Page 21

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

Jack and I step into the Penalty Box as the familiar cacophony of clinking glasses and friendly banter fills the air.

The place is dimly lit, filled to the hilt with bodies, there’s a baseball game on just about every screen, and the scent of grilled steak hits a high note with our senses, and that of Buddy’s.

The poor pooch looks up at me, hopeful, and I give him a quick pat. “I’ll make it up to you,” I say as Jack nods.

“My stomach is asking me to do the same,” he says. “We should get dinner after this.”

“This whole eating thing is cyclical with you, isn’t it?” I tease.

“It’s one of my finer qualities,” he says.

“It’s one of Buddy’s, too,” I say, offering him another quick pat. “You seem to have a lot in common with the dog.” I give a little wink as I say it. Considering that the dog in question is Buddy, it’s basically a compliment.

“I’m starting to think some of the women at the reunion would agree with you.” Jack sighs hard as he looks around at the place. “Thank you for agreeing to be my plus-one.”

“You mean plus-two. Nikki’s going as well.”

“Yes, but she’s just going as a friend. You’re my official date. I’ve seen the way Nikki dances. I can’t be too closely associated with that.”

“I’m not any better,” I warn just as we spot that familiar dark-haired man behind the bar.

Derek is busy wiping down glasses with an absent-minded efficiency before looking up as we approach. And just like that, his easygoing demeanor dissipates.

“Hey.” He nods our way, forcing a smile, but it never initiates. “What’s going on? Did you find Brittney?” His question slices through the din of conversation and seems to be weighted with genuine concern. But where his concern lies is the question.

“Not yet,” I say. “And sorry about the dog. I just didn’t want to leave him in the car.”

“The dog is welcome,” he says as his eyes flit from Jack to me. “The two of you, I’m not so sure about. You look pretty serious.”

“We’ve heard you might know something that could help us out.” Jack doesn’t hesitate to cut to the quick.

Derek inches back and his brows furrow. You can see the defensiveness growing on his face.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve heard.” Derek looks perplexed. “I’m as in the dark as you are. But if there’s something I can do to help, then I’m all yours.” He puts down the glass hard as if to punctuate the point.

Jack and I exchange a brief glance. It’s time to test the waters, see if we can’t shake something loose.

“We’ve got a tip suggesting you might be holding back some information,” I say. I may as well play the part of bad cop even though Jack doesn’t want to claim his old acquaintance as a friend. “Mind if we take a look around?”

Derek’s mouth falls open, and for a moment he seems to weigh his options, then shrugs with an air of indifference.

“Sure.” He gives a short-lived smile. “I’ve got nothing to hide. Follow me.”

He leads us on a tour of the dining room, pointing out each piece of memorabilia he’s collected, along with the renovations he’s recently made. And there’s a notable hint of pride creeping into his voice despite the circumstances. It’s easy to see the Penalty Box is more than just a bar to the guy, it’s a labor of love.

“I can tell you really care about this place,” I tell him, softening my tone in an effort to keep him loose.

“You bet,” he says without hesitating. “There’s a piece of me etched into every corner. I’ve always been a big sports guy. You toss in all the burgers I can eat and it’s a match made in heaven.” He pats his belly as if to affirm the fact.

“Maybe I should open a bar?” Jack muses and we share a laugh.

Buddy gives a soft woof of approval and we chuckle once again.

“It looks as if you have a willing business partner,” I say to Jack. “But the two of you would eat your way right through the revenues.” I glance back at Derek. “You have no idea how much this guy can put away.”

“Same old Jackie.” He gives a wistful tick of the head. “You still gobbling up the girls just as fast?” He nods my way. “This guy used to pack ’em in. Six dates a night.”

Jack huffs, “Only because I was trying to give you a run for your money.”

“Hey.” Derek laughs, holding up his arms. “I was tame by comparison. I had a ball and chain.”

“Nothing kept you down,” Jack says sternly. “Thank you for the tour of the place. You mind if we take a peek at your office?”

Derek’s expression darkens and he shakes his head. “Sure.” His words contrast his actions. “This way,” he says it slowly as if he were leading us to his doom. “I can send you the security footage we have. I’ve got the last six months. Then after that, it rewrites itself digitally.”

I lift a brow at Jack. The fact the guy just volunteered his security footage once again is a pretty good indication he’s confident we won’t find anything.

He leads us through a small hallway, through a portion of the kitchen and into a small back room with a cluttered desk, an ancient-looking computer system, and a dirty white phone on the wall. There’s a leather office chair with a jacket tossed over it and a giant poster that extols the virtues of washing your hands.

“That’s it.” Derek extends an arm at the place.

“What’s this?” Jack taps his foot over a square cutout in the floor. “Trapdoor leading to the underground lair?’ he teases.

It’s a ground safe. We both know it.

“You caught me.” Derek laughs and his mood begins to lighten once again. “But that’s not the porthole to Hell. That would be right next to the arcade games, behind the Out of Order Pac-Man.”

A dark chuckle rumbles through Jack’s chest. “All right, man. We appreciate this. Where are you staying these days?”

Derek shakes his head. “I’m in Brighton, just six miles north. You want to poke around there, too? I’ll take you right now.”

“It would save us a little time,” Jack says.

Soon, we’re following Derek right out of Elmwood and into Brighton where he parks in front of a two-story townhouse. He lets us in and gives us the run of the place, and Jack and I quickly trot from room to room.

The townhouse is minimally furnished, maximally unkempt, there’s an outbreak of mold in his shower, and his bathroom sink is glowing with orange slime.

The kitchen sink is brimming with dishes and a few fast food bags thrown into the mix.

No basement.

No sign of anyone roped up in his closets, so we thank him and take off.

“Just seeing that mess makes me think twice about eating out,” I say as we land back in the truck.

“True,” Jack says as we make our way back onto the road. “But in his defense, there’s no health inspector stopping by to make sure he’s not going to poison himself by way of questionable kitchen practices.”

“So we came up empty.” I sigh as Buddy crops up between us, hopeful for another treat.

“We still have the security footage,” Jack points out while fishing some doggie biscuits out of my glove compartment and giving a handful to the cute pooch. “And I’ll run Derek’s name and see if he has any storage facilities he might have access to. The second I saw it was a townhouse, I knew he didn’t have her here.”

I nod. “If I had to guess, Brittney is somewhere secluded, somewhere where she can scream her head off and no one will know. Unless, of course, she’s dead.”

Jack growls at the thought. “If another week goes by, she most likely will be.”

We head back to Pine Ridge Falls listening to Buddy snore in the back seat.

“We’ll talk to Alicia Adams tomorrow,” he says once we crest Whispering Woods. “She’s a teacher now at my old stomping grounds.”

“Just like Nessa,” I point out. “Maybe we’ll get a two-fer.”

“Maybe we’ll get a killer,” he says with a note of dejection in his voice as if maybe we won’t.

Someone out there knows something.

It just so happens, it’s not us.