Tracy Hayes, P.I. to the Rescue (P.I. Tracy Hayes 3) Read online

  “I thought I’d have to come and fetch you again,” he said with a smile when I got out of the car. “You’re late.”

  “Yeah, well, it took me longer than I thought to get into these pants.”

  He looked at my legs and blinked. “Time well spent.”

  I had to agree.

  We walked briskly the one block to the park, where he took me through paces of running and walking in intervals to build up my stamina. I was really in poor shape, worse now than a month ago when we first tried this, after my weeks of immobility.

  “How’s your knee?” Jackson asked at some point.

  “Not bad. But it did leave a scar.” It had actually begun to ache, but I’d bitched all throughout our run and was fairly sure he’d be immune to my complaints by now, so I didn’t mention it.

  When he’d tortured me enough, he walked me back to my car. I didn’t need the escort, but it was nice of him, especially since he would return to the park for his proper run right away.

  “So…” I started, dying of curiosity, “how did your date go last night?”

  “I didn’t go.”

  I paused, stunned. “You stood her up?”

  “I called her and cancelled.”

  “But … why?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t feel like going.”

  “Didn’t feel like? What’s wrong with you?”

  He frowned. “It was a long day and I wanted to stay home.”

  “Was it because I pestered you about the shirt?”

  “No,” he huffed. “I’m a grown man and can decide what I wear myself.”

  “Emily isn’t the kind of woman to take these things lightly. She might not want to go out with you anymore.”

  “I’ll live.”

  “Not your great love?”

  “Hardly.”

  I found I wasn’t terribly disappointed hearing it. “I’ve never asked you if there’s a great love in your past.”

  “Yes you have. I just haven’t answered.” Then he grinned. “No, I haven’t been married, or in a relationship long enough to merit a mention. I’m not nurturing an eternally broken heart—unlike some people I could mention—nor do I have secret children somewhere. Although I did have a scare with a girl I dated in high school.” He shook his head. “The person I was then wouldn’t have made a good father.”

  “And now?”

  I managed to stun him. “I haven’t really thought of children.”

  “I think you’d make a great father, the way you’re always looking after me.”

  “You do need extra attention,” he said with emphasis.

  “A-ha! You were cruising Brownsville yesterday looking for me, weren’t you?”

  “No comment.” He opened my car door for me and ushered me in. “I’ll see you at the office.”

  He was about to close the door when a large black SUV drove past us. The driver lifted his hand in greeting and Jackson did the same. I kept my hands tightly around the steering wheel.

  “Do I need to hold you here to give Scott a head start?” he asked. The reason Jackson had caught me tailing Scott was because they lived on the same street, only a couple of houses between them.

  “Very funny. It was a one-time madness.”

  But just in case I waited until Jackson had disappeared down the street for his proper jog, before starting the car and driving home. By then, Scott was nowhere to be seen.

  That I’d needed to restrain myself even that much aggravated me the entire drive.

  Rhonda was waiting for me at the agency with Cheryl when I arrived there at nine. My new hair was an immediate success with them. I’d spent some extra time after showering to make it obey me and it looked pretty nice.

  “I love that color,” Rhonda said, admiring my do. “Where did you have it done? Maybe I’ll try the same.” Turned out she was familiar with Shakeia already, so her cornrows might change into a cherry red do in no time. The greetings done, she wanted to know what we’d done to find Deanna.

  “I wish I had better news,” I sighed, taking a mug of coffee Cheryl had ready. “But now Alysha, her best friend, has gone missing too. And it turns out they’ve been skipping school together.”

  “Not our Deanna!”

  “Jaden and Kayla, and her principal told me the same thing. But they had no idea where she would go. Did you grow up there? Do you have any idea where kids spend their days when they’re not at school?” I already knew about the garage, but there could be other places, especially since Deanna wasn’t into bikes.

  Rhonda shook her head. “I can ask around if you like.”

  “Do you know if she had a boyfriend?”

  “You mean she could be with him? But what reason would she have for running away like that?”

  “I really don’t know.” I didn’t want to mention the drugs yet. No reason to worry her. “If Alysha had disappeared at the same time, I’d have said she was the one running away and Deanna was just company for her, but now I have no idea.”

  “You don’t think she’d be pregnant and afraid to come home, do you?”

  It hadn’t even occurred to me, mainly because I hadn’t thought a fourteen year old would have sex—I hadn’t—but now I shrugged.

  “It’s a possibility. Is there a place where a girl would go if she wanted the matter taken care of in secret?”

  “She wouldn’t have an abortion!”

  Rhonda was so horrified I thought it best not to mention it again. After some assurances that we would do our best to find Deanna, she left, leaving Cheryl and me look grimly at each other.

  “What did you leave out?”

  I didn’t wonder Cheryl had picked it up. She’d worked here for a long time. “Alysha’s boyfriend may be involved in drugs. Maybe he’s mixed the girls in it too.”

  “Oh, no.”

  I told her what we’d done the previous day, including walking smack into the middle of the drug bust. Jackson arrived just as I was describing Detective Lawrence and he grinned at Cheryl.

