Page 9 of Shadowed Witness (The Secrets of Kincaid #2)

After finding nothing to substantiate Allye’s alleged experience at the park, Eric returned to town and headed for Dion’s house. As he drove, he mulled through the details of Allye’s case.

Much as he hated to admit it, the mayor’s statement made sense. Allye’s ... didn’t.

And yet he didn’t feel comfortable dismissing the woman.

Even without the concerning bruises on her neck, he’d known her for years.

They weren’t close friends by any means, but he was a pretty good judge of character and had spent enough time around her to know that she wasn’t the type to blow things out of proportion.

Yes, she came off a bit na?ve at times, but she was smart and logical and very perceptive.

She was also an extrovert that could make friends with the grumpiest curmudgeon around. And her reputation was stellar. The worst thing he’d ever heard said about her was that she was too much of a Pollyanna.

And though he’d seen the fatigue Mayor Jennings mentioned, there’d been no sign of deceit or delusion when he spoke with Allye earlier today.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t mistaken.

The mayor believed she’d had a traumatic fall, and trauma did weird things to people sometimes.

And there was always the possibility that she experienced some sort of hallucination that left her with realistic-feeling, but totally bogus, memories from last night.

Still didn’t account for the bruising though.

And the conversations she’d claimed to have overheard at the park complicated things too.

According to her, one of the speakers had reassured the other that whatever they were exchanging wasn’t tainted.

They hadn’t outright said there had been tainted drugs floating around recently, but that would fit with the ODs the department had seen in recent weeks, Ashley Harrison’s included.

Regular meth users who didn’t realize their drugs had been laced with fentanyl would be even more likely to overdose than someone who knew what they were taking.

Would Allye have any clue that kind of thing was going on?

The police chief was waiting to get more results back before making a public statement about the possible fentanyl situation, so the average citizen shouldn’t know about it yet.

And if she’d just imagined a drug deal going down, that detail was conveniently on the nose. And then that cop comment...

This one was a puzzler, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to figure it out.

Darkness was falling as he pulled into Dion’s driveway again. No lights shined from the house despite the early evening hour, but he’d try knocking on the door anyway. The crime scene tape had been removed earlier today, so Dion could theoretically have returned home and let himself inside.

But as he expected, his knock was met with silence. The teen was still missing.

Returning to his car, Eric settled into the driver’s seat but didn’t reach for the ignition.

Instead, he checked his phone. No missed calls or messages.

He tried Dion’s number again, then the few remaining friends who hadn’t responded to his earlier calls.

All but one of them answered this time, but as with the earlier group, they claimed they hadn’t seen or heard from Dion since school yesterday.

Maybe they just didn’t want to rat their friend out to a cop, but Eric didn’t get the sense they were lying.

Heart heavy, he began entering a missing person report and getting Dion’s info into the appropriate databases. The situation didn’t meet the criteria for an AMBER alert, and there was still a chance the boy was completely fine, but Eric couldn’t assume that was the case. He needed to find him ASAP.

Once everything was uploaded, including the most recent picture he had of the teen, Eric grabbed his notebook and pen. Again, he reviewed everything related to Dion and his mom. Added a few more notes to his most recent follow-up calls.

He stared at the paper. Clicked his pen. Once, twice, three times. There wasn’t nearly enough information here. His brain flew through everything he knew about the situation, trying to fit the pieces together.

Dion’s mom was dead of an overdose.

Click.

Lucky was safe. Dion in the wind.

Click.

Where had Ashley Harrison procured her drugs? Had her death hit the news? Did Dion know his mom was gone? Was the teen okay?

Click. Click. Click.

He dropped the pen and massaged his forehead.

Before his meeting with Mayor Jennings, he’d checked in on Lucky.

The social worker hadn’t found an emergency placement for him yet at that point.

If they were still at the social services office, maybe he could question the boy.

Lucky might not know anything—or be willing to talk to him—but it might be his best shot at finding out something that would lead him to Dion.

A quick phone call confirmed Lucky and the social worker were still at the office. He started the car and backed out of the driveway, casting one last look at the darkened house before pulling away.

The social services headquarters was only a few miles away, and Eric arrived in less than ten minutes. He made his way to the third floor and rapped on an office door. Tracy Ann, a veteran social worker, answered.

“Detective Thornton, come on in.” She stood aside to allow him entrance.

He quickly took in the office. One side of the room appeared to be a kitchenette and boasted a refrigerator and microwave.

The other contained a desk centered under a window, a cot pushed against the wall in one corner, and a small play area nestled into another corner and framed in with a short couch.

Lucky sat in the play area, guiding a wooden train along a rug printed with a winding road.

“He hasn’t said a word all day,” Tracy Ann murmured. “Not even when we told him about his mama.”

The words landed like a one-two punch to the kidneys. The boy had lost almost everything today. Depending on what happened with Dion, almost might be too optimistic.

Eric crossed into the play area and knelt in front of the boy. His knees crackled like a bowl of rice cereal, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in a while. Next stop.

“Hey, there. Remember me?”

Lucky didn’t look up from his train.

“I’m Detective Thornton. You doing okay?”

A barely discernible shrug.

“You have supper?”

A nod.

“Good. Listen, Lucky, I’m trying to find your brother. Nobody’s heard from him, and I want to make sure he’s okay. Do you know where he could be?” No response. “Lucky.” Eric gently covered the boy’s hand.

Lucky flinched away and scooted backward, leaving the train in Eric’s grip.

Bad move. “Sorry.” He moved the train back toward the boy, but Lucky didn’t reach for it.

“Go ahead. It’s okay.” When the boy still didn’t move, he decided to try one more time.

“Lucky, I know it’s been a really bad day, and we’re trying to make sure you and your brother are taken care of.

But I can’t help Dion if I don’t know where he is. ”

Lucky finally made eye contact. Held it. His expression gave nothing away, but at least it let Eric know he was listening.

“Do you know where he likes to hang out? Maybe the name of a friend he goes to see sometimes?”

He shook his head—a hesitant movement, as if he was afraid Eric would lash out at him for not giving the right answer.

Eric kept his face neutral. He was disappointed, but it had been a long shot.

“Thank you for answering me. If you think of something, ask Ms. Tracy to call me.” He nudged Lucky’s hand with the train, and the boy took it this time, scooted backward another few inches, then began tracing the road again.

Eric studied him for a moment. The blank expression hid the fear and anxiety he had to be feeling. “You’re gonna be okay, buddy.” He prayed the words were true.

He rose and stepped out of the play area to where Tracy Ann was waiting.

“Thanks for letting me talk to him.”

“Of course. I hope you find his brother soon.”

“Yeah. Me too.” He glanced at Lucky. “I know you guys are stretched, but if you can, would you keep me posted on him?”

“I’ll do what I can. I haven’t found a placement for him yet, so he may be staying with me tonight.”

He thanked her again, then headed for the office exit.

“Will Dion take me home when you find him?”

Tracy Ann sucked in a breath, and Eric released the doorknob and turned to find Lucky watching him.

He searched for a response that wouldn’t crush the kid, but he wasn’t going to outright lie to him.

The truth was hard, but a lie would only give him false hope.

And a short-lived hope at that. Lucky deserved better.

“No. I’m sorry, Lucky. He’s too young to be able to take care of you.

You’ll be going to a new home, but hopefully it’ll be a better one and you two can be together. ”

The boy’s shoulders slumped, and he turned away—but not before Eric saw the quiver in his lower lip.

He met Tracy Ann’s eyes and saw the tears there. She still felt for these kids. The system hadn’t hardened her like it had so many. At least while Lucky was in her care, he’d be well taken care of. For now, that had to be enough.