Gail Barrett - Fatal Exposure

Jamie shot him a startled glance, as if she’d forgotten he was there. Then she quickly sized him up, her gaze far too worldly for her tender years. Parker curled his lip, revolted at the thought of the depravity this girl endured.

She reached up and snatched the bill. It disappeared into her blouse. “All right.”

“We’ll come back tomorrow afternoon,” Brynn said. “Does that give you enough time to find her and ask?”

Polishing off her burger, Jamie let out a muffled grunt. Then she turned her attention to her milkshake, sucking furiously on the straw.

Catching his eye, Brynn motioned for him to wait. She opened a side pocket on her backpack and pulled out a business card. “Listen, Jamie. A friend of mine runs this shelter for girls in D.C. Always Home. We’d like to take you there.”

“I don’t need help.”

“It’s a safe place. She has beds, food...” When the girl didn’t answer, she sighed. “Keep the card anyway, in case you change your mind. She’ll even send someone to pick you up. And if you don’t need it, you might know someone who does.”

Jamie took the card with a shrug. She slipped it into her pocket, then continued drinking her shake.

Turning, Brynn signaled for them to leave. Realizing the girl would only come back if he tried to evict her, Parker decided to forget it and led the way down the stairs. “Any chance she was telling the truth?” he asked when they’d reached the alley again.

Brynn swung her knapsack onto her shoulder and made a face. “I don’t know. Maybe. You never know with an addict.”

He slanted her a glance as they started walking toward the corner, their feet crunching over broken glass. The sun dipping behind the buildings added shimmers to her fiery hair, enveloping her in a glow. “You seem to know a lot about drug addicts.”

“I wasn’t a user, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve just dealt with them on the streets.”

Which once again brought up the question—why had she fled her home? Before their partnership ended, he was going to learn what made this woman tick.

“Is that how you met my brother?” he asked instead. “On the streets?”

She nodded. “A guy was hassling us. Tommy intervened.”

“Us?”

She squinted into the waning sunshine. A car rumbled past on the nearby street, the deep drum of its subwoofers vibrating his chest.

“Two girls I knew,” she finally said. “We hung out together near the Inner Harbor. Tommy became our protector. He watched out for us when he could.”

“You’re saying he helped you?”

She came to a stop. Tilting back her head, she met his eyes. “Why are you so surprised? He was a good guy, Parker. He had problems, and he made plenty of mistakes, but he was still a good man at heart. You should be proud.”

Proud? Parker shook his head, trying to reconcile this version of his brother with the defiant teenager who’d run away from home. “I don’t know. He’d changed so much toward the end. I hardly knew him anymore.”

“That was the drugs. Addicts become obsessed. If you threaten their addiction, they lash out. But he admired you, Parker. He mentioned you sometimes.”

His heart wobbled hard. He struggled to draw a breath, his chest suddenly too tight. The year after his father died had been pure hell—coping with his father’s treachery, dealing with Tommy’s addiction. All they’d done was fight. He’d figured that Tommy despised him, that he’d lumped him in with his father, considering the accusations he’d hurled his way.

“Helping a runaway isn’t easy.” Her voice was gentler now. “You can only do so much. After that, it’s up to them.”

Still grappling with his emotions, he met her eyes. And despite his vow to keep his distance, her understanding reeled him in. Tempting. Soothing. Making him ache to pull her closer and bask in her healing warmth.

Making him realize exactly how many years he’d felt alone.

His cell phone chimed. Returning to reality, he struggled to clear his head. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he stay objective around Brynn? He was falling under her spell, breaking the most basic rule of law enforcement and letting her get to him.

And he never got involved with a suspect. He never even dated a woman connected to the force. He kept his private life completely separate, what little there’d been of it these past few years.

His phone rang again. Grateful for the distraction, he pulled it from his jacket pocket and checked the screen. Delgado had sent him a text message. His pulse quickened as he pulled it up.

Donut break’s over. Get back here ASAP. The Colonel’s pissed.

He muttered a curse. Lieutenant Lewis must have contacted Colonel Hoffman and revealed that he’d requested a copy of the Walker girl’s file.

“Is something wrong?” Brynn asked.

Wrong? He’d just been caught in a lie. His job could be on the line. “I need to get back to the office.”

“I’ve got things I need to do, too,” she said quickly. “Why don’t we meet again tomorrow afternoon?”

Instantly suspicious, he snapped his gaze to hers. “Why not sooner?”

“I’ve got errands to run. I need a new cell phone, for one thing. And Jamie won’t be awake in the morning. I thought I’d visit that camp in the meantime and try to get an impression of the place.”

Not without him. He was already in this case too deep. And if there was any chance that kid had been murdered, he needed to know. “I’ll go with you. I’ll drive.”

Hesitating, she searched his eyes. “All right, we’ll go together. Ten o’clock?”

He nodded. “At your house?”

“No. I’m not going back there tonight.” She named a place downtown.

“Good.” Knowing that he owed her, he plunged his hand through his hair. “Listen, Brynn. About my brother—”

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay? When we’ve got more time?”

“Tomorrow, then.”

She spun on her heels and walked away. He watched her merge into the shadows, her slender hips swaying, her russet-colored hair a beacon in the encroaching night. And suddenly, he realized he was reluctant to let her go.

And it had nothing to do with his brother’s death.

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