The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 4-6: Redemption Thriller Series 10-12 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set)

by John W. Mefford

  “I get it. Sounds like me when I started ECHO. I had no idea what I was doing or, really, how to even run a business.”

  “I just don’t want to let down my parents. They’ve supported me a lot, loaned me the money to start the firm. Momma thinks I’m on my way to being the next state attorney general.”

  His mother. Wow, she was a piece of work. Lots of history there. But we’d learned to coexist, even if I wasn’t the girl she had in mind to be her son’s significant other. So I understood the pressure he felt to succeed, even if it was unspoken.

  “They loaned you some money; that doesn’t mean they own you or your first born.” I didn’t think before I spoke. Having children was a topic we never really talked about. Why? I wasn’t exactly sure. I loved kids and hoped to have a couple of my own someday. Saul had a big family with plenty of nephews and nieces running around. So I had no reason to believe he didn’t want kids. The more I thought about it, the issue regarding kids had less to do with us individually and more to do with us together. To discuss kids would mean we were close to putting a label on our relationship. And to me, that was pressure.

  “Hey, I need to get over to the community center. Just picked up a new case on a missing teen, and I need to talk to Stan.”

  “Didn’t you have a case like this about a month ago? If I remember it correctly, the parents and the kid got in a big fight, the kid took off, and they finally found him in Los Angeles. Said he wanted to be an actor.”

  I’d forgotten about it, probably because we’d been so busy lately, and it had taken all of about two hours of my time before we found out what had gone down. The kid’s best friend stepped forward and shared everything, including where to find his friend in LA. I could only hope for a similar outcome with Mia—friend steps forward, Mia is found safe and sound. I gave Saul the twenty-second recap, then put a hand on the door. “Gotta run.”

  “Oh, crap, I knew I needed to tell you something.”

  He hurried over to a chair and picked up his phone then rushed back over. “That PI we hired to try to find your birth parents contacted me.”

  My stomach instantly did a flip-flop. “What did she find out?”

  “Well, for starters, she says she tried to reach you, but you didn’t respond.”

  “Sorry if I missed it. Been busy. So…?”

  He moved his thumb across the screen. “Says in her text that she’s making good headway and has followed up on several leads.”

  I waited for more, then I realized I wasn’t breathing. I inhaled and pushed out a breath. “And?”

  “And the retainer you put down…she’s burned through all of those hours.”

  “She needs more money before she’ll tell me anything?”

  One of the contractors looked in my direction. I’d spoken a little louder than I meant to.

  “She didn’t say that exactly. Just that she’s making good progress and has more leads. I think this is good news, Ivy.”

  I’d given her three grand up front, which had cleaned out my savings account. We’d had a pretty good two-month run, but writing four-figure checks wasn’t something I could do on a routine basis. “She has my credit card number. If she’s getting close, then tell her to charge that.”

  Saul tapped his phone against his opposite hand and walked back over to me. “I could hold off on opening up my law office and then I could help you out.”

  “Hell no, mister. You’re going to open this office within two weeks or you’re cut off.”

  “Cut off?” He chuckled.

  “Well, I’m not sure I could follow through on that threat,” I said, leaning in for a quick smooch. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll figure something out. But nothing is going to stop you from leaving that firm and starting your own.”

  “I just want to be able to help. I know how much it means to you to find your parents, or at least find out what happened to them.”

  He was right, but I rarely went there. I’d end up in tears, and loads of self-doubt would come out of nowhere to consume me. Nope. I wasn’t going to let that happen.

  “If it’s meant to be, it will happen.”

  He took me by my waist and breathed against my neck. Then he said, “One day soon, when we’re alone, we’ll have to break in my new office.”

  “Pop its cherry, so to speak?” I put a hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle.

  “I could tell them to take an early lunch?”

  I leaned back and arched an eyebrow. “Down, boy.” I swung open the door. “Let me know today when you put in your notice, and then we’ll talk.”

  A moment later, I was back out in the cold, wishing for a coat.

  7

  By the time I’d walked the remaining three blocks, my face was sufficiently numb—a weather anomaly in San Antonio if there ever was one. Once inside the community center, it was nice and toasty. And crowded. With kids out of school for the day, the place was brimming with action.

  “Excuse me, Miss, may I help you?”

  It was a girl, maybe college age, wearing the purple shirt that indicated she worked there. “Just looking for someone I know,” I said, craning my neck to glance around. I suddenly felt her practically right up against me, and I pulled back. “I’m sorry?” That was my way of telling her she was invading my personal space.

  “It’s just that we have a strict policy that everyone needs to sign in and put on a wristband. It’s our way of keeping it a safe space.” She bobbled up and down. Everything about her seemed to be round—her head full of curls, her cheeks, even her face in general.

  I didn’t push back. I signed my name and held out my wrist while still searching for Stan.

  “It’s one of Dr. Amaya’s most important policies. So, thank you for not making a big deal about it. Some people can be—”

  “Real assholes?”

  She giggled and shrugged her shoulders.

