Page 98 of Luck Be Mine
Determined to preserve their night together, she kissed him over and over at the front door, then waved from the porch and blew him a kiss as he drove away.
“I do love you.” The words floated after the truck, Hunt no longer able to hear them. “But letting you go is still tough every time.” She’d forgotten to use her ‘no blood’ ritual or tell him to keep his head up.
Dragging in a rough breath, she sat on the steps by the pumpkins.
The backyard would forever be theirs.
But she was alone again on the front porch.
§§§§§§§§§§
◊ When Hope Becomes Strategy ◊
Mackey Reynolds parked blocks away from where he needed to be and grabbed the missing person’s red QM file from the seat. Find one homeless Army vet living in a city with thousands in similar circumstances.
“Needle. Haystack,” he muttered. “How hard could it be?”
San Diego was a mess of bases, businesses, and beaches. Home to the Navy’s Pacific Fleet, it had a significant concentration of active-duty service members and one of the largest veteran populations in the country. If Delaney was hiding, he picked the perfect city to vanish in. Even if he wasn’t hiding, the search would be difficult.
Mackey had six sisters – five for real, and one from the minute he gave her away to a SEAL at her wedding. The fire in Cait’s eyes when she talked about helping this man had lit a fuse in him, too. His ego puffed up, his Special Forces brain scoffed, and still he hadn’t said no. Because she’d whispered, “I know you don’t quit,” and the words struck like tinder to flame.
His phone rang. Quaid. He answered while he spread out Delaney’s DD-214. No California postings listed, and the guy was born and bred in Indianapolis. All his Army stations were in the Midwest and Southeast, his missions all in overseas war zones.
“What?” he growled, annoyance riding him. Loyal to the bone, he’d didn’t bitch about the job.
“Haven’t found him yet?”
“I’ve been on this less than twenty-four hours, so no. I haven’t found him. Do you have any idea how many places shelter homeless in this city? Not that I disagree, but it’s hell on a search. Send Remy and Connors my way.”
“Will do. Not at the address he gave the hospital?”
“No brainer.”
“Cait guessed. Where are you?”
“East Village. Downtown core. Not far from the VA hospital. There are tent lines everywhere.”
“What’s next?”
“Funny you should ask. I’m going to hit Mission Valley along the San Diego River next. He might be the type who goes more survivalist.”
“Feels removed. Hospital says he was picked up by the fire department paramedics in the East Village area.”
“He may roam, though. We’ll do a thorough sweep.” Mackey closed the folder. His military record wasn’t going to help them.
A man limped across the sidewalk with a cart full of recycling. Further along the street, a pit bull licked his chops, guarding a woman asleep against a brick building. The tents spread for blocks in a discordant array. The area reeked of pain and suffering.
Mackey’s father always used to tell him you couldn’t fix everything.
The Army taught him to try. Cait’s determination fueled the belief.
Paper rustled on Quaid’s end. In their offices, he had their search data on a board in front of him. Playboy couldn’t hit these homeless street without a significant disguise.
“He’s got a dead arm and hand like Cait’s was. Doesn’t strike me as a smart move to be hauling his stuff around all the time,” Quaid mused.
Mackey grabbed a peppermint from his console. Anything to halt his habit of grinding his teeth. “He’s also someone who stopped trusting the system. I don’t see him hanging here by all the social services. He won’t use them. Doesn’t play for me. I’d go where no one came looking.”
“Celissa checked all the formal shelters and called the churches. No luck. I put a call into Frank Walker at the PD. Waiting for him to get back to me.”
