Page 73 of Close Match

“Just put the gun down. I know what happened. I can help,” I plead with the kid as my partner, Shaun, moves to the back side of him. Saunders and Rogers are slowly climbing the back stairs so they don’t startle him into shooting. He’s surrounded. There’s nowhere to go.

“No one can help. No one! Don’t you get it! I won’t admit I did anything wrong. No matter who I talked to, they said I was making it up!” he screams.

I’m not so sure he’s wrong for putting holes with the .45 he’s holding in the chest of his molester either, but that’s not up to me. It’s up to a criminal justice system that’s overrun with too many cases like his. “I can try,” I whisper.

“I can do better.” He lifts the gun to his head and squeezes.

“No!”

I shoot up in bed on a scream the same way I have for the last eight months since the night we solved the case but failed to save the victim.

Tim McMann died because he didn’t believe. And I no longer know how to.

Shaking, I get out of bed and stand in front of the window, searching for something to calm my aching heart. Wildly, desperately, I race over to the bar and reach for a glass. I pour myself a drink and pound it back.

As soon as the burning liquor hits my churning stomach, I race to the bathroom, dropping to my knees. I begin to wretch. Loud, violent heaves. Over and over until I’m sweating with snot and tears coursing down my face.

When will it end?

Wearily, I put my head down onto the vomit-ridden toilet seat for just a moment and close my eyes. I know I’ll have to shower before I crawl back into bed, but I don’t have the energy to right now.

And all I want is peace. Somewhere to escape all the pain.

Forty

Montague

Idon’t know why I seek Linnie out the next morning. She wasn’t at breakfast, which was unusual. She hasn’t missed eating with us once since she’s arrived.

I try her dance studio first, and I’m shocked when the door’s locked. Pulling out my phone, I give Ev a quick call. “Do you know where Linnie is?”

“She mentioned going for a walk, but I didn’t ask where.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Disconnecting, I think. Where would she go? Deciding to saddle up Hatchet, I wander off to the horse barn where I stop in my tracks. The woman I’ve been looking for is sitting on the floor of the dirty barn in designer jeans having an in-depth conversation with a little girl who’s been sponsored through Ev’s scholarship program. Lorrie lives with her elderly grandmother on the outskirts of Leesburg. She’s been a tough nut to crack with the horses. She’s more than willing to groom them but refuses to get up on them. I can’t figure out why.

But apparently, she’s a marshmallow for Linnie, who’s making her giggle.

Lingering in the shadows, I blatantly listen to their conversation with interest. I’m astounded by what I hear.

“Grandma doesn’t know how to do fancy braids like that.” Lorrie reaches up to touch the french braid that runs down Linnie’s back. “All she can do is pigtails.” She lets out a beleaguered sigh. “And every day she threatens to cut my hair anyway.”

“Why’s that?” Linnie asks, not putting pity or sympathy in her voice though God knows she has to feel both.

“Well, we can’t afford conditioner. So it hurts when she pulls a comb through,” Lorrie replies. “Grandma says it’d be easier if my hair were shorter, but then she realizes it’d have to be cut more. Instead, she slaps my hand with the comb if I get too loud.”

“Does it hurt?” Linnie digs in her bag in front of her, pulling out a bristle brush. As she gets up on her knees, she spots me. She gives me a negative shake of her head, which I acknowledge with a slight tip of my head.

“Nah. It’s kinda like this.” And from the shadows, I watch as Lorrie pops Linnie lightly on the fingers. The tension in Linnie relaxes.

“Are you going to do that to me if I try to brush out your hair to braid it?” Linnie teases. The little girl’s face lights up.

“I might,” she teases back, twisting her head back and grinning at Linnie, showing off where she’s missing a few teeth. Spotting me, she goes, “Uh-oh, Miss Linnie. Now might not be a good time though. There’s Mr. Monty.”

Linnie makes a scoffing sound. “I’ll bet you mucking out Hatchet’s stall he’ll let me braid your hair.”

Lorrie wrinkles her nose. “I’m not so sure about that.”

It’s then I step forward. “I think she was betting me, Lorrie. And what do I get if I win?”