  It had been a while since I’d visited the facility. I had a lot of horrific memories from this place, back while it was under construction with its previous owner, who also happened to be a psychotic killer. He’d gone to great lengths to lure me into his twisted funhouse. The experience nearly made me a mental vegetable. I almost died a half-dozen times. To make it even worse, that was when Stan had lost his arm and Cristina had been essentially skewered, almost losing her life to kidney failure.

  Once we all had escaped with our lives and the killer had been sent off to prison, Dr. Amaya told me about his vision: to renovate the entire facility into more of a community center and to name it after his late daughter, Mandy. He’d actually asked me if I was okay with it, knowing the torture I’d been put through in the building. I figured it was a whole lot better to make something good out of the nightmare, although I knew I’d never forget what had happened to me.

  I heard someone calling my name, and I turned to see Stan, or was it half of Stan? After ballooning to something north of three hundred pounds, he’d dedicated himself to changing his lifestyle, from his diet to working out. It had been a few weeks since I’d seen him.

  “Did you lose another ten pounds?”

  “Actually, since you saw me last, I’ve dropped thirteen pounds. But who’s counting?” He had lost so much weight, even his voice sounded different.

  I gave him a hug with a couple of slaps on the back. I could feel his prosthesis against my back. I made no mention of it because he didn’t make a big deal of it. Sure, after his arm was severed by that lunatic, he went through his five stages of grief. But once he got past it and concentrated on his training, he was as focused as I’d ever seen him…and that included whenever he consumed a candy bar, which used to be about five or six times a day.

  “And you’re still on target for the Dallas Marathon in a month?”

  “Yup. The goal is to qualify for Boston next April. So I’m working out like a crazy person. Just ask Bev. She’s not thrilled when the alarm goes off at five a.m. and I get out of bed, have my bowl of fruit, then go on my morning jog.
But she’s happy with the results as much as I am. I finish up my day with a light jog in the evenings whenever I can.”

  “Going with two-a-days, huh? You’re in beast mode.”

  “Gotta be if I hope to put in a good time next month. Finishing a marathon is one thing—something I never even dreamed about before you guys got my butt moving. But qualifying for Boston won’t be easy.”

  “How many miles this morning?”

  “Ten miles at a pace of nine minutes a mile.”

  “Not bad, old man.”

  “I’ll do anything to beat Nick.”

  Nick was his cousin. They were born and raised in Brooklyn and shared many qualities, including their accents and the fact that they were both training to run in the Boston Marathon. They loved to razz each other, which I guessed gave them both incentive to outdo the other. Nick, though, had the head start. When I first met him back in the summer, he was already in good shape, a special agent with the FBI.

  I saw Bev off in the distance working with their son, Ethan. He was autistic, but despite his issues with connecting with others, they were a close family. The center had a program that helped autistic kids and their parents connect on a different level by working together on creative projects.

  “You mentioned a missing girl in your text,” Stan said, waving his fake arm in front of my face until I turned my sights back to him. “How long has she been missing?”

  I recited the basic facts of what I’d gathered from the Romeros, including the reason why they were reluctant to go to authorities.

  “I don’t care where they were born. You said she’s been missing for less than twenty-four hours, though. Too soon to worry?”

  “I realize she could have just gotten pissed and run off for a day, but so far nothing has turned up. Her parents called a few friends, and officials at her high school talked to a handful of fellow students. No one has any information. Mia would have had to walk out of school in the middle of the day. Someone must have seen it. Or at least someone must have known about it. She was too well-known.”

  “What do you think of the parents?”

  “They’re under a lot of stress, as you can imagine. I thought the dad was about to have a heart attack in my office.”

  Stan looked in the direction of Bev and Ethan, stroking his 1970s mustache, which meant he was thinking.

  “So, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

  He turned my way, and I gave him a forced smile.

  “This wouldn’t be the first,” he said.

  “And let’s be honest, it probably won’t be the last. But you have to admit, I’ve tried to return a few to make it even.”

  “True. We are a pretty good team,” he said. “Even though I’m forced to bend the rules on occasion. That’s not what we’re talking about here, right?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Not really. I just need you to put a little pressure on the school to review the school tapes as quickly as possible, that’s all.”

  “If they don’t want to do it, then it might take a warrant. But, frankly, if it takes a whole lot of pressure and I need to talk to the bigwigs at the school district office, then I’d look like an ass if we didn’t have an open investigation. See my quandary here?”

  He wanted the Romeros to file a missing persons report. “Stan, they’re beyond nervous. If for some crazy reason they get deported and they don’t have Mia with them, it will crush them. Actually, crush is probably putting it lightly. I’m not sure they’ll want to live anymore. So, this is one of those life-or-death things on many levels, for Mia and her parents.”

  He released a grunt that sounded a little like the cry of a baby whale—I’d watched a documentary recently on how whales communicate.

  “If you show up, flash your badge, remind them of the importance of maintaining a partnership with law enforcement, I’m sure they’ll do anything you ask. If I do it, they’ll tell me to take a number.”

