Chapter 8
Sam
After a fruitless night, we sleep for a while, and in the morning, begin our search anew. As we cross the Brooklyn Bridge, ahead of us, the city’s skyscrapers glisten in the sun.
Squinting, Suds jaw tics, so I rest my hand on his knee. “We got this, tough guy. We’ll find her.”
He glances off the road as we veer onto the FDR. “I’m worried. Fucking Feds. Fucking or-else. Who do they think they are, huh? Once we find the girl, I’m going to kick some ass.”
“As long as I can dole out my forty whacks, too, I’m good.”
“A Lizzie Borden reference? Not sure the ax applies, but the sentiment is mighty fine.”
Concentrating in rush hour traffic, he drives north. In Alphabet City, he parallel parks, switches off the ignition, and grins.
“Nicely done.” My dad’s business card on the dash guarantees we won’t get ticketed.
Then, we hop out of the car and knock on the row house, the first shelter on our list.
“Yeah?” A bearded two-by-four of a man cracks open the chained door and narrows his gaze.
“You seen this girl recently?” Suds shows him Chrissy’s mug shot and he shakes his head, no.
“Please call if you do. Her mother is worried sick.” I push a business card to his nose.
After a few seconds, he sighs, reads it, and drops it to the floor. “Sure thing.”
A similar scenario happens at all the shelters in the area. Frustrated, we return to where I saw her last.
“Damn.” My legs ache from all the walking and it feels like we’re running in circles.
An email notification bleeps on my phone. Thinking we may have a lead, I lift my screen to share with Suds, realize my mistake and shut it off.
“What the fuck, Sam? Is that what I think it is?” The hurt in his eyes cause mine to water.
Shit, I forgot all about the stupid application.“You don’t understand. Dad insisted I try for the job before he’d let Mom watch Mikey.”
“What?” He shakes his head, stops in front of our SUV, and opens his arms. “C’mere, babe. I don’t know which side of your family is worse. The cops or the criminals. Why didn’t you tell me?”
My hands slide around his waist, I snuggle my face into his neck, and inhale his woodsy scent. “Because I had no intention of following through. Can you imagine?”
“It’d keep you out of trouble.” He opens my passenger door and slams it behind me.
With hands on the hood, he steps on the SUV’s bumper, squeezes between the cars, and jumps behind the wheel.
As he buckles up, I share my thoughts. “Go back to being an FBI analyst? C’mon, pal. I’d be bored out of my skull. Puh-lease.”
“The medical benefits are awesome.” He pokes my most ticklish rib and I slap his hand away.
“You’re worse than my parents.” I stop kidding around when he pinches my chin.
“Do me a favor, if the Feds offer you the job, string them along. We may need an inside person before all is said and done.”
“You’re serious?” My eyes search his until I’m convinced he’s not messing with me.
“I am. Wouldn’t it be fun to shove your successes in your old boss’ face?”
“I’d be lying if I said I never fantasized about it.”
“Hold on, Slate sent me a link.” As he thumbs his phone, I stretch over the emergency brake so I can see as well.
The headline reads, ‘University student killed. Cheektowaga High School girl person of interest.”
Suds whistles through his teeth then scrolls down to Akash Patel’s picture. “Isn’t this the guy you spoke with in Buffalo?”
“Shit. We need to find Chrissy before the cops do. She’s also going to need a good lawyer. I’m going to call Selena and ask her to retain Quinn and Associates.”
“Good idea. Where to, now?”
