DRAGON
WALK
Book 5 of the Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud Mystery Series
Melissa Bowersock
Copyright © 2017 by Melissa Bowersock
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in an online review or one printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.
First Printing
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover image by coversbydesign.net.
ISBN-13: 978-1978478596
ISBN-10: 1978478593
DEDICATION
This is a no-brainer. I’d like to dedicate this book to my faithful and very vocal readers who love Sam and Lacey as much as I do. I really thought the series was done at Book 4: Dream Walk. Guess again. With a little prodding from readers, plus a nudge from my savvy good friend and fellow author, K.S. Brooks, I began rolling ideas around in my mind and—voila! New book. And I’m so glad. I think this just might be the best S&L book yet. But you never know.
Stay tuned.
Books by Melissa Bowersock
The Appaloosa Connection
The Blue Crystal
Burning Through
Finding Travis
(No Time for Travis Series Book 1)
Being Travis
(No Time for Travis Series Book 2)
Fleischerhaus
Ghost Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 1)
Skin Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 2)
Star Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 3)
Dream Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 4)
Dragon Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 5)
Demon Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 6)
Goddess Rising
Lightning Strikes
Love’s Savage Armpit by Amber Flame
(Originally published as The Pits of Passion)
The Man in the Black Hat
Marcia Gates: Angel of Bataan
Queen’s Gold
The Rare Breed
Remember Me
Sonnets for Heidi
Stone’s Ghost
Superstition Gold
DRAGON
WALK
Melissa Bowersock
ONE
Lacey sighed.
She reached mechanically for the next resume atop the pile beside her laptop and started another background check. This engineering firm certainly looked at a lot of applicants, but she supposed that any government contractor that built missiles and bombs had to. Aside from the usual gamut of ex-felons and borderline mental health cases, now there were would-be terrorists thrown into the mix as well. It was all job security for her, but oh so boring.
Such was the life of a private investigator. Days on end of background checks or serving subpoenas, punctuated by fewer, more interesting cases that required her to get out of the apartment and actually investigate someone. An errant husband, a religious cult leader, a greedy slumlord. Something like that would be infinitely more exciting than this endless computer work.
She shoved the laptop aside and sat back in her chair, rotating her right shoulder carefully. It had been just over a month since she was shot there by drug dealers in Vegas. The physical therapy was helping to keep the muscles supple while keeping the scar tissue from building up. She had very little pain anymore, just aches if she overdid. It was a good reminder to keep her dogged work ethic in check.
And of course it was a constant reminder of Sam.
Her phone rang and she checked the screen. Shirley So, assistant to Captain Shaw at the LAPD. She’d promised Shirley they’d do lunch; maybe this was a good time. She liked staying up on things with her ex-coworkers.
“Hi, Shirley. How are you?”
“Hey, Lacey, I’m fine. How are you doing?”
“Just great,” she lied.
“The shoulder healing up?”
“Oh, yeah. It aches now and then, but overall it’s good.” She flexed her arm as she spoke.
“That’s great.” Shirley’s voice dropped to a more serious level. “I actually have another reason for calling, although I am glad to hear you’re on the mend.”
“Oh?” Lacey sat up straighter in her chair. “What’s going on?”
“The captain would like to talk to you. Hang on just a sec and I’ll have him pick up.”
The line went dead for a moment, then clicked.
“Lacey?” The familiar bass voice created an image in her mind of the large black man who used to be her boss.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m good, sir. Thanks. What’s up?”
“That’s my girl,” he chuckled. “No nonsense. You been following the Madison McClure case?”
“The young woman who disappeared near Griffith Park? Sure. You get a break in it?”
“Unfortunately no. We don’t know any more now than we did four months ago when we started.”
Lacey’s forehead crinkled with perplexity. “You have no suspects?”
“No. We have two persons of interest. Well, two and a half. Her current boyfriend, Greg Lamb, and her ex-boyfriend, Brad Foley. Lamb looks pretty clean, but Foley’s had a checkered past. Still, nothing that leads us anywhere.”
“You said two and a half,” Lacey reminded him.
“Yeah. Corey Erickson, a friend she’s known since first grade. He was the last one to see her alive.”
“What about her parents?” Lacey asked.
“Clean, as near as we can find. They’re actually the ones who suggested I call you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” Shaw heaved a sigh. “We got nothing, Lacey. No leads, no witnesses, no physical evidence, nothing. She went jogging and disappeared into thin air.”
She waited. She had the distinct feeling he was unhappy for more reasons than this.
“And…?” she prompted.
“Lacey, you know my job is more than protecting the public and solving crimes. I also have to protect the LAPD. It’s my job to make sure we do things by the book, by the rule of law, and we don’t stray into any gray areas.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So it goes against my grain to do this, but do you think you and Sam could come take a look? You know I mean no disrespect. I know you two are on the level, but it’s this issue of public perception.”
