to win the title. Of course, that was before an underrated southpaw with a brutal left hook had destroyed his eye and ended his career at age twenty-eight with one punch.
After flailing about for a while, Ray found policing and worked his way up to become one of the most highly regarded Missing Persons investigators in the department. And with Brody’s imminent retirement, he was in line to take over his position in Robbery-Homicide.
Keri glanced out at the distant hills, wondering what their status would be in six months, when they were no longer partners or even in the same unit. She pushed the thought away, unwilling to imagine life without the one steadying influence in her life since Evie was taken.
Suddenly she sensed she was being watched. She glanced down and saw that Ray was awake, quietly staring at her.
“How’s it going, Smurfette?” he asked playfully. They loved teasing each other about their dramatic size difference.
“Okay, how are you feeling today, Shrek?”
“A little tired, to be honest. I had a big workout a while ago. I walked all the way down the hallway and back. Look out, LeBron James, I’m on your heels.”
“Did they give you a timetable for when they’re letting you out?” she asked.
“They said maybe end of the week, if things keep progressing. Then it will be two weeks of bed rest at home. If that goes well, I’ll be allowed to assume desk duty on a limited basis. Assuming I haven’t shot myself from boredom before then.”
Keri sat quietly for a moment, mulling over how to continue. Part of her wanted to tell Ray to take it slow, not to push too hard to get back to work. Of course, saying that would be hypocritical, as that was exactly what she’d done. And she knew he’d call her on it.
But he had been shot while helping save her life. She felt responsible. She felt protective of him. And she felt other things she wasn’t quite prepared to think about at the moment.
Ultimately, she decided that giving him a distraction to focus on might be a better way to go than lecturing him.
“Along those lines, I could use your help with a case I just landed. You willing to mix in a little analysis with your Jell-O?” she asked.
“First of all, congrats on getting back on field duty. Second, how about we skip the Jell-O and go straight to the case?”
“Okay. Here are the basics. Kendra Burlingame, Beverly Hills socialite wife of a successful plastic surgeon, hasn’t been heard from since yesterday morning—”
“What was yesterday again?” Ray interrupted. “The pain meds have me a little loopy when it comes to, you know, days of the week.”
“Yesterday was Monday, Sherlock,” Keri said snarkily. “Her husband says he last saw her at six forty-five a.m. before he went to San Diego to supervise a surgery. It’s currently two forty on Tuesday afternoon, so that’s about thirty-two hours missing.”
“Assuming the husband’s telling the truth. You know the first rule when it comes to missing wives—the husband did it.”
Keri was annoyed that everyone, including her seemingly enlightened partner, seemed to constantly remind her of that. When she responded, she couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“Really, Ray, is that the first rule? Let me write that one down because this is the first time I’ve heard it. Any other pearls of wisdom you care to offer, oh wise one? Maybe that the sun is hot? Or that kale tastes like aluminum foil?”
“I’m just saying—”
“Believe me, Ray, I know. And the guy is currently suspect number one. But she could have just run off too. I think that as a law enforcement professional, it might be worthwhile pursuing other leads, don’t you?”
“I do. That way, you have a leg to stand on when you arrest him.”
“Nice to see you using your keen investigative skills rather than just jumping to unfounded conclusions,” Keri said mockingly, trying not to smile.
“That’s how I roll. So what’s next on the agenda?”
“I’m going to see Kendra’s best friend when I leave here. Her place is just around the corner. The husband said Kendra was acting funny after the two of them returned from a high school reunion.”
“Is anyone checking on the doctor’s trip to San Diego?”
“Brody’s headed down there now.”
“You got partnered with Frank Brody on this?” Ray said, trying not to laugh. “No wonder you’d rather spend time with an invalid. How’s that going?”
“Why do you think I didn’t object when he offered to go to San Diego? The local guys down there could have just as easily followed up but he insisted and I figured it would keep him and his maroon atrocity of a car out of my way for a while. Besides, I’d rather spend time in the company of a worn-out, weak-muscled, bed-ridden sad sack like yourself than Brody any day.”
All the banter had lulled Keri into a sense of comfort and she realized, too late, that her last comment had sent them right back to the awkward place. Ray was silent for a moment, then opened his mouth to speak but Keri got there first.
“Anyway, I should be heading out. I was supposed to be meeting Kendra’s friend right about now. I’ll check in with you later. Take it slow, okay?”
She left without waiting for a response. As she rushed down the hall to catch the elevator, she kept repeating one word over and over again.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
CHAPTER SIX
Still feeling flushed with embarrassment, Keri drove the short distance to Becky Sampson’s house. She caught sight of her blushing face in the rearview mirror and looked away quickly, trying to think of anything other than how she’d left things with Ray. It occurred to her that she’d rushed out so quickly, she forgot to tell him about the anonymous call regarding Evie and her trip to the abandoned warehouse.
This case, Keri. Keep your mind on this case.
She considered calling Detective Kevin Edgerton, the tech expert who was tracing Kendra’s last known GPS location, to see if he’d had any luck.
Part of her was annoyed that having Edgerton work on this was taking him away from trying to break the code on Alan Pachanga’s laptop. Again, frustration coursed through her as she remembered how they had initially thought they’d accessed an entire network of abductors, only to hit wall after wall.
Keri was certain that the cipher she needed was somewhere in the files of Pachanga’s lawyer, Jackson Cave. She resolved that she was going to pay Cave a visit today, case or not.
As she made that pledge, she pulled up to Becky Sampson’s place.
Time to set Cave aside for now. Kendra Burlingame needs my help. Stay focused.
She got out of her car and took in the neighborhood as she walked up to the main door of the apartment complex. Becky Sampson lived in a three-story Tudor-style building. The entire street, North Stanley Drive, was lined with similarly faux-ornate complexes.
This
