Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(41)

“So this Cameron kid, did you get a last name?”

“No.”

“Do you know his mother’s name?”

“No.”

“Well, how old is he?”

“I’m not sure. Ten, I’m guessing.”

The guard handed Sean a visitor’s badge, and he clipped it to his jacket as he headed down the hall to the evidence room to check in his package. He’d ask Mia to bump it to the top of her list in the morning.

“Kaitlyn Spence,” Sean said. “I’d bet money on it.”

“Who’s that?”

“One of the two Java House baristas who went to Samantha’s funeral. The other one is only eighteen, so she couldn’t have a kid the age you’re describing. I’m betting Kaitlyn’s his mother.”

“Okay, but why was Cameron at Samantha’s house that night if the coffee shop was closed? His mother would have been home, right?”

“Hell if I know. We need to interview these people, like I said. Is she there now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she is. It’s a little house with a carport, but I don’t see any cars.”

“Is the kid there?”

“I think so. His dog was in the backyard, and I can see a TV on in the living room.”

“And you’re sure it’s him?”

“Yes, Sean. I matched the prints.”

“I’ll call Ric. Meantime—”

“Don’t tell me to go home. I’m not going anywhere until someone with a badge gets here. Wait, hang on.”

“What is it?”

“There’s a car pulling into the driveway. Just a sec.”

Sean gripped the phone. He hated her in the middle of this. “Brooke?”

“It’s his mom, I think. Tall and thin. Auburn hair. She’s wearing a brown apron, like she just got off work.”

“That’s Kaitlyn Spence. Let me get Ric over there to talk to her.”

“Someone needs to tell her what’s going on with her son.”

“We’ll take it from here. You stay out of it.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Brooke? We will handle it.”

“Fine, then hurry up and handle it.”

? ? ?

Kaitlyn Spence walked across the weedy lawn and up the steps to her door. The woman looked tired. Just like her house. Just like her car, which had dings on the side and was missing the back bumper. She let herself in without a key, and Brooke cringed as she realized Cameron had been sitting inside an unlocked house.

Brooke’s phone chirped as a text landed from Sean.

Ric on his way. Can u send the plate?

Brooke looked at the Hyundai. Then she got out and glanced around, hoping she didn’t draw attention as she took a leisurely stroll past the driveway. She snapped a quick photo of the license plate with her phone and also committed it to memory in case the picture turned out fuzzy. After about half a block, she turned around and walked casually back to her car. Once inside, she checked the photo and texted it to Sean. He probably wanted to run a criminal background check on Cameron’s mother. The thought wouldn’t have occurred to Brooke, but Sean was much more suspicious of people than she was.

The front door opened, and Kaitlyn emerged looking completely different. Her long auburn hair was piled in a knot on top of her head now. She wore a black shirt, a black miniskirt, and tall black boots, along with a different apron—also black.

She had two jobs? Clearly, she was going out for the evening, and it looked like she was dressed to wait tables. Brooke checked her watch and cursed. She looked up and down the street, but no sign of Ric.

Damn it. How long would she be gone? And had she bothered locking the door? And what would Cameron do on his own all night? Maybe he’d get bored and go roaming around town hunting for loose change.

Kaitlyn opened her car door, and Brooke jumped out.

“Ms. Spence?”

She turned around. Her look was curious but not unfriendly, and Brooke fixed a smile on her face as she approached her.

“Hi. You don’t know me but . . . I need to talk to you about your son.”

Her brow furrowed. “What about him?”

The front door opened, and Fenway shot outside. Cameron stepped out behind him and stood at the top of the porch steps, looking at Brooke as Fenway jumped in hysterical circles at her feet, probably hoping for another chicken nugget.

“Fenway, no.” Kaitlyn walked over and tried to grab the dog’s collar as she glanced up at Brooke. “Who did you say you are?”

“My name is Brooke Porter. And I work with . . . some people who need to talk to you about something.”

“Fenway, here!” Cameron shouted, coming down the steps. But the dog was too busy barking to obey.

Kaitlyn gave Fenway’s collar a sharp tug as she looked up at Brooke. “I’m sorry, you’re . . . who? And how do you know my son?”

From the corner of her eye, Brooke spotted a dark shape moving down the street. And then everything happened in slow motion.

Cameron reached for the dog’s collar.

Kaitlyn stood and looked at Brooke with confusion.

The black pickup moved closer, and Brooke’s stomach plummeted as she spied the long black gun barrel poking from the window.