  “You should’ve seen Tracy stare at the man, as if he was made of chocolate.”

  “I think he was,” I countered. Pity I couldn’t tell Rhonda about him—at least not until we found the girls.

  “And how did your big date go last night?” Cheryl asked Jackson. He was already heading into his office and didn’t answer. She shot a questioning glance at me and I leaned conspiratorially closer.

  “He cancelled.”

  She looked as stunned as I’d felt. “Why?”

  “I think it had something to do with his shirt being ruined and not wanting to go shopping again.” I said it loud enough for Jackson to hear and wasn’t disappointed when he yelled from his office:

  “It had nothing to do with the shirt.”

  Cheryl shook her head. “Well, there are other women in the world.”

  “But how many are willing to watch the same black T-shirt day after day.”

  Laughing with Cheryl, I took my seat on the couch with Misty and we started the day.

  Chapter Eleven

  When I began my career as a P.I., I’d imagined spending my days skulking in bushes, photographing cheating spouses, but a lot of the work was actually done by computers, searching for financial and other records, addresses, known aliases, and newspaper articles, or just checking what people posted online. You’d be surprised how careless people were with their personal information. I’d learned quite a lot from Jarod, who could pull up stuff you wouldn’t even believe from people’s private accounts—though not necessarily legally, so he wouldn’t teach me.

  We spent the morning researching for our ongoing cases. It was all fairly ordinary stuff—cheating spouses included—but there was an interesting case too about online harassment. We might have to ask for Jarod’s help with that one eventually, because we couldn’t crack it with the technical skills we had.

  I sat on the couch, my feet propped up on the coffee table, a laptop on my lap, a cup of coffee by my right hand, and a
warm dog leaning against my left leg, snoozing. Life was pretty darn good, especially compared to working as a waitress, standing on my feet ten hours a day, eating if I had time and getting yelled at by customers—and by my bosses.

  Well, Jackson yelled at me too, but usually only when he was worried for me.

  A couple of hours flew by before I even noticed and soon it was lunchtime. That was another favorite of my new life: eating while sitting down. I started planning where I’d have lunch at least an hour before. It was part of the fun.

  Just when I thought nothing could ruin my good mood, something did. Scott showed up.

  The door to reception was open, as it usually was if we didn’t have clients, because Misty tended to become upset if she couldn’t come and go freely. He had a clear view into the inner sanctum the moment he walked into the reception, making it impossible to hide.

  That didn’t mean I wouldn’t try.

  I leaned down to look under the couch, contemplating the possibility of hiding there. The space was too small—and dusty—but before I could think of another place to flee, Scott was already past Cheryl—the traitor—and knocking on the doorframe of our office.

  At thirty-four, he still had the bad boy rocker vibe going for him, even though the band had broken up ages ago and he was now a fulltime business owner. His faded blue jeans hung low on his slim hips, and despite the cooler weather he was only wearing a green T-shirt with his bar’s logo on it, which showed off his tight upper body and sinewy arms. His dark blond hair was a fashionably shaggy mop and there was light stubble on his chin. The only thing missing was his guitar, which I knew he still played.

  The smile he flashed shot straight to my good place—the traitor.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  Since we were both silently bent over our computers, the question was stupid, but I heroically refrained from rolling my eyes. Jackson—the traitor—smiled.

  “Not at all, come on in.” And like always with clients he rounded his desk to shake Scott’s hand before showing him to a chair in front of his desk. He went to close the door to reception, so he clearly thought Scott was here on business.

  Scott glanced at me as he sat down and his brows shot up. “Is that a new hairdo?”

  I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t that heroic.

  “No, it’s always been like this.”

  “It’s nice.”

  I ignored the compliment.

  Misty—the traitor—jumped down from the couch and went to make his acquaintance, wagging her tail so hard that her entire body shook when he leaned over to scratch her head. Then he spoke to Jackson, ignoring me. I’d been about to ignore him too, so there.

  “I’m in need of your professional services.”

  My first reaction was to say no, but Jackson shot me a quelling glance as I inhaled in preparation to answering. It was as if he knew me or something.

  “What sort of help do you need?” he asked.

  Please let his wife be cheating on him.

  Two pairs of eyes, blue and brown, turned to stare at me.

  “What? Did I say it aloud?”

  Jackson’s dimple appeared again, but Scott sneered. “Of course she isn’t cheating on me.” He all but spread his arms, as if asking who would cheat on this gorgeousness.

  “You never believe your spouse is capable of cheating on you until you find his bare ass between the legs of a strange woman.”

  He frowned. “One mistake and you’re holding it against me the rest of my life?”

  “Your only mistake was not locking the door. Everything else was intentional.”

  “Shouldn’t you be over it by now?”

  His flip remark ignited a deep anger. “You don’t get to tell me how much or how long it hurts to have someone I loved destroy everything I believed in.”

  Jackson cleared his throat. “If we could get back to business? You two can sort out your failed marriage later.”

  “It would be sorted out just fine if he would stay away from me.” I crossed my arms over my chest in a huff.

