The Trapped Girl (Tracy Crosswhite #4)(88)

“We were talking about it last night. Dan wants a traditional wedding.”

Kins made a face. “You mean like a priest and a church and all that pomp and circumstance?”

“Pretty much, though I’ve told him I want to get married at the Alki Point Lighthouse.”

“Can you do that?”

“Apparently. That’s where he proposed.”

“Nice,” Kins said. “You know that guy is making the rest of us look bad. Don’t tell Shannah.”

“Too late. Why, how did you propose?”

“My last college game, I walked to the stands where she was waiting, and instead of kissing her, I dropped to a knee.”

“Please don’t tell me you had the ring in your pants.”

“Football pants don’t have pockets.”

“I know.”

Kins laughed. “No. Her sister held it for me.”

“So what’s wrong with that?”

“I didn’t think anything was wrong with it. Shannah thinks I did it because with 60,000 fans watching she couldn’t turn me down.”

Tracy laughed. “Dan wants me to wear a wedding dress and have someone give me away.”

Kins nodded, clearly thinking that statement through. “You given that any thought?”

“A little bit. I have a question to ask you.”

“Fire away,” Kins said, now smiling.

“Do you think Faz would do it?”

“Fuck you, Crosswhite.” He laughed, then suddenly sat up and started the car. “There’s our boy.”

Strickland bounded down two wood steps in straight-leg jeans and a fashionable long-sleeve shirt with the cuffs rolled up and tail hanging out. He slid into the Porsche, fired up the engine with a roar, and peeled out of the driveway onto the street, as if in a hurry.

“Everything is for show with this guy, isn’t it?” Kins said, following at a safe distance.

Strickland drove west, made a couple of turns, and crossed the Ross Island Bridge.

“You think he’s heading home?” Tracy asked.

“Don’t know. Right direction, though,” Kins said. “Receptionist said he had an appointment?”

“That’s what she said.”

Strickland exited just after crossing the bridge. He took surface streets along the Willamette River then quickly pulled to the curb. Kins slid behind a parked car. They watched Strickland exit the Porsche and walk toward the waterfront.

“I hope he’s not another one of those people who likes to walk on their lunch hour,” Kins said.

“Not in those shoes,” Tracy said.

Strickland disappeared beneath a brown awning and entered a restaurant called Three Degrees.

“You hungry?” Tracy asked.

“I am now,” Kins said, pushing out of the car.

They ignored the ma?tre d’, telling the young woman they were meeting someone for lunch, and found Strickland seated beneath an umbrella at a table on the patio. He had his head down, fingers moving rapidly across the keypad of his cell phone.

Strickland looked up expectantly when Tracy pulled out the chair to his right. His smile quickly faded to confusion, then concern.

“What are you doing here?” Strickland’s gaze flicked between Kins and Tracy. His cheeks flushed.

Tracy sat. “We came to tell you good news, Mr. Strickland. Your wife is not the woman in the crab pot.”

“I already know that,” Strickland said. “It was all over the news. And my attorney called to let me know.”

Kins shrugged at Tracy. “Looks like we drove a long way for nothing.”

“I would have thought the news would have made you happy,” Tracy said.

“Not really,” Strickland said. “She’s still missing, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, there’s that,” Kins said.

“I’ve already talked to you about this,” Strickland said, dropping his gaze back to his cell phone.

“We’re not here to talk about your wife,” Tracy said, keeping her tone informal. “We came to ask you a few questions about Devin Chambers.”

At the mention of the name, Strickland’s fingers paused on the keypad.

“You do know her, don’t you?” Tracy asked.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Strickland raised his gaze. “Of course I know her,” he said, calm. “She was a friend of Andrea’s.”

“How close were they?” Tracy asked, deciding to play him for a bit.

Strickland sat back and crossed his legs, leaving his phone on the table. The canvas of the umbrella rippled in the breeze, sounding like a sail catching the wind. “I don’t really know. She and Devin worked together.”

“How much time did they spend together outside of work?”

“I really couldn’t say for certain. Andrea didn’t go out much after work. She was an introvert.”

“How did she spend her time?”

“Reading. She read all the time.”

“What was your relationship to Devin Chambers?” Tracy asked.

“I didn’t have one,” Strickland said, his demeanor still relaxed.

Lightning crackled, a blue-white fork in the distance. Seconds later came another clap of thunder.