Page 6 of Shelter for Martina

He’d just smiled at her and said, “That’s how much I loved your mama.” That was the greatest gift they’d ever given their kids—parents who loved each other and, in turn, loved them. There was no replacement for that in a child’s life.

He closed the book and placed it on the nightstand, then turned off the light. As he lay there, he thought about the main characters, two people in their fifties who found love with each other after years alone.Does that really happen?he wondered. Nah. He knew better. He’d just turned forty-seven and he didn’t expect to ever meet anybody who’d put up with him or his job.

That’s why it took him by such surprise when his mind drifted back to MartinaAnderson. Even disheveled and distraught, she was a nice-looking woman, and he wondered if she’d dated since her husband died or if she’d always been alone. He figured that as long as her younger daughter had been alive, she probably hadn’t. Her hands had been full taking care of the child. But once the girl had passed, maybe Martina had found someone. She’d given Anderson as her last name, so she hadn’t remarried.

Why am I wondering about that? Good lord, cut that shit out, Bud, he scolded inside his head. How ridiculous. His job was to find her daughter, not worry about her love life. Snuggling down into the bed, he tried to forget about her, but her face kept cycling in his brain.

Especially her eyes. Those sad, desperate, blue eyes. He had this clawing need to see them above a smile.

* * *

There wasa message on his desk from the lab when he got in the next morning. That meant the guys over there had started extra early. It was hard to believe anybody started work earlier than he did, but apparently somebody tried.

“KSP Tire, Lube, and Lab. How can I help you?” a familiar voice sang out.

“Brad! What’s up?”

“Hey, Bud! Got into that car this morning.”

“And?”

“So far, I’ve found no bodily fluids except some urine. I also found a box of diapers, which could explain the urine. Hormone levels in it were low enough that it obviously wasn’t from an adult.”

“Yep. Anything else?”

“No. Not really. Hair from five or six individuals, but that’s to be expected in a family car. A few fingernail clippings. Fast food wrappers, cigarette butts in the ashtray. We can test those for DNA if you want, but—”

“Just hang onto them. If we need them, we’ll do them. Otherwise, don’t go that far yet. So nothing remarkable?”

“No. But the car started right up, so it was operational. It wasn’t sitting there because it had quit or was out of gas. It was parked there.”

“Any way to track her keys?”

“Not on a car that age. The chip in the key wouldn’t act as a transponder.”

“Gotcha. Okay then. Let me know if you find anything I should know about. You know the kinds of things I’m looking for.”

“Sure thing. I’ll give you a call if—”

“Hey, wait, Brad. Did you find any evidence of any kind of drug use in the car? Trace of drugs? Pipe? Anything?”

“Nope. Nothing like that.”

That was interesting. Nothing. For a supposed junkie, that was pretty unusual. “Okay. Thanks. Talk to you soon.”

“You bet.”

Bud sat back in his chair as the call ended and thought about it. This girl was supposed to be a dope head, but there was nothing in her car that would suggest that. Her mother was right. She was clean. He was pondering that little detail when his phone rang again, a number that wasn’t familiar. “Griffin.”

“Bud?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Arlen.”

“Yeah! Hey! How’s it going?”

“I thought you’d want to know, they’re questioning Burgess’s biological dad, PhilAdams.”

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