is that enough for you?”
Again Milo and Candice exchanged a look. “He’s going to work with me,” she announced.
“Maybe,” Milo corrected. “I haven’t made up my mind yet, remember?”
I blinked and shook my head. “Hold on,” I said firmly. “Will one of you please explain what the hello-dolly is going on here?”
Milo chuckled. “She?
??s still not swearing?” he asked Candice.
Candice laughed too. “Oh, she’s still trying not to swear. I’m not convinced that she’s given up completely.”
I felt my cheeks flush, especially after what I’d let loose in Dutch’s car. “Don’t change the subject. Tell me what’s going on!”
“I’ve applied for a PI license down here,” Candice said. “I’m going to open up my own office, and I’ve asked Milo to be my partner.”
I felt my eyes widen and a little hurt entered my heart. “I thought I was your partner,” I said meekly.
Candice cocked her head. “Honey,” she said. “You’re working with the FBI now, remember?”
I frowned. “Maybe not for much longer.”
It was Candice’s turn to look surprised. “What’s happened?”
“I got suspended.” I then explained to Milo what’d happened in Waco and how I’d spent the day being grilled by IA only to be told by Harrison that I was on paid leave until Rodriguez and I were cleared.
“For Christ’s sake,” Candice spat. “Brice needs to grow a friggin’ pair and stand up for you!”
“He did,” I said. “I swear he did, Candice. But it’s a little out of his hands.”
Candice didn’t seem convinced, though, and I remembered Brice’s request to have me talk some sense into her. I figured that with Milo around maybe I’d wait for a time when she and I had a little more privacy. “So, anyway, after I got the third degree from IA, Dutch takes me to the shooting range!”
Milo’s eyes widened. “He what?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, getting worked up all over again. “His idea of helping me to relax is to put a gun in my hand and order me to shoot.”
Milo shook his head back and forth and wheezed. “For such a smart guy, he can really be stupid about women.”
“Right?”
But Candice wasn’t convinced. “Sorry, Sundance, but I’m with Dutch on this one. You do get in a lot of sticky situations. And you really do need to learn how to properly handle a gun.”
My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe she was taking his side. “Are you serious?”
Candice got up to retrieve the wine bottle from the kitchen counter. “I am,” she said, coming over to pour more into my glass. “And you do.”
“Traitor,” I sniffed.
“What if I taught you?” she asked kindly. “Would that help?”
I rubbed my temples. All this talk about guns and shooting was giving me another headache. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Candice sat back down and crossed her legs, looking at me in that way that suggested she was just as determined as Dutch to make me into a deadly weapon. “ ’Kay,” she said easily. “You think about it and we’ll head out to the range when you’re ready.”
I looked to Milo for help, but his expression suggested that he was now also on Candice’s side. “You really do get into a lot of trouble. And once you’ve used a gun a few times, you realize they aren’t so scary.”
I narrowed my eyes at them. “We need to change the subject. All this talk about guns and shooting people is a total buzzkill.”
That night I slept on Candice’s couch. Both she and Milo had convinced me to at least send Dutch a text message letting him know where I was.
He didn’t text back.
Which was fine by me.
Okay, so it wasn’t, but . . . whatever.
Maybe we both needed a little break from each other anyway.
Still, by the time Milo left to go knock on our door and surprise Dutch, I was already feeling bad about giving him the cold shoulder.
The next morning Candice woke me with the most delicious-smelling coffee ever made. At least, to my nose it was. “I will take an entire pot of that,” I said, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.
Candice placed a nice steaming mug of java into my hands. “What’s on your agenda for today?”
I hugged the mug and inhaled deeply. “A whole lot of nothing much,” I said. “I’ll probably just go home, unpack a few boxes, and mope.”
“That sounds like all kinds of fun.”
“What’s on your docket?”
“I was going to look for office space. Care to ride along?”
“You’re really hanging a shingle down here?”
“I am.”
“I thought you were going to take it easy. Enjoy life. Hang with your boy toy.”
Candice stared into her cup, circling the rim with her finger. “Things change.”
I took a sip of coffee, which was smooth and creamy, then set down the mug and focused on my friend. “He’d been planning it for a while, you know.”
Her eyes shot up to meet mine. “Who’d been planning what?”
I smiled and leaned back against the cushions. “You know who. Brice. He’d been planning on proposing to you for a while.”