  “You’re the one who keeps coming to my bar,” Scott huffed.

  “Not voluntarily.” Usually it was Trevor who made me go there, because it was close to his precinct—and to desensitize me to Scott. It hadn’t worked so far.

  “Tracy, just let Scott tell us what he came here for.” Jackson used his ‘be reasonable’ voice, which I didn’t much like, so I crossed my arms over my chest and slumped on the sofa, petulant.

  “Fine.”

  Scott ran fingers through his hair, gathering his thoughts. I sulked. “I think one of my employees is stealing money from me.”

  “How?” Jackson asked.

  “Directly from the cash register.”

  “Has it been going on for long?”

  “I’m not entirely sure, but I became aware of it a month ago.”

  “A month?” I exclaimed, unable to keep my mouth shut. “And you’re acting only now?”

  Scott looked like he thought it was perfectly natural to do so. “I didn’t have any proof.”

  “Did you at least confront your employees about it?” I asked, incredulous.

  “No, I didn’t want to cause strife.”

  I huffed. “That should be the first thing you do. You gather your workers and tell them you’ve noticed that money has been disappearing and if the guilty person would come forward you won’t press charges.” I’d been a waitress for a long time. His problem wasn’t exactly unique.

  “And they’d just confess?” Scott said, mocking, but since I thought he was the stupid one here, I ignored the tone.

  “Probably not, but at least the thief would be aware that you’re onto them and might stop. Problem solved.”

  “Or it would cause me to lose my employees.”

  “It’s not as if there aren’t hundreds of capable waiters out there looking for a job. But, again, problem solved.” I curbed my annoyance—with effort. “Look, I’ve been there. I used to work in this restaurant where money started disappearing. The owner would yell at us once a week about it and then fire someone at random when the yelling didn’t help.”

  “And how did he solve the matter in the end?” Jackson asked, professionally curious, which helped with my temper. “Or were you a victim of random firing?”

  “Luckily not.” Although I had resigned soon after the thief was caught, for personal reasons—i.e. I couldn’t stand the boss. “He installed a camera to monitor the cash register. We all knew it was there, so the basic idea was to prevent us from stealing.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Sort of. Turned out it wasn’t any of us. It was the owner’s daughter, who knew nothing about the camera. She was caught red-handed.” I sneered at Scott. “Are you sure it’s not your wife stealing?”

  “What the fuck would she do that for?”

  “I don’t know. Have you cut her allowance recently?” His wife was a Barbie clone who didn’t look intelligent enough to grasp the concept of not taking money straight out of the register. “Maybe her daddy let her do it.” It had been her father’s bar before.

  “You know nothing about Nicole,” Scott growled, but I wasn’t done taunting him.

  “Are you sure she hasn’t picked up any new expensive habits lately?”

  “Maybe one of your employees has picked up an expensive habit?” Jackson cut in. “What did your former boss’s daughter need the extra cash for?”

  “Drugs.” Jackson and I exchanged a pregnant glance.

  Scott shook his head, irritated. “My wife is not doing drugs. And nor are any of my employees.”

  “Gambling, then? Have any of them changed their behavior recently?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Some boss you are,” I said, but Jackson shot me another quelling glance.

  “Well, Tracy’s advice is solid. You let your employees know that you’ve noticed the money going missing and tell them you’ll install the camera. Maybe the problem will go away on its
own. Or you’ll catch the thief in action.”

  “Where do I get such a camera?”

  Jackson promised him he’d come and install one if needed and Scott got up to take his leave. At the door he turned back and spoke to me, a sincere look in his blue eyes.

  “It truly was only that one time.”

  Yeah, right. But before I had a chance to say anything, he was out the door.

  Cheryl came into the office, her eyes large with curiosity. “Was that your ex-husband?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wowsy.”

  Yeah.

  Chapter Twelve

  A long lunch with Cheryl—but not with Jackson—bashing Scott—the reason Jackson refused to come with us—calmed me down. I could even accompany Jackson on a shopping trip later to East Brooklyn to buy the cameras for Scott from a store specializing in security equipment without making unnecessary comments. I had less than fond memories of that shop too, as I’d been bowled over by a fugitive there on my first day working for Jackson, so it was especially magnanimous of me.

  Since we were already near Brownsville, I thought to take advantage of it. “I want to go look for Deanna and Alysha again,” I said to Jackson as we exited the shop.

  “What did you have in mind? You can’t just randomly drive around and hope you’ll run into them.”

  “Why not? Didn’t you do that yesterday?”

  “I wasn’t looking for you,” he said, but the tops of his ears turned slightly red.

  “Right…”

  “Well, you should’ve answered your phone. So what did you think to do?”

  “I’m going to talk to Carlos.”

  Jackson grinned. “Hankering after that ride?”

  “Not even a little,” I said, shuddering. “But maybe he knows JT and is more willing to talk about him than the people at the biker garage.”

  “Maybe he knows about the drugs too.”

  My heart fell. “I hope he isn’t involved in that.”

  “You can’t get attached to every kid you encounter,” he said, shaking his head.

  “He’s the first one.”