Sloan backed farther into the bushes. The prickly evergreen tucked at the sleeve of his leather jacket. A scratch appeared. Words formed on his lips, but he bit his tongue to hold them back.

  On the other side of the bush, he stopped on the sidewalk and studied the rough patch on the leather fabric. He scrunched up his face until it hurt. Robert Stone had been the beginning of his troubles.

  The thorn just wouldn’t go away.

  “Hey, mister, you might want to move.”

  A gang of kids on bicycles headed straight for him. He rotated one foot and lifted the other one in the air. The one on the sidewalk reached the edge and began to slip. His arms flailed in a feeble attempt to regain balance, but it was too late. His dark, brown, suede boots slipped into a large puddle of water. He swore as he lifted his foot and water dripped from the interior over the rim.

  Sloan lifted his head and his fist to swear more at the retreating bicycle gang, but before he could say anything a car passed. A wave of water formed and splashed into the air covering his entire body.

  The words came in a torrent. A couple of people came to their front porches and looked at him, cocking their eyebrows before quietly slipping back inside their homes.

  “That’s right. Get back in there in your pink terrycloth robes. There is work being done here. Real work!” he muttered under his breath as he headed for his car. People staring at him. Didn’t they have better things to do?

  The seats of the muscle car were pure genuine leather. They didn’t like being wet anymore than he did. He lifted his phone to his ear and dialed.

  “Take a cab and get over here.”

  “What?”

  “Roxanne, take a cab and get over here. I’m wet and… forget it. I’ll take a cab. We’ll get the car later.”

  He hung up and made another call. The cab company promised a car within fifteen minutes. He started to ask if they knew how cold it was outside and tell them that he was wet, but the phone went silent.

  To keep warm, he jumped from foot to foot. Another car headed his way. He turned his back to them, thinking that would be smart.

  Not quite.

  Water sailed through the air once more giving him another shower.

  Now his back was soaked.

  How he hated this town!

  And he hated Robert Stone.

  First, he needed to check on his visitors that had just gotten off on the White Lily. This last shipment was all he needed to secure funds for the rest of his life. Once the job was complete, he would hunt down Maria Petrov. She’d left him and the crew years ago, but what she’d done he could never forgive. Robert Stone knew where she was. Sloan would trade information on Maria for the return of Ericka Stone. As soon as he could find the elusive girl.

  He was almost finished. Just one more score to settle and he would be free.

  ****

  The sound of shouting and cursing woke Greg from a deep sleep. He’d been dreaming about being at a casino with Ericka. They’d been gambling. Then they left the room, and they were on a playground outside. A boy who looked like Bud ran from equipment piece to equipment piece. Then a little girl ran up to him with her arms open.

  “Papa?”

  “What is it, pumpkin?”

  Was that him answering?

  “Papa, swing me!”

  He’d been just about to give the little girl a high push when the words from outside woke him.

  That made him doubly unhappy.

  He rose from the bed. His stomach had stopped hurting while he rested. That was one thing to be grateful for.

  Shuffling to the window, he thought about going to work. If Marsha Evers wasn’t at the office on the warpath, then he might have gone in. However, now it seemed there was a different issue to contend with.

  A man looking at his jacket in disgust stumbled across the road. Words unfit for little ears, and some big ears, flew from his mouth at an alarming rate.

  A car drove by. In a five-foot wave water sailed through the air and engulfed the man. His arms went into the air. His head went back, and he screamed.

  The deep guttural scream had Greg’s eyes widening.

  The scream continued.

  Greg made himself comfortable against the window frame and pulled his phone out of his pocket. For now, he rotated it in his hand and waited. The gentleman in question was frustrated and wet. Greg could sympathize. But only temporarily.

  The screaming stopped. A cab pulled up to the man and he climbed into the back seat. Left behind, in front of his own house, was a foreign-made sports car.

  Had the man left his car because he was wet?

  The car did have that luxury look. Greg wouldn’t want to ruin his car either if he was in the same situation. But that meant the gentleman would most likely be coming back.

  He’d be returning to Greg’s family neighborhood spouting off words with his foul mouth. And what was he doing here anyway? If he was visiting a friend, he could have asked them for help. No houses were for rent or sale, so he wasn’t scouting those out.

  It was always possible he was a developer looking for land to snatch up, but Greg doubted that. The demeanor and clothing had been all wrong.

  Greg moved to the door and put his feet into his slippers. His mother had gotten them for him for Christmas. At first, he’d balked, but now he was glad for them. The floor was cold during New York winters and the slippers were just enough to keep down the chill.

  Greg opened the door and slipped onto the porch. A look left and right revealed that everyone else was either at work or inside their house. The man screaming must have made them go back inside. He couldn’t blame them.

  The strange car wasn’t parked far from his house. From Ericka’s house.

  Greg cut across to her yard. It didn’t take long to find the impression of footprints. They were beside the bushes and led right up to Ericka’s window then back to the road. The bush was even mangled as if someone had pushed their way through it instead of going through the bushes that were separated a little bit farther away.

