The Shark (Forgotten Files Book 1) (5 page)

“How much is he grumbling?”

“Said Satan invented numbers to torture humans.”

She arched a brow. “That bad?” His bark was worse than his bite.

Hanna shook her head. “It’s the worst I’ve seen him in a while.”

“Must be quarterly taxes. He hates those. What time do you get off today?”

“Six.”

“How are the applications going?”

“Slow.” She grimaced. “They want me to write all these essays about my life, but each time I do, it sounds all wrong.”

“Why wrong?”

A shrug of her shoulders telegraphed worry, not apathy. “Not the most impressive background. Not exactly college material. And then when I add up the cost. You won’t be getting a check from the state once the adoption papers are finalized.”

“You write about your life and don’t worry about if it fits the mold. Anyone can fit into a mold. And when you get accepted into a college, we’ll figure out the money.”

“It’s overwhelming.”

To say it was happily ever after once Hanna moved in would be inaccurate. The first months were rough, and if not for Cooper’s endless affection, she wasn’t sure the kid would have stuck around. Riley had introduced Hanna to Duke and asked him if she could have a summer job. Riley wanted the kid busy while she was at work. He agreed and his wife, Maria, also offered Hanna a bed in their house when Riley worked nights. Theirs wasn’t a perfect, model family, but it worked; they were doing okay.

Riley winked and rapped her knuckles on the counter. “Remember, one step at a time.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It is. Really.” She did her best to make it look easy, but the truth was, she didn’t know exactly where the money for Hanna’s college would come from. She said she’d find a way, and she already figured she’d pick up part-time work after the girl started courses.

Riley left Hanna and wound her way through the thirty-plus tables, waving to a couple of the waitresses. Most were from the streets, and they lived at the shelter Duke ran down the street in a six-bedroom house he’d bought and renovated fifteen years ago. The shelter could house up to a dozen girls, and while they lived in his place, Duke gave them a job as they pieced their lives together. Some kids returned to the streets, but quite a few had gone on to finish high school and college.

Pushing through a set of swinging saloon doors and ignoring the “Employees Only” sign, she moved along the dim hallway to the door at the end of the hall on the left. She stopped at the threshold and saw the gray-haired man stooped over a set of books. He wore a black T-shirt that accentuated muscled arms covered in tattoos. She heard the tattoos extended across his back and over his chest.

Duke Spence was frowning as he cradled a cell phone close. He muttered a curse, hung up, and tossed the phone on his desk.

“Your face is going to stick if you keep scowling,” she said as she leaned against the door frame and folded her arms.

Duke glanced up, tugging off half glasses, and tossed her one of his easy trademark grins. He was in his early sixties but kept himself in great shape by working out daily. His jeans were well worn but clean, and his biker boots finished off the look of a guy who had done more than could be confessed to in an afternoon.

He tipped back in his chair. “Well, ain’t you official looking, Trooper Tatum. You giving those boys a run for their money?”

“Like you always said, fake it until you make it.”

“You’ve nothing to fake, kid. You’re smart as a whip and one day will be an investigator solving crimes faster than any of them. Don’t let ’em rattle you.”

“I’m never rattled.” She pulled her cell from her back pocket and brought up the victim’s photo. “I have a question for you about a case.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you know this girl? I saw her at one of the truck stops a couple of weeks ago.”

Duke’s chair squeaked as he rose and straightened to his full six-foot-one-inch frame. He slid his glasses back on. “That kind of question from a cop can’t be good.”

“It’s not.” She handed him the phone.

He took the phone in weathered hands and blew up the image. “She’s dead?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty.”

“And young.”

Shaking his head, he handed the phone back to her. “I haven’t seen her around the shelter.”

“You sure?”

“Face is not familiar. And if she was on the streets, it doesn’t look like she was on her own for very long.”

“That’s what I was thinking. She has a tattoo on the back of her neck.
JC.
Likely she’s one of Jax Carter’s girls.”

“I’ve heard about Carter’s arrest and saw the video of him beating that girl on the web. Sorry to hear she was mixed up with him.”

