Up in Smoke (Crossing the Line, #2)(58)

“She never would have signed something like that,” Derek said. “I could barely get her to sign a W-9.”

“If I had to guess, based on the type of petition—”

“He could claim she signed it and doesn’t have the capacity to remember,” Connor finished for Polly, holding the bridge of his nose. His stomach was churning so hard, he was going to be sick. “How the f*ck did the guy find her? She’s smart. Knows how to avoid being found. She wouldn’t have used credit cards. She doesn’t have a cell phone to track. How?”

No one had an immediate answer, so each of the men flipped open a file while Polly continued to punch away on her laptop. The file Connor had picked detailed her two stints in Dade. It didn’t contain any information he didn’t already know…until the end.

Total consecutive days spent in solitary confinement: seventy-two.

Bile rose in his throat. Dammit to hell. No wonder. No wonder she had a fear of being trapped. She’d been treated like an animal so often in her life, her bravery, the way she faced a world that had betrayed her, amazed him. He thought of her smile that morning in the courthouse, the tears in her eyes when he’d withheld his body from her, and he felt himself crack. It might as well have been a visible, jagged line down the center of his chest.

“Whoa.” Polly shook her head at the laptop screen. “He’s a psychiatrist? That’s kind of ironic, no?”

“I’ve said it before.” Bowen flipped a page. “Not helping.”

“Wait. A psychiatrist?” Connor leaned back in his chair, remembering the other night. The first night he’d made love to Erin. I’m on the shot. “Would that give him access to medical records? If Erin had a physical when she reached Chicago, if she was prescribed medication, the information would have been recorded somewhere. If he searched hard enough, he’d find it.”

Polly heaved a breath. “The search wouldn’t have been that hard if he had any type of skill.”

Derek pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “You’re wrong, Polly. Those medical records are sealed. He would have had to do a lot of digging, maybe call in a favor or two. I don’t leave loose ends like this.”

“Will he have this address?” Connor demanded to know. “Is this address on her medical forms?”

“No.” Derek shook his head. “We rented this place after she underwent the physical.”

Bowen shoved a hand through his hair, looking thoughtful. “My half sister’s boyfriend…he’s a cop. When he was shot last year, he had to see a shrink afterward for weeks. Mandatory-like. Is there any way this guy has access to police records or a database somehow that way?”

“Like maybe he works with cops?” Polly’s fingers flew over the keyboard. Her eyebrows shot up a second later. “Holy shit. He’s the mental health counselor for Miami PD.”

“Jesus Christ,” Connor gritted out and began to pace. “If he’s in contact with cops looking to skip out on mandatory counseling, it wouldn’t be a stretch for him to call in a favor. Get information. If that’s the case, he would find her anywhere she went.”

“Well.” Polly tucked her short black hair behind her ears. “Now that I have his real name and social security number, I can find out where he’s…” She punched a few keys. “Bingo. I have his potential location.”

Before she’d even finished rattling it off, Connor was halfway out the door.





Chapter Nineteen


Her stepfather had finally come home.

Erin forced her breathing to stay even as she heard keys jingle outside the house’s front door. She was crouched on top of a washing machine. Had been for what felt like hours. The laundry room included a back door leading to the garden, so she’d been semi-comfortable waiting there, bright sunshine turning to dusk and finally darkness. The only other door led into his kitchen, but he couldn’t trap her from both sides. She had an out if she needed it. Please don’t let me need it.

For almost four days, she’d been following Luther. From the courthouse, he’d gone back to a Motel 6 near O’Hare. She couldn’t get to him there, though. The fear of being cornered in a room with only one escape was too intense. So intense she’d had to work through a panic attack behind the adjacent 7-Eleven with her head tucked between her knees. The lack of sleep and fuel hadn’t helped, but her hunger and exhaustion had paled in the face of not having Connor.

Early the next morning, Luther had left the motel on a bus. By that time, she’d been sitting in the front seat of a Buick she’d hot-wired in anticipation of following him. He’d met a realtor at this house. The realtor had left almost immediately, but her stepfather had stayed inside for almost twenty-four hours. Had he bought the house? Rented it? It was almost completely unfurnished, apart from a few odds and ends the previous tenant had likely left behind.

So she’d waited…hoping to what? She didn’t know exactly. Scare him into leaving her alone? Appealing to a man who had an irrational hatred of her because of something that happened when she was a child? On top of the long shot that he would even listen to her, since when was she capable of convincing anyone of anything? She didn’t exactly have a reputation for being coolheaded and reasonable, especially when it came to this man.