  Instead of following the path and disturbing what he now considered a crime scene, he stepped back into his yard and walked across the pavement to the black car. He walked around the vehicle and paused as he reached the trunk and the license plate.

  The plate listed New York as the place of registration, but Greg didn’t believe it. There wasn’t enough rust on the tailpipe. A quick look underneath didn’t reveal any salt residue. Although it was clear the car was well maintained.

  Greg took a picture with his phone of the plate and sent it to Quinn with the words, “Call me when you get time.”

  He returned to the house and waited.

  Hopefully he wouldn’t have to wait long. A surveillance team needed to come to his house ASAP. Someone was watching Ericka and they needed to know who and why.

  ****

  Ericka could feel Bud’s eyes on her from the other room. The conference room was surrounded by glass and Bud kept smushing his face up against it and giggling. Then he’d spin in the chair with his head thrown back. When he rose upward, he would act as if he was about to throw up. Then he would spin again.

  “Do you need to go check on that child, Miss Stone?”

  “Um, what?”

  Marsha Evers rolled her eyes. “Please, pay attention. If you like having a job here, you’ll do as I say.”

  “Of course, sorry.”

  Monica patted Ericka’s arm. “I’ll go look after him. My job is dependent on there being a department.”

  Ericka snuck glances from the corner of her eye. Monica entered the conference room. From behind a chair, she magically pulled out an action figure. Ericka hadn’t even seen it before.

  The idea of there being a daycare in the building had been a bust. As well as getting an appointment with Dr. Ellen. Either of those would have entertained Bud for a little while, but it wasn’t meant to be.

  “Now that I have your attention…” Marsha cleared her throat.

  Ericka promptly moved both her eyes forward.

  “The financials of this unit are deplorable. There are trips all over the country while there should only be expenses in our local area.”

  Everyone in the room stood perfectly still, but Marsha. She moved around the room like a caged lion ready to pounce. Ericka moved back against a wall and propped herself up.

  “I understand the cases that have been solved in other parts of the country all involve, you, Miss Stone.”

  Heat flushed Ericka’s face at Marsha’s direct glare. Ericka held her breath, almost afraid to move.

  “While I applaud the willingness of this group to help other people, the Police Assistance Unit is for New York only. You were created to help with the burden of cases placed on local departments. Only when they need your help are you permitted to step in. From a careful review of the cases conducted in the past year, I can see that less than half the cases have occurred based on special request because of burden.”

  “Does it matter how they came to us? Most of them wouldn’t have been solved without our help.” Director Manis stepped forward. His voice was deep with emotion.

  “I appreciate that thought, but I just don’t believe that to be true. We have the finest police department in the entire world, given enough time, and resources…”

  “That’s just it. We are the resources.” Director Manis had closed the gap between himself and Evers.

  “Director, with all due respect, you are not in charge of my findings.”

  “Of course not.” His face scrunched into a frown.

  Ericka had known they might be in trouble. Everyone had said so. But now she was more worried than ever.

  If the unit shut down, where would she go? More importantly right now where would Bud go? They were his only hope of finding his family.

  Quinn rose from the wall as he glanced at his phone. He put it to his ear and walked out of the room. The seriousness of his face meant something was wrong. She was sure that she would find out soon enough.

  Right now, she needed to at least pretend to listen to Ms. Evers as she complained about Ericka’s stints across America.

  She couldn’t wait until this day was over.

  ****

  “Myers? Hey, Myers, where are you?”

  Eddie’s coffee slipped from his hand and split on his thighs. He gasped. He grabbed a towel from the other chair and patted his pants dry. When he finished, he lifted the radio to his mouth.

  “Myers, go ahead.”

  “We need you to check out Rochelle’s.”

  He groaned. He hated going to that part of town. “What am I looking for?”

  “Something smelly.”

  “Something smelly,” he whispered under his breath.

  “Good luck.”

  The radio went off without proper protocol. Because of the Evers’ investigation into the Police Assistance Unit everyone had been moved around and placed in a different positions. He didn’t know if the powers that be were trying to make them look incompetent to show they needed the PAU or what the plan was, but he knew these new people didn’t know the job.

  He placed his lights on as he drove toward Rochelle’s. He’d never been in the store; it was too pricey for his blood. But he’d heard lots about it. It was the only well-maintained store in its neighborhood. He hoped that wasn’t about to change.

  He stopped the cruiser next to the curb and cut his lights. The weather had been warm then cold, warm then cold. If there was something dead around the place it might have heated up and gave off an odor.

  The glass door opened. Someone with a mask covering his face stepped out, looked left and right, then ran. What appeared to be a wad of clothing was stuffed under his arm. Odors drifted from the closing door and Eddie pinched his nose.

  He’d smelled that scent before. He didn’t even need to enter.

  He lifted the radio to his lips before getting out of the car. “Dispatch, this is officer Eddie Myers requesting the medical examiner and the crime scene investigative unit to come to Rochelle’s Clothing Emporium. I believe we have a dead body on our hands.”

