Page 5 of Girl Lost
“Well, if it isn’t the world’s tallest garden gnome.” Corbin had used that insult before, but Blade still grinned at him.
“And hello to you, Mr. Discount Miami Vice Wannabe.” Blade met him with a handshake.
Blade was nothing like his hard-edged name suggested. As a kid, he’d been bullied for his tenderheartedness and doughy physique. But time in Stryker’s court-ordered Warrior program at the Kingdom MMA Gym had transformed him. Transformed them both, really. Blade had shot up like a weed, stretching his brawny frame to six-foot-four. The program had given him the confidence to own his size. Corbin... well, Corbin was still figuring that part out.
“You just wish you could look this good in a suit. But hey, thanks for coming.” His caseload had kept him buried, leaving little time for anything—or anyone—else lately.
“Soon as I heard Stryker’s name on the box, I hauled it over here.” Blade’s massive hand found Corbin’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. “How you holdin’ up, brother?”
“I’m hanging in there.” Something loosened in his chest at the sight of Blade, the only person who truly got it. The only one who’d walked through the same fire and come out the other side. No one else understood what they’d survived together.
Juvie had been inevitable. Corbin, for a string of stupid mistakes fueled by anger and resentment. Blade, for the noble act of defending a stranger with a knife. But Stryker had intervened. He’d rescued them from the system, offered them a home at the Kingdom MMA Gym, and given them something no one else had. Hope.
Stryker had seen something worth saving where everyone else saw trouble. For Corbin, whose only experience with family had been the sting of his father’s fists and a mother too lost in her bottles of cheap vodka to notice the bruises, the Warrior program had been his salvation. Years of sweat, sacrifice, and shared pain on those mats had forged a connection deeper than any blood tie. They’d bled together, learned to trust each other, and become the family Corbin never knew he craved. So yeah, they were brothers. Not by blood or court documents, but in every way that mattered.
“Except all this.” He circled a finger. “They took Stryker. In broad daylight.”
“You saw it?”
“Right through that window. A dark SUV—black, maybe blue—pulled up. Three masked dudes dressed in black hopped out, tased Stryker, dragged him in the back, then hauled off. Happened in a matter of seconds. I’d dropped in to interview the staff about Carlie Tinch.”
“The commissioner’s daughter? That’s your missing person case?”
“Runaway, most likely. She’s got a history of it. Not to mention shoplifting, drugs, you know.” Corbin scratched the stubble on his jaw. “But bad things happen to runaways, especially young girls. I wanted to take another shot at interviews. See if any new leads materialized.”
“How long has she been missing?”
“Six weeks. The commissioner’s breathing down my neck. Wants me to find her and convince her to join Stryker’s Warrior program.”
“That’s actually a great idea. Could really help her.”
“Come on, man. I’m not a babysitter. Tracking a runaway feels like a punishment, not an assignment.”
“Hey, remember where we came from? This girl needs help, just like we did.”
Blade was right, but it didn’t make the assignment any less frustrating. “I just don’t see why he stuck me in charge when the local PD can handle it. I’m overloaded as it is.Wasoverloaded. This morning, Tinch pulled me off every other case and said this was priority.”
“Maybe he wants the best.” Blade jingled the coins in his pocket. “Think about it. You find Carlie, get her into the program ... you could change her life. Just like Stryker changed ours. Who’s going to be better than you?”
“You.”
“True.” Blade flattened his lips and nodded. “I am a better detective.”Then he smiled. “But he didn’t ask me. He asked you. He’s got his reasons.”
“Well, I’m worried. Six weeks and not a trace.”
“You think she’s...”
“I don’t know. I just know I have to find this kid. Alive.” To tell the head of the FDLE that the top law enforcement agency couldn’t find his daughter was one thing. To tell a father his child was hurt or dead ... the thought stuck in his throat. “Anyway, I’m working on it. My guess is she’s holed up with a friend, avoiding the cops. I’m on it, but we have an active crime scene here. We need to find out who took Stryker and why.”
“Got it. Let’s keep the lunch crowd out.” Blade stuck his head outside and ordered an officer to guard the door. He flipped the sign over to closed and gestured. “Lead the way.”
As they made their way to Marge and Angie, Corbin righted the chair he’d knocked over and pocketed the sunglasses he’d left on the table. Angie’s tears had dried up, and she scrubbed at the mascara trail with a napkin.
“I believe you ladies know Detective St. James.”
“Yeah,” Marge said. “You’re ’nother one of them Warrior kids, ain’t you?”
“Oh, right.” Angie pointed the wadded napkin at Blade. “Now I remember. Y’all were Stryker’s first students in the, uh, what’s it called? Intervention program. Six of you, right?”
