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Tick closed his eyes.

The burr of a familiar motor drew his attention, and he glanced toward the street. Cookie’s thirty-year-old Blazer turned into the lot, slanting into a slot in front of his apartment. The interior lights flashed as both front doors opened, and Tori hopped down from the passenger seat while Cookie climbed out from behind the wheel.

That was still weird, seeing his little sister with his FTO, but at least Tori had given him a heads up when they started dating. Gene could take a lesson or two from her.

“Tick?” She hurried across the parking lot, ponytail bouncing against her pink t-shirt. Cookie followed at his measured pace. “David. What’s wrong? Hey, Bobby.”

Rutland nodded at her, stance softening further. Tick relaxed an inch or so, too. In her role at the crisis center, she’d interact with local LE on the regular, and Rutland’s quick smile indicated collegial respect. That was good.

He’d hate to be forced to whip the guy’s ass over her.

He could hear Caitlin’s commentary on that idea, too.

“Mr. Williams’s family hasn’t had contact for a couple of days.” Rutland flicked a finger toward Vontressa’s brightly lit window. Tick stilled. Tori’s presence shifted the deputy completely. Now they might get somewhere. “They’re worried.”

“Of course you are.” Tori flashed a quick, sympathetic smile at David. “It’s not like Vontressa not to be in touch with her mama. That would be like me not texting Mama every day.”

She touched Rutland’s arm in punctuation, and he nodded, casting a speculative glance over the parking lot. “You know her.”

“I do. I graduated high school a year before her, and we grew up in church together.” And that was Tori, connecting with the guy the way she did everybody, getting him to listen when Tick hadn’t been able to. Maybe he could take a lesson or two from her as well. “Her mama took care of our mama’s mama. Bobby, it’s not like her at all to be out of contact.”

She glanced at the parking spaces.

“Her car’s not here.”

“No.” Rutland seemed more serious now, less focused on just taking a report and moving on. Tick released a slow breath. He’d been out of a car too long, been interacting at the post-scene point so his approach had been too bull-in-a-china-shop.

Hell, he’d acted just like the arrogant Fed local cops always hated.

He should have brought Caitlin with him to begin with. He had learned a thing or two from her over the years, and her deftness at handling local level LE amazed him.

Shit, he could be a dumbass sometimes.

“Mark Cook, DCPD.” Cookie reached to shake Rutland’s hand. He lifted a finger toward the dark globes of the security cameras. “Renette would give me access to that footage if I asked.”

“That would be good.” Rutland gave a slow nod. “Probably faster than me going through official channels, too. Maybe let us see if she came and went any time in the past couple of days.”

“I’ll give her a call.” Cookie pulled his phone from his pocket. “If it’s okay with you. It’s late, but she likes me.”

“Go ahead, man.”

Tick released another relieved breath. Next to him, Tori carried on a quiet conversation with David, asking questions, offering sympathy and next steps.

“Tick, what if you . . .” Gently, she drew him into the plan of action while Cookie stepped away, phone at his ear.

With Renette’s permission secured and her on the way to open the office, Rutland offered to accompany David to Mrs. Lauree’s to delve into her conversations with Vontressa’s friends.

“I’ll come with you.” With that comforting smile, Tori wrapped her hand through David’s arm. She glanced toward Tick and Cookie, and Cookie dipped his head in an approving nod.

Cookie gestured between him and Tick. “We’ll go through the security film once Renette’s here. Rutland, I’ll give you a call if we see anything.”

“Thanks, man.” With a salute, Rutland lumbered toward his battered patrol car.

Lips twisted into a familiar expression, Cookie waited until Tori and David slid into David’s SUV. “Almost fucked it up with your Fed routine, didn’t you?”

“Fucked is a strong word.” Tick dragged a hand through his hair, remorse tight in his chest. “But, yeah.”

“You’ve been off the road a while.” Cookie folded his arms over his chest, not closed off to him, but the assessing posture Tick had grown accustomed to back in his rookie days. “What you do . . . it has value. Bet you’re a damn good supervisor, but you know you can’t approach a local like he’s one of your agents.”