“I understand, sir,” she said. “You said the McClures asked for us?”
“Yeah. And they’ve fully agreed to take responsibility and to pay whatever your fee is. That’s the only reason I’ve approved this. You’ll be working for them, not the LAPD. I just want to make sure that’s clear up front, and that we maintain a separation between you and Sam, and the LAPD. I don’t want this thing to turn into a circus.”
Lacey smiled grimly. “Believe me, sir, I hear you loud and clear on that.”
Shaw barked a laugh. “Been there, done that, right?”
“Right.” Neither of them needed to be reminded of the media circus that grew up around the conviction of her former boyfriend—a vice cop—and pushed her to leave the force. Neither of them wanted a repeat.
Shaw sobered. “So what do you say, Lace? You and Sam want to take a crack at it?”
>
“Absolutely, sir. If there’s anything to be found, Sam can find it.”
“I know he can. All right, here’s the number of the McClures. They’re expecting your call.” He read off the number for Lacey to jot down.
“I’ll call Sam first to make sure there’s no conflict,” she said, “then call them.”
“Fine. I’d, uh, appreciate it if you’d keep me in the loop, but…”
“Discreetly. Yes, sir. You can count on me.”
“I know I can, Lace. Thanks for doing this. I don’t mind telling you, if you can save my butt on this, you’ll have my undying gratitude.”
Lacey chuckled. “Happy to help, sir. I’ll keep you posted.”
~~~
TWO
She keyed off the call but kept the phone in her hand. And blew out a breath.
It’d been three days since she’d moved back into her own apartment. Three days since she’d seen or talked to Sam. Three days that she’d turned their situation over and over in her mind.
It had seemed an ideal setup. She needed some care with her injured arm; he was willing to do that. They both felt ready to take their relationship to the next level. She loved him. She knew he loved her.
So why couldn’t they make it work? Her throat tightened at the plaintive question, as it had every time she asked.
She’d gone over the problem areas time after time. Sam’s insistence on doing everything for her; so sweet, and yet every time he did that, she felt like a child: incapable, unable, weak. She hadn’t reached the age of thirty-three by being a shrinking violet. She’d lived alone a lot of years, been a cop for eight of those years, and could take care of herself. Why couldn’t he understand that?
And why couldn’t she let him take care of her, just for a little while?
They’d reached an impasse in less than three weeks. Their conversations became strained, their lovemaking awkward. The day she’d announced she was moving back to her own place, he’d been silent. Agreeable but silent. They’d accomplished the move with a bare minimum of words.
So here she sat, phone in hand, and she had absolutely no idea how to talk to him.
Sam, Sam, Sam. She sighed his name in her mind. She knew the stoic Navajo like few others. The leanly muscular body; the dark eyes that glittered like obsidian, although she had seen them soft as black velvet, too; the quick mind; the otherworldly sensitivity that allowed him to connect with anguished spirits. He was so many things, all of which she loved, all of which she couldn’t have.
“All right,” she said to herself out loud. “Enough of that. There’s a job to be done.” Flexing her right shoulder, she dialed Sam’s number.
Three rings… four. Would he let it go to voice mail? Maybe he was more hurt than she thought.
“Lacey.” His voice was low, but matter-of-fact. No inflection, neither pleasure at hearing from her nor petulance.
“Hi, Sam.” She kept her own voice casual. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I got a call from Captain Shaw a bit ago. He’d like us to work on a job for him.”
There was silence for a heartbeat—that probably was not what he’d expected to hear—but then he was all attention. “What job?”
“Do you remember that woman jogger that disappeared near Griffith Park about four months ago? Madison McClure?”
“Yeah. I haven’t heard much about it lately, though.”
“That’s because they haven’t been able to find anything,” Lacey said. “Captain Shaw said they’ve got absolute zip. The woman’s parents have asked for us to be brought in. I, uh, I told the captain we’d do it. I hope that’s okay.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Of course it is. But, is there any evidence of spirit? Is anyone seeing her, feeling her?”
Normally Sam was called in when spirits, ghosts—whatever people called them—were making homes unlivable or ruining businesses. On cases like those, he and Lacey knew from the start that a tethered spirit was involved, and their task was then to find out why and release the agonized soul. This one was different.
“Not that the captain mentioned. It sounds like they’re pretty much grasping at straws, hoping for any kind of break in the case.”
“Huh.” He took a moment to think about that. “There’s no guarantee we’ll find anything,” he said finally.
“I’m sure they’re aware of that,” Lacey said gently. “And we can make sure they know. Still, I think we ought to give it a try.”
