“Walsh was what? Five or six years younger than her?” When they’d first met, Kerri had believed Cross to be older than her. Not that thirtysomething was so old, but Cross looked closer to forty. Her career—and the drinking and smoking—had taken a toll on her. In all fairness, the woman had gone through hell. Abducted and held hostage for nearly a year. She’d come back damaged, physically and emotionally. Who wouldn’t look a little older under those circumstances?
“You know what they say,” Falco tossed back. “Age is just a number.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t seem like her type.”
“I have to agree with you there.”
A comfortable silence settled between them. Sometimes when they were working a case, they didn’t say a word. Just did some thinking, but those quiet moments hummed between them—like music no one else but the two of them could hear. Maybe this connection they had was like Kerri looking through the pantry—it prompted inspiration.
Sometimes it even felt as though this thing went beyond work and friendship, but she kept that idea at bay. Always. She didn’t want to lose this man as a professional partner or as a friend.
“You guys had dinner yet? I’m only a couple of blocks from that sandwich shop Tori loves. I could pick up dinner. Try and cheer her up.”
The first real smile of the day touched Kerri’s lips. “That would be great. Diana wanted us to eat with her crew, but Tori just wanted to come home. Maybe she’ll open up more to you.” Kerri told herself the best part was that she wouldn’t have to cook. But the best part was that Falco was a member of their family now, and there was no denying the fact even if she had felt so inclined.
Tori adored Falco. From all indications, the feeling was mutual. Kerri would trust this man with her child’s life. No question. Whatever haunted him from the part of his past he didn’t like to talk about, he was a good guy.
The past shouldn’t rule the present.
Not that she was so good at keeping it in the moment, but Falco was deeply burdened with his past. She doubted he would ever share all of it with her.
“You got the drinks covered?” he asked, drawing her thoughts back to the moment.
Kerri opened the fridge and double-checked how much beer she had on hand. A six-pack and a couple of cans of cola. “I do.”
“See you in half an hour, then.”
“Thanks, Falco. You’re the best.”
“If you think I’m good now, wait until I tell you what I found out from Sykes.”
Tension slid through Kerri. She leaned against the counter. “When did you talk to Sykes?”
“He called wanting to know more about Tori. If she has a temper. If she gets along well with others. You know, stuff like that.”
Fury belted Kerri hard in the gut. “Are you kidding me?”
“He didn’t want to ask you. He was afraid you’d punch him.”
Damn straight she would have. “He can’t seriously think Tori had anything to do with what happened.”
“I don’t believe he’s leaning in that direction. He just wanted to ask me the things he was afraid to ask you.”
Kerri knew the drill even if she didn’t like it one damned bit when it involved her daughter. “And what did you tell him?”
“That Tori is the sweetest, kindest kid I know. No drugs. No alcohol. No problems whatsoever. Sykes even said the questions were ridiculous, that he knew you’d be on top of any issues. But he had to ask.”
“Thanks for telling me. I’ll try my best not to punch him next time I see him.”
“He and Peterson think it was the Talley girl.”
Kerri couldn’t see that scenario. At all. “I’d wager they’re wrong on that one. I’ve known Sarah since she was five years old. She isn’t violent or mean or hurtful in any way. What did he say about the other girl, Alice Cortez?”
She’s a princess. Kerri couldn’t shake that part of what Tori had told her.
“Only that everyone they’ve interviewed so far sung Cortez’s praises. And, apparently, she wasn’t the one Myers was bullying.”
Kerri’s gut clenched in rejection of the concept Sarah Talley would hurt a fly much less another child. “There is that,” she confessed.
“Turning in at the sandwich shop now.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”
She ended the call and placed her cell on the counter. Could persistent bullying really push a typically good kid to go that far?
Kerri closed her eyes. Of course, it was possible. Basically anything was possible.
She could only imagine what Sarah’s mother was feeling right now. She had tried twice to call and check on Sarah and had to leave a voice mail each time. Kerri wondered if she should be worried that Sarah’s mother hadn’t called to inquire about Tori. Maybe.
She decided it wasn’t personal, just instinct. Fear. Denial. Hope. Anger. All the emotions any mother trying to protect her child would experience.
Worse than any of that, the Myers family was faced with the possibility of losing their child.
Whatever happened . . . all involved were hurt.
7
10:30 p.m.
Taylor Residence
Eighteenth Avenue South
Birmingham
Sadie watched the headlights go out in front of her. The other car had rolled to a stop a few yards from hers. She opened her door and got out. The interior light remained dark. A car’s interior light was the fastest way to get yourself noticed on a stakeout. She’d learned that as a surveillance virgin with her first BPD partner.
A lifetime ago.
She forced the memories away as she walked through the darkness to the passenger side of the other car—a beat-up yellow VW Beetle. She opened the door and got in. Like hers, the interior light remained dark.
“You’ve gotta find yourself a less conspicuous ride,” she told her colleague. “This thing stands out like a lone duck in a pond full of hungry alligators.”
“I can’t part with my baby.”
Sadie shrugged. “A couple cans of spray paint would take care of the problem.”
He grunted and changed the subject. “Anything exciting happen?”
“Not unless you count the two kids playing porch pirates after the mail was delivered this afternoon. Little bastards.”
Heck Keaton surveyed the house Sadie had tasked him with babysitting every night until this was over. “She come out today?”
“Nope.” Sadie and another of her resources were taking care of the day shift. She wanted eyes kept on the Taylor house at all times. Until she had this figured out, it was the least she could do.
Sadie opted not to mention the lady had had visitors. Nothing Sadie hadn’t expected. Falco and Devlin were thorough. “Hopefully this will be another boring night detail.”
“Let the boredom come.” Heck chuckled. “I’m prepared. Back seat’s full of Red Bull and candy bars. I may never sleep again.”
Heck—this was his actual name—Keaton was a former marine. He’d lost a leg on his last tour in the Middle East, but one would never know. The prosthetic worked for him as if it were his own flesh and bone. He worked out religiously. Had the muscled body to prove it. It was the PTSD that gave him the real trouble. The meds kept him leveled out most of the time. When it didn’t, he disappeared. He said going off into his hiding place was better than the alternative. He didn’t trust himself around people when he got like that. Unbalanced. Unable to hold it together.