The Trapped Girl (Tracy Crosswhite #4)(87)

“Things happen,” she said softly. “Dreams change.” She moved to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m happy I have the man of my dreams.”

“And I’m happy with the woman of my dreams,” he said, “but there’s no reason you can’t have the fairy-tale wedding of your dreams too.”

She took a deep breath. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

He nodded. “I really have. Look, I don’t want to say I feel bad for you because I know how much you love to be pitied, but I do feel bad for you. I feel bad that you had to go through everything you’ve gone through. I feel bad that it all happened on the night you got engaged, and that you never had the wedding of your dreams.”

His comment made her think again of Andrea Strickland and her horrible life, regardless of whether she was alive, or deceased. Tracy knew, as much as anyone, there were no guarantees in life. Tomorrow was not a given.

She kissed him. “Is that the reason for the lighthouse and the restaurant—the fairy tale?”

He shrugged and smiled, close lipped.

“Because you are truly a prince.”

“Still masculine, though, right? Not the tights-wearing prince who sings and dances.”

She laughed. “Definitely still masculine. Okay,” she said, “but if we’re going for the full-blown fantasy I do have a request.”

“Fire away, Cinderella.”

“How much pull do you have with that Coast Guard commander?”

“You want to get married at the lighthouse?”

“Unless you have access to a castle.”

“I think it will be perfect,” Dan said. “And I just so happen to know that they do allow weddings.”

She chuckled. “You looked into it already.”

Dan feigned ignorance. “Like I said, you deserve the fairy-tale wedding.”

She kissed him warmly, again, and could feel their bodies relaxing into each another. “Dan,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Turn off the grill so the hamburgers don’t burn.”

“I thought you were starving.”

“I am, but now I’m starving for something better than hamburger.”





CHAPTER 27


The following morning, Tracy and Kins were once again traveling south on the I-5 freeway to Portland. They had worked late putting together a probable-cause affidavit to search Strickland’s Pearl District loft, where he had lived with Andrea and apparently remained. Kins had transmitted the affidavit to Detective Jonathan Zhu in Portland. After talking with Strickland, they would accompany Zhu to a local judge to get a warrant issued. They had no idea what they might find in the apartment, if anything, but stranger things had happened, and it was a stone neither felt comfortable leaving unturned.

Kins had also asked Zhu to run Devin Chambers through Portland’s system. Zhu sent back an e-mail with attachments, and Tracy reviewed them on the three-hour drive south.

“She had two prior arrests in New Jersey in her early twenties, one for check fraud, and another for obtaining prescriptions from doctors under false pretenses. Both were expunged.”

“Sounds like her sister had her pegged,” Kins said.

Chambers spent thirty days in a “sober-living house” and had been required to attend AA meetings. Her compliance had expunged her file. Nothing in her bank statements or on her credit card or cell phone records indicated she’d recently come into money, or that she was preparing to flee the country. In fact, she had no savings and very little in her checking account. It wouldn’t come close to paying off her considerable credit card debt, all of which was also in accord with what her sister had described.

This time, Tracy and Kins did not call ahead to ask Phil Montgomery’s permission to speak to Strickland. Instead, Tracy called the law firm where Strickland now worked, and posed as a potential client hoping to set up a meeting. Strickland’s assistant advised that Strickland had interviews in the office all morning, and a lunch meeting out of the office, but said he could meet with her at 3:00 p.m. Tracy said she’d get back to her and hung up.

With cell phones, it was always possible Strickland could still call his lawyer, tell Tracy and Kins to go piss in a pool, and sit mute. Tracy sensed that would not be the case. She had the same feeling about Strickland that Stan Fields had shared. Strickland believed he was smarter than everybody, and he would think he could run circles around them. Tracy was counting on that arrogance.

The law firm where Strickland worked was in a converted one-story house in a mixed residential and commercial neighborhood. Most of the buildings had bars on the windows and metal gates protecting the front doors.

“My how the mighty have fallen,” Kins said.

“Maybe not that far.” Tracy pointed out Strickland’s cherry-red Porsche parked in the home’s driveway.

“Why doesn’t he just put a ‘Steal Me’ sign on the windshield and be done with it?” Kins said.

Kins parked across the street in a spot where they could view the car. Though it remained warm, eighty-eight degrees, the sky had begun to cloud over and to darken. A breeze rustled the leaves of the trees along the block.

“You and Dan made any plans for the wedding?” Kins asked as they settled in to wait.