  He checked his watch. Again, I was floored. He’d even lost “weight” in his wrist! It was like someone had pulled the plug on the balloon, and he’d returned to his normal size. I wondered now how he’d been able to hold up all that extra weight.

  “I’m off until noon, but I suppose you need me to do this now.”

  “You’re a mind reader, Stan, what can I—” Before I got out the last word, something slammed into my back, and I stumbled forward.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  It was Cristina, standing there with her skateboard flipped over next to her.

  “Don’t you know how to control that thing?”

  “I always forget about the slide factor on this industrial carpet.”

  Stan stepped away, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and took a call as the girl in the purple shirt from earlier hopped into our space. “Cristina, I must remind you that Dr. Amaya has said no one is allowed to ride their skateboards inside the facility. If you do this again, we might have to reconsider your all-access privileges.”

  Cristina did one of her infamous eye rolls, but said, “I get it. No worries.”

  My eyes shifted to Stan. By the look on his face, it didn’t appear to be a friendly call.

  The girl in the purple shirt bounced away, and I moved closer to Cristina. “What happened to the plan of you staying at the office with Raul and Consuela?”

  “They bailed.”

  “What? Why?”

  “They finished their list. It’s about forty or fifty deep. Then they said they were meeting some cousins to start putting up flyers with Mia’s picture on them.”

  “It’s a good idea. A grassroots approach.”

  “Hoping they get lucky that someone saw something.”

  I felt a rock forming in my gut. “Dammit, it shouldn’t take luck. She was in school and then she wasn’t.” I saw Stan still on his call, wiping a hand across his face. I addressed Cristina again. “I’m hoping that once Stan pays a visit to the school, and they review the tapes, we’ll have a much clearer view of at least when she left, what exit she left from, and if anyone was with her.”

  “You think she just took off with a boy toy?”

  “That would be a best-case scenario at this point,” I said, knowing that type of behavior was in stark contrast to how Raul and Consuela described their daughter. But sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants, and parents may very well be the last to know, even in families who were tight-knit.

  Stan stepped back toward us. “Lee High School. That’s where Mia was last seen?”

  “Yep. If you’re ready to go, is it okay if I tag along?”

  “I now have an official reason to be at the school.” He blew out a breath, his beady eyes as wide as they could get.

  The rock in my gut suddenly doubled in size. “What is it?”

  “Two dead animals were found in the athletic building.”

  “Call animal control,” Cristina said. “Why bug the real cops?”

  “Because apparently it looks like the animals were killed in some sort of sacrificial ceremony.”

  “Say what?” Cristina asked before I could. “As in devil worshipping?”

  “Who the hell knows at this point? Just a couple of uniforms on the scene right now. I’ll know more once I get there. Kids with all of that social media stuff at their fingertips…well, this could blow up quickly, if it hasn’t already.”

  Stan ran off to say his goodbyes to his family, as Cristina and I walked back to the front of the building, my mind still reeling about what had been found at the high school. Mia disappeared yesterday and now there was an animal sacrifice—all relating to Lee High school. More than likely the crime occurred overnight, which meant that the two events occurred fairly close together. But were they related?

  A string of people began meandering out of a side room. I saw Dr. Amaya and a few other adults, but also a number of younger people, most under the age of twenty-one. The doctor nodded when he saw me and walked over. “So good to see you again, Ivy.”

&nbs
p; Every time I was around him now, he wore a smile. But that hadn’t always been the case. Early on, when I first met him—well, it was actually more just being in his presence from across a room—his stare had creeped me out. While his eyes had this odd glare about them, rarely blinking, he really had a much warmer vibe than I’d first thought. I knew it had everything to do with opening the community center to honor his daughter, who had worked with special needs kids in Austin.

  “The place is amazing, Doctor. Kids are happy. You’ve built something really special here.”

  “The MACC is the bomb,” Cristina added.

  “The MACC?”

  “Do I need to spell it out for you?” she asked, the palm of her hand turned to the ceiling.

  “Oh, you used the acronym. I get it. Must be a teen thing,” I said, trying to conjure up a smile.

  “Says the woman who started a company called ECHO.”

  Cristina just didn’t know when to stop. Sometimes I thought she was regressing in terms of her sassiness. But since it wasn’t directed at anyone else, especially a client, I let it go.

  “You look bothered by something, Ivy. Everything all right?”

  Dr. Amaya’s observation had caught me off guard, my thoughts lost in a sea of endless theories. “Who me? Pfft. It’s nothing.” I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was a former psychologist, so he was quite used to reading people.

  “You sure I can’t help?”

  “Honestly, it’s a new case we’re working. I’m just anxious.” I flipped around and saw Stan heading in our direction.

  Cristina added, “You wouldn’t believe this shit they found—”

  I reached out and grabbed her arm. “It’s nothing he needs to worry about, right?”

  She winced. “Yeah, I suppose.”

  I turned up my glare at Cristina.

  “It’s nothing, Doctor, really,” she said.

  I took a breath. The doctor must have sensed my unease, and he switched topics as Stan approached.

  “Leo doing okay?” he asked Cristina.