Page 25 of Every Which Way

Roxanne shrugged one shoulder. “Finding our asset doesn’t happen if we’re constantly interrupted by law enforcement. Or waylaid by them. Did you see the crime scene?”

Apparently, she’d been too far away to see Kenna go in. “I did.”

“And?”

“The cops don’t have much.”

Roxanne said, “Envelope behind you on the seat.”

Kenna reached back for the thin manila, stuffed with several sheets of paper. “What’s this?”

“Other cases with the same MO.”

She slid the papers out. “Here in Denver?”

Roxanne shook her head. “This is the first one in this city. The others are all over but concentrated in Wyoming and Utah motels on highways that are major travel routes for crossing the west.”

Kenna leafed through the pages. “Where did you get this information?” Some of these cases went back years. “And why has no one put it together that they appear to be the work of one person who likes to keep their activity to a discernable pattern?”

“You tell me. You’re the top-notch investigator.” Roxanne glanced over. “I guess you’ve got a serial kidnapper on your hands. Or a serial murderer.”

“One that took one of your assets. How is that possible? You guys are supposed to be the best of the best.”

“Even the mighty fall,” Roxanne said. “You should know that better than anyone.”

ChapterSeven

“Did you put some feelers out to the contacts we’ve made?” Kenna pulled the car into one of the few spaces in this little public parking lot. It was going to cost a fortune for the privilege of leaving the car here during dinner at the restaurant Adrielle had chosen.

She glanced over at Maizie in the passenger’s seat, wearing her nicest black jeans, boots, and a white T-shirt and denim jacket. Her hair was loose and curled because she’d been watching videos on how to do it.

The teen said, “I’m waiting on a reply from the resistance about Roxanne.”

“Trust but verify.”

“I should write that down. Start a notebook. Kenna’s rules for investigation.”

“By the way,” Kenna said, changing the subject, “you look like a rock star in that outfit. Oh, I know! You actually look like you got famous as a child star, and now you’re trying to keep things low-key so no one recognizes you.”

Maizie chuckled. “You’re weird. And you look like you, by the way.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Yeah.” Maizie sighed. “It is. You look like you’d be ready to chase a guy through the bayou or search through a compound that belonged to a cult in Washington state. Or fly to England and crack a case wide open.”

“What about dinner at a fancy restaurant?” Because that’s exactly what they were about to do. “Should I have worn the slacks?”

“You’re supposed to be comfortable and not care what anyone thinks.”

“Some places have a dress code, and it isn’t sweats.”

Maizie said, “You look fine. Those are your nicest door-kicking pants.”

Kenna figured this confusing conversation was probably par for the course with a teenager. Maizie developing her own—sometimes strong—opinions about the adults in her life was a very good thing. No matter what, she would take every drop of normalcy she could.

“I’m going to wear that dress to get married.”

Maizie grinned. “I can’t wait to see Jax’s face.”

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