Justice Delayed (Memphis Cold Case #1)(16)

“Wow,” Will said. “Powerful stuff.”

The admiration in Will’s eyes tightened her chest, making it hard to breathe. “Thanks. Treece is a genius at editing. She knows just how to frame the segments.”

Andi high-fived her friend even as she tried to figure out why Will was having such an effect on her. Must be from getting knocked in the head.

“It’s good reporting,” Brad said. “You do good sometimes, Squirt.”

She made a face at him. He’d called her Squirt since she was old enough to tag along after him.

“Would you two consider coming down to the street mission where I volunteer and talking to the girls?” Will asked.

She’d forgotten he volunteered at the mission. “Sure.”

“Set it up and give us a call,” Treece said.

Andi nodded in agreement as her friend stood, and Will walked her to the door.

“See you in the morning,” Treece said.

It was time for her to hit the sack too, and she climbed out of the recliner. On impulse, she hugged her brother. “Thanks for being here for me.”

“I hope you know I’ve always got your back,” he said.

Were those tears in his eyes? “I know, and sometimes I make that hard. I’ll try to do better.”

Her cell phone rang. Andi glanced at the ID. The station manager? “I’ll take this in my bedroom.”

Once in her room, she answered. “Hollister.”

“Andi, there’s a girl on another line saying she needs to talk to you. Won’t say what it’s about other than mumbling something about the runaway segment that just aired. Can I give her your cell number?”

“Of course.” It wasn’t uncommon to get calls after one of their segments aired. A minute later, her cell phone rang again, and she answered. “This is Andi Hollister. How can I help you?”

“Uh . . .” Silence stretched over the airways. “C-can you h-help me? I saw your program and how you helped that other girl.”

“Are you a runaway?”

“No . . . yes . . . but . . . he promised me a modeling job. Two days later, he had me stripping and . . .”

Andi pressed her fingers to her temple, trying to ease the throbbing in her head. She didn’t want to deal with this right now.

“I’m scared.”

Fear in the girl’s voice raised goose bumps on Andi’s arm. “What’s your name?”

“Chloe.”

“Would you like me to help you get back home, Chloe?”

“No!”

Nothing was ever simple. “What do you want then?”

“I . . . want off the streets.”

The pounding in Andi’s head intensified. “Are you downtown?”

“Most of the time.”

“Go to the mission—it’s close to the Greyhound bus station.”

“He’ll find me and kill me if I do. I gotta get out of Memphis, and you helped that other girl to get away. Will you help me?”

Andi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why did you call me?”

“Because . . .” Chloe took a jerky breath. “On the news, when you talked to that girl, you cared. It showed in your eyes. I don’t trust anyone else. If you’ll help me, I’ll do an interview for you warning girls not to run away—but only if you can disguise my voice.”

Another interview would be great, but that was not why she would help her. She did care. Too much, maybe. Which meant she had to do it. “When?”

“I’m working on Beale tomorrow night near the clubs on the east end. And if you bring any cops, you won’t see me. He’ll find out and kill me.”

“Why not tonight?”

“Can’t leave where I am. Tomorrow night. Nine o’clock at the corner of Beale and Third—there’s a park.” She caught her breath. “Gotta go. This guy’s waking up.”

The line went dead. Andi couldn’t tell the girl’s age from her husky voice. She wants out. And somehow, Andi would help her.





6

AT EIGHT O’CLOCK WEDNESDAY MORNING, David Raines picked up Will Kincade’s folder and perused it one last time, satisfied with the choice he’d made.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

He looked up. “Yes. Have a seat.”

David placed the folder on the stack on the corner of his desk. He studied Will as the lanky detective sat in the straight-back chair and clasped his hands together. The sergeant’s only sign of nervousness came from the way he pressed one thumb against the other. Time to put the man out of his misery. “As I’m sure you already know, you’ve been chosen to join the Cold Case Unit. This just makes it official.”

A grin the size of Texas spread across Will’s face. “Thank you, sir! And nothing is certain until it’s official.”

“You earned it.”

Will was the first addition to the unit, and David hoped there would be more, but it depended on funding. He had several officers in mind who shared his passion for seeing that families received closure and justice for their murdered relatives. And Will did that. “Do you have any cases that need to be wrapped up?”

“Only one from last night I was assisting Brad Hollister with.”