Page 80 of Tear Me Apart

Zack clicks off the phone and buries a hand in Kat’s thick fur. “What the heck was that all about?”

“It sounded to me like your sergeant wasn’t surprised by our phone call.”

42

Parks pulls Starr from the meeting with a gruff wave.

In the hall, she pulls on her jacket.

“Thank you for saving me. The community alliance task force meetings are possibly the slowest, longest meetings on the planet.”

“They’re a ten-minute briefing.”

“They used to be. Now it’s an hour of lectures about how Homicide is slacking off and not doing our part.”

“What’s our role in the community alliance exactly?”

“That’s an excellent question. Last I heard, we are responsible for exactly squat outside of our monthly weekend in uniform, yet somehow, we have the most people on the ground in this.” She waves a hand. “Politics and posturing. You know how it is.”

“I’ll talk to the Lieutenant. See if she can’t put in a word. I don’t need my detectives having their time wasted.”

They were in the garage now, alone, shoes echoing off the concrete.

“What’s up?”

“New lead on the Armstrong case. We’re heading to the airport to talk to a Colorado Bureau of Investigation DNA tech, and Zack Armstrong.”

Starr waits until they are in the car to speak again.

“What kind of lead, exactly?”

“You ever heard of a skier named Mindy Wright?”

“Nope.”

“I spent some time last night researching her. She’s the new kid on the block. Seventeen years old, total wunderkind. Instinctual downhill skier, could be one of the greats. Unfortunately, she broke her leg at an event last month, which might hurt her chances for the Olympic team. She has a spot, but if she doesn’t recover...”

“That sucks.”

“Did you know Gorman was a skier?”

“I did, actually. He talked about it all the time. He was excited about the trip to Colorado. Such a shame.”

“He met Mindy Wright while he was out there. And then died suddenly, in a tragic accident.”

“I’m not following. What does a teenage skier have to do with the Armstrong...wait, you think this is the lost kid?”

“I think she might be. She looks a lot like Vivian Armstrong. Gorman was, by all accounts, researching her heavily. And this morning, Mindy Wright’s aunt showed up at Armstrong’s house.”

Starr puts on a pair of Ray-Bans. “This would be the fastest cold case close in Metro history. No chance we’ve gotten this lucky.”

“I like you, Starr. You’re such an optimist.”

* * *

At Nashville International, they badge the Southwest counter agents and get a gate pass. TSA doesn’t put up too much of a fuss, but they do a pat-down of them both, to make sure the Nashville cops are well and truly aware who holds the power in this relationship. The manager on duty escorts them to C15, where the Denver flight is getting ready to board.

Zack Armstrong sits in a chair by the window, currents of energy coming off him like a strobe light, the elegant dog at his feet, her head up, watching, a small black badge attached to her harness that readsService Dogin red stitching. Simple, straightforward. If this doesn’t discourage a casual approach, the very large man sitting next to the dog who is supposed to be an English professor but instead looks like a trained operative will deter even the most curious people.