Page 32 of Ultimate Justice

“I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” She headed for the kitchen, throwing over her shoulder, “Don’t forget to wash your hands before you come to the table.”

In the tiny kitchen, she filled a pot with water and set it on the stove to boil. All the extra plates, of which there were few, sat on the top cupboard shelf because she’d never needed them. She grabbed a chair and stood on it. If Evan had stayed for dinner, he could easily have grabbed the plates for her.

Her hand froze in mid reach. The tingly warmth she’d felt earlier dove straight to her breasts, and she could no longer deny what her body was saying.

FBI Special Agent Evan McGarry made her feel things—physical things—she hadn’t in a very long time.

Chapter Ten

Being so early on a Saturday morning, the parking lot outside Marlie’s apartment building was packed. Her awesome antique Ford pickup was in the same spot she’d parked in last night.

Evan squinted as he pulled the Yukon into a space in the back forty. With Blue’s kennel taking up what would normally have been a rear bench seat in a normal Expedition, he’d opted for an agency pool vehicle.

The dashboard clock read seven forty-five a.m., making him fifteen minutes early. A rush of hot breath tickled his neck as Blue thrust his head between the two front seats.

He wondered how the night had gone for Noah and Marlie. Eventually, the kid would be okay. Marlie was a different story. At first, he hadn’t understood her reluctance to him going inside her apartment. The moment he had, he got it. It was a place she put her head down at night, but she wasn’t really living there. She was existing. Nothing more, nothing less. The same way his parents had when it was clear Gracie would never be coming home.

He let his head fall back against the headrest and closed his eyes. Tomorrow was the worst day of the year—his and Gracie’s birthday. Blowing it off would be his preference, but he had to be there.

Interviewing his parents was another thing he wasn’t looking forward to. Ideally, he’d put it off until he got more feedback from the other investigative teams. He still recalled the emotional rollercoaster he and his parents lived through every time they received a lead on Gracie that didn’t materialize into anything. His mom and dad hadn’t slept much. Headaches and stomach aches became an everyday thing. Before he put them through that again, he had to be sure it was worth the pain it would inflict. He’d wait for the right day to talk to them. There would probably never be a right day. Would there ever be one again for Marlie?

He’d pushed her into taking on Noah. She wasn’t doing this for him or the FBI, she was doing it for the kid. He hoped there was a part of her buried down deep that was doing it for herself, too. She had backbone and deserved to find happiness again. Love and a family.

Deck had found that with Tori. Brett with Gemma. It was a life he would never have, not the way things were going. His life was set on a path from which he could never detour, and it was one without a family of his own. Sometimes he felt like a gerbil on a wheel, going round and round and never getting anywhere.

Blue snorted, nuzzling Evan’s hair. Even his dog had more prospects for hooking up than he did.

His phone blared out Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love,” the song he’d assigned to Deck after he and Tori had gotten engaged. Brett didn’t know it yet, but his ringtone was Florence & The Machine’s “Dog Days Are Over.” Yeah, his friends were so whipped.

He put Deck’s call on speaker. “What’ve you got?”

“We were out all last night conducting interviews,” Deck said on a yawn. “Except for your parents, we talked to the families of every kid we can put a name to.”

“I’ll talk to my folks.” Soon. “Go on.”

“Families of the kids reported missing within the last five years all used Manello’s company, Mile High Pool Cleaning, to service their pools, and they identified Frank Manello from his photo. The other kids went missing more than ten years ago. Six of those families used a different pool service, and two didn’t have pools when their kids went missing. None of them ever heard of Frank Manello, and none of them could ID him from the DMV photo.”

Another pool service. Way too much coincidence in his book. It was a wonder no one ever made the connection before. “What’s the name of the pool service those six families used?”

“Blue Waters, based out of Denver, and before you ask…” The sounds of papers being shuffled came through the phone. “Blue Waters went out of business five years ago. The owner was Arthur Constantino.”

Blue Waters. The company that used to clean his family’s pool. That was the link. “When did Mile High Pool Cleaning come into existence?”

“Five years ago.”

The same time Blue Waters folded. Another coincidence? “Let’s find out if Frank Manello ever worked for Blue Waters.” If he had, he’d never cleaned Evan’s family pool, or he’d have recognized the guy.

“On it,” Deck said. “Already emailed the employment records request to the Department of Labor. I’ll follow up with them on Monday.”

“I’m tied up today with Marlie and Noah at the farmers markets. You and Brett go interview Arthur Constantino. I don’t want anyone else on that, and I don’t want to wait until Monday.”

“You got it.”

“Regarding the two families that didn’t have pools when their kids went missing, it’s possible Manello finds kids other ways, like online, or at parks or shopping malls. Have Sammy check for social media accounts. If he’s got any, we’ll get warrants for them.” But social media sites weren’t all cooperative with law enforcement. At least, not in a timely manner, and time was of the essence. Manello was still out there somewhere. “Call me after you talk to Constantino.”

“Will do. Hey, did you pick up your tux?”

“Yeah, I got it.” The clear plastic garment bag hanging on the clothes hanger bar behind his head had smudge marks on it from where Blue had given it the once-over.