LITMIR.BIZ

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Keri was worried it would never happen. And as she scoured the “strictly platonic” board for the third time today, she couldn’t help think that what had once seemed like such a promising lead might just be another devastating dead end.

      She closed the window on her screen and shut her eyes as she took several deep breaths. Trying not to let hopelessness overwhelm her, she allowed her mind to drift wherever it wanted. Sometimes it took her to unexpected, revealing places that helped unlock puzzles she thought were beyond her.

      What am I missing? There’s always a clue. I just have to recognize it when I see it.

      But it didn’t work this time. Her brain kept circling around the idea of the Black Widower, untraceable and unknowable.

      Of course, at one time she had thought that same thing about the Collector too. And despite that, she had been able to track him down, kill him, and use information in his apartment to discover her daughter’s location. If she did it once, she could do it again.

      Maybe I need to review the Collector’s emails again or go back through his apartment. Maybe I missed something the first time because I didn’t know what to look for.

      It occurred to her that both men – the Collector and the Black Widower – operated in the same world. They were both professional criminals for hire – one a child abductor, the other a killer. It didn’t seem impossible that their paths might have crossed at some point. Maybe the Collector had a record of that somewhere.

      And then she realized there was one other piece of connective tissue. They both had links to the same man, a well-heeled downtown lawyer named Jackson Cave.

      To most people, Cave was a prominent corporate attorney. But Keri knew him as a shady dealmaker who represented the dregs of society, was secretly involved in everything from sex slave rings to drug trafficking operations to outright murder for hire. Unfortunately, she couldn’t prove any of that without revealing some secrets of her own.

      But even without proof, she was certain that Cave was involved with both men. And if that was the case, maybe they had interacted. It wasn’t much. But it was something to follow up on. And she needed something, anything, to keep her from going crazy.

      She was about to go to the evidence room to look through Wickwire’s stuff again when her partner, Detective Ray Sands, walked over.

      “I ran into Lieutenant Hillman in the break room,” he said. “He just got a call and he’s assigned us a case. I can give you the details on the drive over. Are you okay to head out? You look like you’re in the middle of something.”

      “Just some research,” she answered, locking the screen, “nothing that can’t wait. Let’s go.”

      Ray looked at her curiously. She knew he was fully aware that she wasn’t being completely straight with him. But he said nothing as she stood up and led the way out of the station.

*

      Keri and Ray were members of West Los Angeles Division’s Missing Persons Unit. It was generally regarded as the best in all of the LAPD and they were the two major reasons why. They had solved more cases in the last eighteen months than most entire divisions had in double that time.

      It was also true that Keri was viewed as a loose cannon who could create as many problems as she solved. In fact, she was currently technically under investigation by Internal Affairs for how the Collector confrontation had gone down. Everyone kept telling her it was only a formality. And yet it hovered over her, like a rain cloud always threatening to open up.

      Still, despite the corners they sometime cut, no one could question their results. Ray and Keri were the best of the best, even if they were going through a few personal hiccups these days.

      Keri chose not to think about that as Ray walked her through the case details on the drive over to the scene. She couldn’t handle focusing on both a missing persons case and her complicated relationship with Ray at the same time. In fact, she had to look out the window to avoid focusing on his strong, dark forearms gripping the steering wheel.

      “The potential victim is Jessica Rainey,” Ray said. “She’s twelve and lives in Playa del Rey. The mom typically meets her on her bike ride home from school. Today she found the bike lying at the edge of the street and her backpack shoved in a bush nearby.”

      “Do we know anything about the parents?” Keri asked as they barreled down Culver Boulevard in the direction of the seaside community, where she also happened to live. Often parental estrangement was a determining factor. A good half of their missing child cases involved one parent kidnapping the kid.

      “Not much yet,” Ray said as he weaved through traffic. It was early January and cold out but Keri noticed beads of sweat trickling down Ray’s bald head as he drove. He seemed nervous about something. Before she could pursue it, he went on.

      “They’re married. Mom works at home. She designs ‘artisanal’ wedding invitations. Dad works in Silicon Beach, for a tech company. They have a younger child, a six-year-old boy. He’s in his school’s aftercare today. The mom checked and he’s there, safe and sound. Hillman told her to leave him there for now, so his day can stay normal for as long as possible.”

      “Not much to go on,” Keri noted. “Is CSU on the way?”

      “Yeah, Hillman sent them at the same time as us. They may already be there, hopefully processing the bike and backpack for prints.”

      Ray zipped past the intersection with Jefferson Boulevard. Keri could almost see her apartment in the distance now. The ocean was only half a mile beyond that. The Rainey home was in a separate, fancier section of the community, on a big hill with multimillion-dollar homes. They were less than five minutes away.

      Keri noticed that Ray had become unusually quiet. She could tell he was working up the courage to say something. She couldn’t explain why but she dreaded it.

      She and Ray Sands had known each other for over seven years, back before Evie had been abducted, when she was a criminology professor at Loyola Marymount University and he was the local detective who’d been volunteered by his boss to talk to her class.

      After Evie was taken and Keri’s life had fallen apart, he’d been there both as a detective working the case and as a supportive friend. He was there for her during her divorce and her career meltdown. It was Ray who had convinced her to join the force. And when she came to West LA division after two years as a street officer, she became his partner in the Missing Persons Unit.

      Somewhere along the line, their relationship had gotten closer. Maybe it was partly all the playful flirting. Maybe it was the fact that they’d each saved the other’s life multiple times. Maybe it was partly simple attraction. She’d even noticed that Ray, a notorious ladies’ man, had stopped mentioning other women, even in jest.

      Whatever it was, in the last few months, they’d spent a lot of time hanging out at each other’s place after work, going to restaurants together, calling each other for non-work conversations. It was like they were a couple in all ways but one. They’d never made that final leap to consummate their connection. Hell, they’d never even kissed.

      So why am I dreading what I think he’s about to say?

      Keri loved spending time with Ray and a part of her wanted to take things to the next level. She felt so close to the man that it was almost weird that nothing had happened. And yet, for reasons she couldn’t find words for, she feared taking that next step. And she could feel Ray about to cross the threshold.

      “Can I ask you something?” he said as he turned left off Culver onto Pershing Drive, the snaking road that led up to the wealthiest part of Playa del Rey.

      “I guess.”

      No. Please no. You’re going to ruin everything.

      “I feel closer to you than anyone else in the world,” he said softly. “And I get the sense that you feel the same way toward me. Am I right?”

      “Yes.”

      We’re almost to the house. Just drive a little faster so I can get out of this car.

      “But

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