Page 139 of I'm Watching You

Zack took the Franklin Street exit. ‘Sure.’

‘Right.’ Warwick didn’t like this.

Zack maneuvered a few corners and a side alley before he came up behind the gym. There were no cars in the lot.

‘The place is usually deserted?’

Warwick got out of the car. ‘Not usually. But it’s not unheard of for him to take off during the middle of the day if business is slow.’

‘Is summer a slow time?’

‘It can be. The weather is warm and people want to get outside.’

Zack quietly closed the car door behind him. They moved across the gritty alley to the front door. There was aCLOSEDsign on the door.

Warwick tried the door. Locked.

Zack had a bad feeling about this. Warwick was praying Pete wasn’t involved. But the whole situation didn’t smell right. ‘Does he still train fighters?’

‘He was training a couple last year but he cut them loose a few months ago. Hooked them up with a couple of good trainers. Said he was ready to slow down.’

Zack peeked in the front window. The interior was dark. ‘That seem odd to you?’

‘At first, but then I figured he was just getting old.’

Zack wasn’t leaving this place until he got a look inside. ‘Any other way inside?’

‘There’s a door in the back. I have a key.’ They moved around the side of the building down the chipped sidewalk. The area smelled of garbage. Warwick moved ahead of Zack toward a small metal door, shoved his key in the lock, and unlocked it. ‘I have a standing invitation to come into the gym. He knows my schedule is squirrelly.’

‘Myers sounds like a good guy.’

Warwick pushed open the door. ‘He is.’

The gym was dark. The only sound came from the drip-drip of a faucet in the men’s bathroom.

‘Pete!’ Warwick shouted.

His voice echoed on the walls. No answer.

Warwick flipped on the lights. He moved down a dark hallway toward Pete’s office. The desk was a disheveled mess. ‘Pete usually keeps his desk neat. Lately, he’s let it go. I figured it was just because he’s getting old.’

Zack jabbed his thumb toward a door. ‘What’s this?’

‘Basement access.’

‘Anything down there?’

‘Old equipment mostly.’

Zack sighed. Something didn’t feel right. He glanced around the office a second time. Myers’s desk was covered with stacks of papers, a torn boxing glove, half-eaten food, forms. Being a slob wasn’t a crime. And then he saw the black-and-white photo tucked in the corner of a bulletin board on his desk. It was the image of a twenty-something man and a young girl. ‘This Pete?’

‘Yeah. I don’t know who the kid is.’

The five-year-old girl looked familiar. ‘Damn. This kid looks like Lindsay.’

‘Can’t be. Look at the clothes. It’s early nineteen sixties.’

Zack flipped the picture over. Someone had scribbledDeb and Pete, 1963in bold handwriting. ‘You’re right.’ Still, he flicked the edge of the photo with his thumb. ‘Lindsay showed me a picture of herself as a kid. She looked just like this child.’

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