Page 96 of The Last Close Call

“Why especially now?”

“Because things have really taken off, and now every police department in the country is dusting off their cold cases and looking for genealogists to get them new leads.”

“That’s great for you, right? You could do it like what you’re doing now—as a consulting business—and be inundated with work.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of. Being inundated. It was a nightmare—literally. I couldn’t sleep, and when I did, I would dream about rapists and murderers. I was having anxiety attacks in parking garages.”

Dara frowned. “I didn’t know that.”

“That’s because I didn’t talk about it. But I was a mess. Part of it was me not setting boundaries and never having the guts to say no to anything they heaped on my plate. But part of it was the work itself. I felt like I was drowning.”

“How come you never said anything?”

“Because what’s the point? Everyone’s job is stressful.”

“You should have told me. I at least could have commiserated.”

“Forget it. It’s in the past.”

Dara looked worried, and Rowan checked her watch.

“Listen, I wish I could stay longer, but I need to run.” Rowan stood up and grabbed her purse, and Dara stood, too. “Let me know when you’re bringing Nick around. I’m dying to meet him.”

“Thanks for the coffee break,” Dara said.

“Thank you. I appreciate you spending part of your weekend doing that favor for Jack.”

Dara leaned in and gave her a hug. “I didn’t do it for Jack, dummy. I did it for you.”

***

Bryan glanced up and down the quiet street as he approached the utility van. It was parked beside an easement, which helped, but it had been here all day, and at some point, someone in the neighborhood was bound to get suspicious. He tapped his knuckles on the ice-cold door, and a moment later, it slid open.

“Hey,” Bryan said, climbing inside. Once again, it felt like a freezer on wheels. But he’d come prepared this time in a thick sweatshirt.

“Anything new?” Jack asked.

“Nope.”

“What’s the word from Heidi?”

Bryan settled into the empty bucket seat and looked Jack over. Today his partner wore a black short-sleeved T-shirt, despite the cold, and his hair was mussed, as though he’d run his hand through it a couple hundred times. He had a pair of military-grade binoculars looped around his neck.

“Aren’t you cold, man?” Bryan asked.

“I’m trying to stay awake.”

Bryan flipped open the cooler and grabbed a Red Bull. “Heidi didn’t have any updates.”

Jack cursed.

The excitement over Bryan’s black Honda Civic lead had mostly fizzled as research revealed twenty-nine black Civics registered within the county. And that didn’t include the ones belonging to university students, whose cars were probably registered elsewhere. The task force had divided into two separate teams to stake out the most promising prospects. One was a vehicle registered to a thirty-six-year-old male on the west side of town. The logic there was that it might be Anderson living under an assumed name.

But Jack believed this location was the better lead.

Bryan popped open the drink and took a swig.

“How are things going here?” he asked.

---