“Did he tell you to tell me that?”
I laughed. “No. Well, at least he asked me not to say anything until he had to get me to say something because you kicked him out.”
“Huh?”
“I picked up on the whole engagement thing last Sunday when Dutch and I came over to visit you guys. My radar plucked it out of the ether while we were all having drinks on the balcony.”
Candice turned to stare out the large sliding glass door. “Was that why he acted all funny and pulled you into the kitchen?”
I winked at her. “Yep.”
A mixture of emotions crossed Candice’s face, but eventually she seemed to soften. “He really was planning to ask me to marry him back then?”
I nodded. “You should see the ring, honey. It’s awesome.”
“There’s a ring?”
“Of course there’s a ring! He’s had it in his pocket for like a week, trying to work up the courage to ask you. And the other day after we had lunch, I sort of tore into him and told him to propose already because you were getting mixed signals from him, only he forgot the ring at his office and . . . well, you know the rest.”
“Oh, shit!” Candice said, jumping to her feet. “I have to call him!”
I got up myself. “Yes, you do,” I told her. “And I need to boogie. Call me later, after I get a shower in and change my clothes, and we’ll go hunt for some office space.”
I left Candice twirling in circles as she considered what to say to Brice. My friend wasn’t so great with the apologies, so I hoped she kept it short and sweet and that the two of them got back together quick.
Dutch was gone by the time I got home, and Milo must have tagged along with him to work because there was a rental car in our driveway, and a suitcase in the spare bedroom, but no sign of our good friend.
I did a preliminary search of the kitchen for any sign of a note from my S.O., but I was S.O.L. on that one. “Love you too, cowboy,” I groused as I headed upstairs to take a shower.
A little later as I was working on unpacking a box in the living room, Candice called to say that she was on her way to pick me up.
While I was waiting for her, I decided to gather all the files I’d brought home over the past few days so that Dutch could take them back into the office, which he must have forgotten to do that morning.
There was a small stack of new files on the kitchen table, and I couldn’t help it—I opened the top one, just to take a quick peek.
I got a small shock when I saw a smiling, beautiful young girl with ebony skin, brilliant white teeth, and pig-tails held by Pokémon bands.
The file was labeled “Missing Persons” and belonged to a nine-year-old named Fatina Carter. She’d gone missing from a south Dallas suburb in January of 2009. Her grandmother said that Fatina had left home early one Saturday morning to visit with a friend one street over. She never made it to her friend’s house and she was never seen again.
Her image appeared flat and plastic to my intuitive eye, and I knew better than almost anyone else what’d happened to her. I looked through the file quickly, which was easy considering there was precious littl
e there.
By the case notes I discovered that an extensive search of the area around Fatina’s home had been conducted, along with interviews with family, friends, and neighbors. No one knew anything; no one saw anything. Fatina had vanished into thin air.
Closing my eyes, I focused on her file with my radar and immediately I saw the image of paint cans and a roller. I opened my eyes again and stared at the beautiful little girl, certain that whoever had taken her had also taken someone else.
I got up and began rummaging around in my pile of files, searching until I found the one on Keisha. I opened it and used my finger to scroll through the pages, searching for any connection the two different agents had made to these nearly identical cases—but no link had ever been made, even though both investigations had been handled by the same bureau in Dallas. “Rat bastards,” I said, angry that no red flags had gone up with two missing girls of similar description and age.
A knock on the door startled me and I hurried to let Candice in. “You ready?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Just give me a sec.”
I ran around for a bit, making sure Eggy and Tuttle got the opportunity to water the lawn one last time before I grabbed my purse, my keys, and, after a quick second thought, the two files on Fatina and Keisha.
“You’re bringing work along?” Candice asked when she saw the files.
“Yeah. Do you mind?”
“No. Of course not.”
We got in her car and buckled up. As she pulled out of my driveway, I asked, “How’d it go with Brice?”
Candice made a derisive sound. “He can be such a prick, sometimes.”
My eyes widened. “I take it your discussion did not go well?”
Candice gripped the steering wheel and was quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “I called him and told him that I wanted to talk, and could he get away for lunch? He said he was too busy to get away, and could he call me later?”
I waited for the rest of the story, which would reflect Brice’s obvious “prick”-ness, but nothing more followed. “That bastard!” I finally said with a giggle.