  He hadn’t even bothered with the code for what he’d found. If the person listening didn’t know what they meant what good would it do? He hoped the bluntness made help come quicker.

  Eddie laid back against the hood of the car and waited. This was not the kind of news that he wanted to start his day.

  Chapter Nine

  Quinn was actually excited that Greg called. Leaving the room and getting away from the Evers’ drama was a relief.

  Quinn stepped out of the room with the phone to his ear, but he didn’t answer the call until he was out of earshot. “Boss, what’s up?”

  Greg wasted no time. “I sent you a pic. I need you to run that license plate.”

  Quinn glanced at his phone and pulled up the picture before putting the phone back to his ear. “That looks like it is outside your house.”

  “You’re right, it is outside my house.”

  Quinn kept his gasp to himself as he moved toward the team office and his computer. The things going on behind him were something that he didn’t mind missing. The fact that he might lose his job was nothing compared to the hurt he felt when he thought about losing his friends.

  He sat at his computer desk and began typing on the stiff keys. “I’m running the license plate now.”

  “How is Ms. Evers working out?”

  “Are you trying to be funny?”

  “That good, huh?”

  “She’s pretty much threatening to break apart the department.” Quinn entered the information into the database.

  “I figured as much. She did the same thing when it first started.”

  Quinn didn’t say anything since they’d pretty much had the same conversation earlier. Instead, he watched the screen in front of him. The computer was taking longer to run the plate number than he’d like. He leaned back in the chair with the phone still to his ear.

  A hit popped up. The car tag was registered to an eighty-year-old woman who drove a red, two door, 1980s pickup truck.

  Quinn didn’t ask why while he read over the description of the vehicle. Then he looked at his phone screen again. In the picture that Greg had sent, the vehicle appeared black and like it had a trunk, like a sedan not a truck.

  “You’re quiet. You got something?”

  “Those plates are stolen.”

  “That’s not a surprise.”

  “They belong to a red pickup truck.”

  “How close does that person live to me?”

  Quinn looked up a map and put in the two destinations. “Looks like about six hours away.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, the plates came from Jamestown, New York.” Quinn typed in a question about whether the truck was still in Jamestown. Maybe it had been sold. Maybe it was in a junkyard closer to them. But no such luck.

  “So, someone stole plates from a vehicle in Jamestown, New York, and drove six hours to sit outside my house.”

  It wasn’t a question, more of a statement, but Quinn knew what Greg meant. His brain was working the puzzle.

  “Do you think you could find the VIN number on the car?”

  “I guess I could try. Once I get on some actual clothes.”

  Quinn almost said too much information, but kept his mouth shut on that. “Good. Just send it to me. I’ll see if I can find out who the car is registered to.”

  “Will do. And you keep me posted on Evers. I don’t want to walk into the office tomorrow and be blindsided.”

  “I’ll do my best. After you’ve done that, I think I need a surveillance team over here.”

  Quinn hung up the phone and shut off his computer. He called to ask for a team to go to Greg’s house, but there was no answer. He’d heard people had been moved around while PAU was under investigation. Apparently, they were short staffed as well.

  Hands in his pockets, he strolled back to the main room. The meeting had disbursed. Evers was nowhere in sight, and he let his breath out.

  A look around showed Ericka in the conference room fawning over the kid. Tito hovered behind her. Blake and his team huddled in a corner, except for Burle who seemed to hang back all alone. And then there was Maggie. He’d not had time to talk to her since they got back in town. She’d come after them because of Tristan’s move. He’d heard a few bits and pieces through office gossip that it had been a traumatic experience.

  Maggie ran her hand through her hair and looked around the room until their eyes caught.

  He nodded.

  She nodded.

  He shifted his head toward the hallway.

  She shifted her head as well.

  Then they both started walking toward the office. Seemed like they needed to talk.

  ****

  Maggie couldn’t keep from wringing her hands. They were raw from all the rubbing and twisting. It was a bad habit she’d picked up in high school whenever she was worried.

  Right now, she was worried.

  Marsha Evers.

  That woman was attempting to take everything from them, and she thought it was just an everyday occurrence. Her words should be accepted no matter what.

  Maggie had no doubt that would be the case. She’d seen too many politicians in action. If they thought they could look good in front of their peers, they would be first on the bandwagon to take out any group that was helpful to the community.

  Quinn entered the room. He nodded his head to the side, he motioned with his fingers, all things that indicated he wanted her to come toward him. It was a relief in a certain way. All the people in the room were occupied except her and a few others.

  Even Ericka and Tito. They were busy with that kid. A kid that had no business being there, even if he had no place else to go.

  Maggie had heard Ericka asking about daycare in the building. Maggie already knew the answer, there wasn’t any. She’d heard other moms ask the same thing. If she married Tristan and they had kids, she would need it as well. It might be something the department needed to consider. Something she could suggest.

  Maggie put her hands to her sides as she followed Quinn to their office. She almost felt like a robot. If she kept her legs straight, then she would look like a robot.