“What have you heard?”

“He and his girlfriend, Darla Johnson, are new to the area. They’ve been around here a couple of times trying to talk to the kids, but I chased ’em off. Told him I’d bust his knees if he came back.”

She didn’t doubt it. “I pulled his record and hers. They’ve been running girls for years across the country but stay on the move.”

He snapped his fingers. “Darla Johnson is from this area, I think. She can be a real charmer. You looking for her, too?”

“Not officially, but if I come across her, I’ll have questions.”

“I hope he rots in jail.”

“It would be nice.”

“How’s the kid he worked over?”

“She’s still unconscious. I have a few days off starting tomorrow. I’ll swing by and see her as soon as she can have visitors.”

“There’s always a bed for her at the youth shelter if she wants it.”

“Thanks.”

Duke stared at the picture on her phone. “This one reminds me a little of you.”

That was the second time today she’d been linked with the victim. “The victim had one of your pamphlets in her backpack.”

“We deal with so many kids. I can’t keep track of them all anymore.” Frown lines deepened around his eyes. “How long has she been dead?”

“Rough estimate is a day.”

He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “So Carter is off the hook?”

“So far. Would help if I knew the victim’s name.”

“If you can get me a hard copy of that photo, I’ll ask around.”

“Great. Thanks.” She tucked the phone back in her pocket. Duke and his wife regularly visited the truck stops, bus stations, and street corners to hand out flyers to kids who looked as if they might need a place to stay.

“I wish I had more information for you.”

“It was worth a shot.”

He yanked off his glasses as if he’d seen too much. “How did she die?”

“The cops haven’t released any details to the media yet so keep this under your hat.”

“You know me, I’m a vault.”

“She was strangled.”

He winced. “Was she sexually assaulted?”

“Her clothes were intact but that doesn’t mean much. I’d like to observe the autopsy and find out the answer to that question, but that will depend on who gets the case.”

“If the powers that be are smart, they’ll keep you in the loop. You always were a sharp kid.”

“I thought you said I had rocks in my head.”

A smile tweaked the edges of his lips. “Let’s say you can be stubborn when you get an idea in your head.” His expression hardened. “You could have ended up like that kid, but you wanted to get ahead and never gave up.”

“Who’s to say how long I could have kept it going if not for you and the shelter?”

Duke knocked on his wooden desk, an old gambling trick to get Lady Luck’s attention. “You’re a tough nut.”

She considered asking him about the cards, but hesitated. Duke had made and lost his first, second, and third fortunes as a professional gambler in his younger days. He often said he’d still be at the tables if not for divine intervention. And then he’d met Maria, who hated the idea of the tables.

But it wasn’t smart to share a key detail like the cards with anyone at this stage. “Hopefully, I’ll have updates soon.”

She waved her hand and left, taking a moment to check in with Hanna. “Straight home from here and homework, right?”

Hanna saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

Hanna, who had little structure in her life, had taken to Riley’s house rules like a duck to water. For the first time in her life, someone cared about her, and she liked it. Once, early on, she tested Riley’s resolve and did not come home. Riley had tracked the kid to a boy’s house. Dressed in full uniform with Cooper at her side, she immediately had spotted Hanna in the crowd of drunken teens. What saved Hanna’s ass was that she hadn’t been drunk or high and she looked overwhelmed by the scene. The kid had been in over her head and didn’t know how to get out and save face. Riley had given her a choice right there in front of the room full of people. Follow the rules or pack up her shit and get out of Riley’s house. A sullen Hanna had followed Riley out of the party.

And now, the two of them had forged a kind of family that worked, and she would not let anything from the past ruin it. Hanna would be leaving for college next summer. The kid needed to build her own life, but Riley already knew she’d miss Hanna being around the house.

As Riley slid behind the wheel of her SUV and glanced at a sleeping Cooper in the rearview mirror, her phone buzzed. The display read Agent Dakota Sharp’s name. He was four or five years older than her, and they’d gone through the police academy together. “Trooper Tatum.”

