Chasing Shadows. Terri Reed

But no worse than some of the stuff he’d heard before.

      Life, he’d long ago acknowledged, was unpredictable. Anything could, and would, happen. Being prepared was half the battle.

      When Kristina dug through her large tapestry bag and produced a man’s black wallet, Gabe held out his hand. “You found this…on the janitor’s cart?”

      Kristina scrunched up her nose. “I didn’t find it. My grandmother did. Hidden beneath a stack of towels.”

      He raised an eyebrow at that. “You two shouldn’t be snooping around. You might actually find trouble.” Gabe passed the wallet to Angie, who proceeded to pull out the contents.

      “Driver’s license. Expired,” Angie announced. “Credit card, library card and a senior’s discount restaurant card.” She hopped off Gabe’s desk and settled in her own desk chair. “I’ll run these through the computer. See if we have him on file.”

      “You probably will,” Kristina said. “My grandmother said he belonged to a gang when he was young.”

      “Then maybe he wanted to disappear?” Gabe suggested. “It wouldn’t be unusual for an ex-gang member to need to vanish, if, say, someone he’d once crossed found out where he’d retired.”

      Kristina’s eyebrows drew together. “I suppose. But what about Lena? She wasn’t in a gang. She was a sweet little old lady.”

      “Maybe they ran off together,” he remarked drily.

      “Not according to the center’s director.” Blue fire sparked in her eyes. “Something’s happened to them.”

      She seemed genuinely concerned. Gabe took out a pen and paper. “I’ll do some checking and see if I can track Lena—what was the last name again?”

      “Street.”

      “Right.” He made a note. “And the janitor?”

      “Frank Hayes,” she supplied.

      After jotting down the name, he asked, “Where can I reach you?”

      The pretty blonde hesitated long enough to make him raise an eyebrow.

      She surprised him further by taking the pen and paper from his hand with just the slightest brush of skin against skin, but awareness zipped all the way to Gabe’s toes. He mentally shook the sensation off and focused on what she was doing. She wrote down her information and laid the paper on his desk.

      Gabe sighed. “I’ll let you know the minute I have anything,” he said and motioned for her to proceed him. “I’ll walk you out.”

      She didn’t move. “Aren’t you going to check into Frank?”

      Slowly he nodded as a little bubble of irritation shot through him. He didn’t need her dictating his job to him. “Yes. And I’ll let you know what I find out.”

      She arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest, her tapestry bag dangling from the crook of her elbow. “I’d rather wait.”

      He shook his head. He’d rather she walked back out of his life, thank you very much. “That won’t be necessary.”

      “I’ll wait,” she repeated.

      Figured Miss Worthington of the Beacon Hill Worthingtons would expect to have her own way. Seems the rich, pampered socialite hadn’t changed. Though she’d tried her hardest to make him change when they’d dated, wanting him to be more like the rest of the people in her privileged world, his world consisted of Good Will purchases and Top Ramen. Like water and oil. Their lives didn’t mix well.

      Angie turned in her chair to say, “Carl Remming is an ex-con. Busted at nineteen for shoplifting and again in his early twenties for grand theft auto. Has a clean sheet after that. I’ll run his credit card.”

      Gabe nodded his approval. “Check with the airlines, buses, trains for both Carl and Lena Street.”

      “Righto,” Angie agreed and returned her focus to the computer.

      Gabe gave in and sat back down. “Are you always this tenacious?”

      Kristina lifted her chin. “I find it helps in certain situations.”

      He met her gaze. Ah, there was the queenly stare he remembered so well. She was some piece of work; all beauty, brains and self-confidence. Lucky for him, she wasn’t his problem.

      She shifted her gaze to the computer. “I noticed Frank had on very high-end tennis shoes and a Cartier watch.”

      “The watch could be a fake,” Gabe cautioned, annoyed that she’d assume a janitor couldn’t afford nice things. “Or he could have saved up.”

      “Of course the watch could be fake.” Her tone matched his growing irritation. “It’s just…well, you’d have to meet him.”

      If the man checked out, Gabe wouldn’t have to meet him. He typed Frank’s name into the computer. Kristina came around the desk to peer over his shoulder. Her fresh, powdery scent teased his nose and brought back memories he’d thought long gone.

      He gave her a sidelong glance. “Do you mind?”

      She had the grace to duck her chin sheepishly as she stepped back. He forced himself to concentrate.

      Within a few minutes, a rap sheet filled with petty larceny and misdemeanor assault charges came up. Okay, so Frank wasn’t a squeaky-clean janitor. Everyone had a past. But experience had jaded Gabe enough to know a criminal past usually never stayed in the past.

      “So, he bears watching,” he conceded.

      An I-told-you-so look bloomed in Kristina’s clear blue eyes.

      “Well?”

      “Well, what?”

      “You’re not going to at least question him?”

      “In due time,” he said, rebuffing her astounded expression. “First we have to establish probable cause to bring him in. And until we have more information about Carl’s and Lena’s whereabouts, I’m not jumping to conclusions.”

      “But he had Carl’s wallet,” she pointed out. “That can’t be good.”

      Was she kidding? “For all we know, he found it,” Gabe countered. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have some work to do.” He stood and pointedly waited for Kristina to precede him. “I promise to call you the second we’ve found something concrete.”

      “Sure. Fine. I’ll just sit by the phone and wait,” she stated tartly before walking away.

      Gabe had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Kristina Worthington didn’t ever sit around and wait. He could only hope she didn’t do anything to get herself in trouble or interfere with his investigation. Or his peace of mind.

      

      “Just sit by the phone and wait,” Kris grumbled as she crouched behind a stack of crates at the far end of an alley in midtown Boston. “Fat chance.”

      Somewhere in the distance a horn honked. Otherwise, the streets were quiet and freezing. Late-night air seeped through her black jeans, black turtleneck and black parka. She’d bound up her hair under a dark baseball cap. Her ears were getting cold. Thankfully it wasn’t snowing again. Her nose wrinkled at the many odd and unpleasant odors wafting in the air. She distracted herself the same way she had since the adrenaline rush of conducting her very own stakeout—by bringing her camera up to her eye.

      The shutter silently captured Frank Hayes’s every move. She’d been following the janitor for the past hour, ever since he’d left Miller’s Rest in his little beat-up two-seater.

      He’d eaten at a dive that served more booze than food before heading out the back door and down this alley.

      Gabe wanted proof the guy was doing something he shouldn’t;