He exhaled heavily. “Yeah, I think we should, too,” he said. “When?”
“I’ll call them and set it up. When is good for you?” Sam worked construction, but sometimes took off from his day job to take on serious cases with Lacey.
“Any day,” he said, surprising her. “The sooner the better. If they’ve been in limbo for four months… that’s too long.”
“Yeah.” She couldn’t imagine the hell those parents had been through. “Okay, I’ll call them and set up a meeting. Call you back when I know.”
She expected to hear his agreement, but got nothing but silence.
Sam?” she asked softly. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” The word sounded forced.
“All right.” She backed off, but then couldn’t stifle the heartbreaking sadness that welled up. “I miss you.”
Breathing.
“I miss you, too, Lacey.”
A lump rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down. “I’ll talk to you later.”
She took a break before calling the McClures. It wouldn’t do to let her own raw emotions leak through while they tried to contain theirs. She got up, fixed herself a glass of iced tea, sipped it as she stared out the sliding glass door at her miniscule back yard.
At least he wasn’t freezing her out. She’d wondered these past three days what his silence meant—pain, anger, giving her space? Any of those would have been reasonable responses to her leaving. But even now, after talking to him, she still didn’t know.
Well, no matter. They had a job to do.
She called the McClures.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice.
“Mrs. McClure?”
“Yes. Who’s calling?”
“Ma’am, this is Lacey Fitzpatrick. I got a call from Captain Shaw of the LAPD that you’d like my partner and me to look into your daughter’s disappearance.”
“Oh, yes. You’re the medium?”
“Actually, ma’am, my partner is the medium. Sam Firecloud.”
“That’s right. I remember his name, now. Yes, I’d like that very much. Can we meet and talk about it?”
“Absolutely,” Lacey said. “What’s a good time for you?”
“Let me see. Tomorrow doesn’t work. What about Friday? Can you come over about eleven that morning?”
“Yes. What’s the address?” Lacey wrote it down as Mrs. McClure recited it. Toluca Lake; nice area, she thought. “All right, we’ll be there.”
Mrs. McClure hesitated. “Do you think you can find my daughter?”
Lacey chose her words carefully. “I’m not sure; we won’t know until we talk with you and go to some of the places she frequented. But we’ll do everything we possibly can.”
“A-all right. I’m just so hoping…”
Lacey heard it in her voice. Hope and despair. “I understand. We’ll do our very best to find her. I promise you that.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. McClure breathed. “Then we’ll see you Friday.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll see you then.”
She ended the call and dropped heavily onto the couch. She had the distinct feeling that some of the weight that Mrs. McClure had been carrying had now been transferred to her own shoulders.
It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.
She blew out a breath and called Sam, keeping it brief and professional.
Then she went into cop mode.
~~~
THREE
First she reacquainted herself with the news articles about Madison McClure. Single white woman, twenty
-six years old, had been half owner of a boutique jewelry store in Los Feliz. Jogger and marathoner, she was training for the Griffith Park Run, a half marathon coming up in January, six months away.
Jotting the facts down in her notebook, Lacey got a feel for the woman. Capable, independent, ambitious. Someone I could be friends with, she thought. The news photos showed a pretty girl with a ready smile, shoulder-length brown hair and wide blue eyes. She wore a pendant with a gold dragon coiled around a moonstone. A small dragon tattoo adorned her upper arm. She’d been homecoming queen in her senior year of high school.
“Okay,” Lacey said, nodding to herself. She pored more deeply over the longer articles. On March 25, Madison had gone jogging as was her daily habit. Boyfriend Greg Lamb said she left their apartment in Los Feliz at six a.m. for Griffith Park. She regularly trained for at least an hour, running or jogging the trails of the wilderness park. The park, Lacey knew, was huge—thousands of acres of mountains and canyons, covered with scrub, oak and walnut trees, riddled with caves and only partly gentrified with golf courses, the LA Zoo and the observatory. She checked the stats: fifty-three miles of hiking and bridle trails.
Plenty of isolated areas with plenty of cover for an ambush.
Last person to see her alive was Corey Erickson, longtime friend who trained with her frequently. He’d met her at the parking area only to tell her he couldn’t run that day. He lived with his mother and she’d been ill. So Madison had trained alone.
Lacey found video of an interview with Corey. Tall, lanky guy, flyaway brown hair and puppy dog brown eyes. He was distraught. He wore a t-shirt with Madison’s photo on it, the caption above the picture saying Have you seen me?
“I should have gone with her,” he croaked, barely keeping tears in check. “I shouldn’t have let her go alone.” The camera remained on him for several seconds as he struggled to keep his composure, then finally faded to black.
Dragon Walk Page 1