“Where are you?” The deep southern drawl leaked over the line. He was tall, a mountain of a man who smiled little and was terrible at small talk. But he was one of the best investigators in the mid-Atlantic.

“I’m in Ashland.”

“I spoke to Barrett,” Sharp said. “Virginia State Police is now officially assisting the sheriff’s office with the investigation.”

“Good.” To the media, the sheriff’s office would take center stage, but behind the scenes, state police would actually handle the bulk of the investigation.

“I’ve spoken to Martin. He says you think Jax Carter is connected to the killing.”

“His initials are tattooed on her body.”

“He has an alibi for last night,” Sharp said.

“Carter has a girlfriend, Darla Johnson. I’m not sure where she was last night, but you should talk to her.”

A pause. “Okay. I’ll run her name and see what pops. I’m on my way to the hospital to talk to Carter. Care to join me?”

“You bet I would.”

“Thought you might like to see this case through. That big arrest in the woods earned you the right.”

“I’d like that.”

“The medical examiner has our Jane Doe on deck for tomorrow morning at ten. You can observe if you have time.”

“I have time off. That works well.”

“Good. I’m headed to the hospital. See you soon.”

“Will do.” She rang off and checked her watch. There was still time to drop Cooper off at home.

She swung by her house, a small one-level brick rancher, which she’d painted white last year. She did a good job of keeping the yard cut and edged. However, the flower garden Hanna had wanted to plant before the social services visit had died within weeks because both forgot to water it.

She’d bought the house six years ago, scraping together the financing by working extra patrol shifts and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The place barely took up fifteen hundred square feet, and it still needed work on the bathrooms and kitchen. Before Hanna, there’d been some money for extra projects. Now the best she could afford was a rewire of a secondhand lamp. The rest would have to wait until, well, until the kid was out of college.

After a quick walk with the dog, she opened the front door and let Cooper pass. Inside, a bedroom on the right and one on the left flanked a large family room furnished with pieces she’d found at flea markets and hand-me-downs from Duke. Not high design but clean and functional.

Cooper padded across the hardwood floor into the kitchen, and she opened his crate. He drank water from his bowl, then settled on his blankets with his chew toys.

The kitchen was retro with a black-and-white-checkered floor, white appliances, and a Formica countertop. The cabinets were original to the house, though she’d updated them with a coat of white paint and new hinges and pulls. The kitchen was in need of a redo, but like everything else that was serviceable, it would have to wait.

“I’ll be back soon, Cooper.”

The dog closed his eyes.

She texted Hanna, asking her to walk him when she arrived home, and headed south to Richmond and the state university hospital located in the city center. She parked and found her way to the lockdown floor where the prisoners were housed. Nurses checked her badge and credentials, and she was escorted through a set of locked doors to wait outside a room.

She heard the blare of a television broadcasting a game show coming from inside. Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, and she turned to see Agent Sharp approaching. Hair cropped short, he wore a simple black suit, white shirt, red tie, and his badge clipped to a belt that circled a fit waist. He carried a black vinyl notepad holder in his right hand, and with each long stride, his jacket billowed enough to offer glimpses of his sidearm.

“Trooper. Thanks for meeting me.”

“Thanks for the invite.”

Not bothering to knock on the hospital door, he entered the room. She followed.

Carter lay in a large bed, his right hand cuffed to the metal railing. He wore a hospital gown, and in front of him was a lunch tray consisting of what looked like meatloaf, mashed potatoes, bread, and cake.

He was about to shove a spoonful of potatoes in his mouth when he saw them. “If it isn’t Trooper Tatum. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Agent Sharp with the Virginia State Police, Mr. Carter.”

Sharp’s gaze wandered from the food to the television. “It looks like they’re treating you well.”

Carter dropped the spoon back on his plate. “Not my idea of fun, but it beats hugging a tree all night.”

So he was sticking with his story about his night on the mountain.

“I hear you have a court date in a couple of days,” Sharp said.

Carter grinned, a gold tooth winking in the fluorescent light. “So they tell me.” He leaned back, staring at Riley. “Did you miss me, Trooper Tatum?”