Tracking Justice. Shirlee McCoy

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Tracking Justice - Shirlee McCoy Mills & Boon Love Inspired Suspense

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that’s what it takes to find Brady, then, yes.”

      “I can’t go back inside.”

      “You have to, because the longer I have to stand here talking to you, the longer it’s going to take me to get started on the search.”

      “I—”

      “Go inside, Eva.” He cut her off, crouched near Justice and held out Brady’s shirt. “Ready, boy?”

      Justice snuffled the fabric, then bent his long snout to the ground. He circled the area, bypassing Eva, who didn’t seem at all interested in following orders.

      “Do you think he can find Brady’s scent?” she asked.

      “Yes.”

      “Will it lead us to Brady?”

      “Hopefully.”

      “What—”

      “Justice is ready to track. I can’t let him start until you’re inside.”

      His words were like a splash of ice water in Eva’s face.

      Of course, he couldn’t start the search while she stood there asking questions.

      She blinked back hot tears, hating the weakness that made her want to beg and plead and cry. She was strong. She had to be, but she didn’t feel strong. She felt weak and scared, and she wanted to hover around Austin until he promised that he’d bring Brady home to her.

      She pivoted, willing to do anything to have Brady back.

      “Eva,” Detective Black called as she reached the corner of the house.

      “Yes?” She stopped, but she didn’t turn to face him. She didn’t want him to see her despair.

      “I’ll do everything I can to bring Brady home to you.”

      She did turn then, wanting to thank him for the reassurance. The words died as she watched him hold Brady’s little shirt out to the dog.

      Justice huffed out a breath and barked.

      “Seek,” Detective Black commanded, and the bloodhound took off, his handler running along behind him. Across the backyard, into the neighbor’s. Out onto the street beyond.

      She lost sight of them there.

      If she could have, she would have followed them, but she knew she had to go back. Do what she’d been told. Answer dozens of questions that might, if God were willing, bring her son home.

      He certainly hadn’t been willing to bring her parents’ murderer to justice, but she had to believe that this time He’d answer her prayers.

      Please, God. Please.

      She walked around to the front of the house, skirting by several police officers who were standing on the front porch. Three police cars were parked on the curb, another one across the street. One in the driveway. Lots of people, and that had to be a good thing.

      Didn’t it?

      She hoped so, because every minute that passed was a minute that Brady was alone with...

      She cut the thought off. Didn’t want to acknowledge what had been floating around in her head since Detective Black had mentioned the crime at Slade’s house.

      Had Brady seen something?

      He shouldn’t have. He wasn’t allowed to play outside by himself, and Mrs. Daphne didn’t like being outside in the cold. Arthritis, she always said, and who was Eva to say differently? At seventy, Mrs. Daphne deserved to stay inside if it was what she wanted. The rule was, Brady stayed inside with her. A tough one for him to want to follow. He was high energy and active, and he loved being outdoors.

      Had he skirted the rule?

      Snuck outside or convinced Mrs. Daphne to let him go?

      Her house was close enough to Slade’s for Brady to have had a clear view of it from the yard. But could he have seen enough to make him the target of a criminal?

      She didn’t know. Didn’t even want to speculate. All she wanted was her son.

      She walked back inside, tried to return the smile that Slade offered. “Do you have some questions for me? Because if you don’t—”

      “I do. Officer Cunningham is working with the evidence team, and I’ll be conducting the interview. This should only take a few minutes.”

      “All right.” She sat on the edge of the couch, her body trembling and cold.

      “Was Brady with Mrs. Daphne today?”

      “Yes.”

      “What time did you pick him up?”

      “Six.”

      “Did he mention anything unusual about his day? Anything that concerned you or him?”

      “Nothing. He did seem...quiet.” She knew where the conversation was heading, and she took a deep breath, tried to relax.

      He narrowed his eyes. “You heard what happened at my house yesterday afternoon?”

      “Yes. Detective Black told me.”

      “Then you know that my father was attacked and Rio was stolen. Do you think it’s possible that Brady saw what happened?”

      “He didn’t mention it, but I guess anything is possible.”

      Slade jotted something in a notebook, asked another question and another.

      Eva answered all of them as best she could. She couldn’t collapse, couldn’t let herself give in to the emotions that beat like bat wings in her stomach. She wanted to, though. Almost wished she had someone to lean on. Someone who could put an arm around her shoulder and tell her everything would be all right. There was no one. She wasn’t sure there ever had been.

      The clock on the fireplace mantel ticked the time away. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.

      Nearly an hour since Eva had realized Brady was gone.

      An hour that he’d been missing. An hour that he’d been terrified, cold. Hungry, because he always was.

      She wiped clammy hands on her pajama pants, swallowed down bile. “Are we almost done, Slade?”

      “I just have a few more questions to ask.”

      “I’ve already answered dozens, and I’ve answered some of them more than once.”

      “We have to be thorough, Eva. It’s the only way to get your son back.”

      “The only way to get my son back is to go out and look for him. That’s what I’m going to do.” She stood, her legs shaky. “Where’s Detective

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