Page 89 of More Than a Hero
There, in the doorway, stood Pete.
His shirtsleeves were rolled to his forearms, and his hair was pushed back as though his fingers had just been dragging through it. Something in his expression made her breath catch. He hadn’t said a word yet, just stood there, arms folded looselyacross his chest, eyes scanning the room full of kids and elders bent in gentle concentration.
Then Tony spotted him. “Mr. Pete! You made it!”
David grinned. “We’re basically chair yoga champions now.”
Pete chuckled and stepped inside, the sound like a ripple in still water. “That so?”
Angie reached across the empty chair beside her and patted the seat, eyebrows raised in challenge. “Have a seat, Detective. You might learn something.”
He hesitated just long enough for the boys to start goading him, then gave her that slow, sideways grin that never failed to make her stomach flutter. He dropped into the chair with a grunt and rolled his shoulders, mock serious. “Alright. Show me what you got.”
The instructor, never one to waste a teaching moment, added a final stretch to the session, this one just for him. Pete did his best to mimic the move, but his long limbs and not-so-flexible frame betrayed him, earning chuckles from both kids and elders alike.
Easy, genuine laughter bubbled up around the room. It was the kind of expression that came when people felt safe and connected. Angie glanced sideways at Pete. Their eyes met across the heads of giggling boys and beaming seniors.
He mouthed, “Thank you.”
She didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. The smile she gave him said everything.
35
JIMMY
The tires of Jimmy’s bike hissed against the sidewalk as he and Robert coasted the last stretch toward the Careway complex. A few gulls screamed overhead, circling lazily in the pale blue sky. The afternoon sun glinted off the windows of the low brick buildings, but Jimmy barely noticed. He was too focused on the tight feeling in his chest, the way it always hit him when they rounded that last bend near Mr. Marty’s.
Robert rode beside him, quiet, looking ahead, his expression unusually tense. That was when Jimmy saw it. The black sedan.
It sat in the parking lot like it belonged there, polished and sleek. Its presence twisted something in Jimmy’s gut. He coasted to a slow stop and put a foot down near the edge of the sidewalk, eyes narrowing.
“There it is,” he muttered. “That’s the car.”
Robert braked beside him, gaze flicking toward the vehicle. “You sure?”
“Yeah. He’s been by a couple of times to see Mr. Marty.” Jimmy’s voice dropped. “But I don’t like him. He gives me that… bad feeling.” As if summoned, the front door of the building creaked open.
Jimmy tensed. Tamarcus stepped into view, striding up the walkway like he owned the place. His black cap was pulled low, and the glint of a chain caught in the sunlight as he moved. He rapped on Mr. Marty’s door twice, then grabbed the doorknob and walked right in.
Jimmy’s mouth went dry. “That ain’t right.”
“Duck down,” Robert hissed, already dragging his bike behind the overgrown hedge beside the building. Jimmy followed, heart pounding. They crouched low, out of sight, the muffled slam of the door still ringing in their ears.
Robert kept his head down. “That’s him.”
Jimmy blinked. “What?”
Robert’s voice dropped to a whisper. “That’s the guy I saw with Lashawn.”
Jimmy turned sharply. “Lashawn?”
“The one who was driving when I was with him. The one who wrecked his car with all that stuff in it.”
“Oh shit, man,” Jimmy cursed, his chest heaving as worry began to slither through him.
Robert nodded once. “Same guy. I didn’t know his name then. But I saw Tamarcus with him… kinda hanging in the background. I thought maybe he was under Lashawn.”
Jimmy stared at him, stunned.
