Page 26 of Long Past Deadly

“Not tired,” he lied.

“I talked to you at three a.m. You did not sleep. I’ll wake you if we find anything.”

The Operations door opened and Delaney came in, opened the storage cupboard, and dropped the keys to the car they’d been using. “Need me for anything else?”

“Uh, guys?” Kerry rapidly scrolled through screens, clicking at a pace that defied description.

“What?” Quaid wished he hadn’t growled, but a headache was building behind his eyes.

“There’s an active police report on this man from two weeks ago. His blood was found in an alley near the mission downtown, and there is a second blood type they can’t identify. I mean a lot of blood. They think he’s dead. Case is still open, though. No body. For either one apparently.”

Mackey leaned in. “Can you get us a full background on this Whit person?”

Delaney came across the room to their cubicle. “Why are you searching for Whit?”

Mackey reared back. “You know him?”

“Yeah. Works the mission. He’s been gone for a couple weeks. Nobody seems to have a clue where he went.”

Quaid pointed at the police report. “Hurt. Possibly dead. They aren’t sure.”

Kerry scrolled back to let Delaney read the file. He straightened and shook his head. “Whit was Green Beret. No way he lost in a street fight. He’s always taking care of any street riff raff that bother the kids. Most people avoid him because they’re afraid to get into it with him.”

“Not you, though?”

“He knew I’d been Army, too. But with my arm, I couldn’t do much to help him. Once in awhile I’d shelter a kid for him. But the man could fight.”

“Where did he serve?”

“Iraq, mostly. Syria. The Middle East region. We never crossed paths. My tours were all in Afghanistan.”

“Have you heard the name Mercer?”

Delaney thought for a few seconds and finally shook his head. “Nope, not in this context. I had a private named Jason Mercer in my platoon in Afghanistan, but this couldn’t be him. He was barely out of high school, got injured in an IED explosion, and broke his back. Last I heard, he’d gone home to Indiana.”

Mackey shifted to study the screen closer. Kerry stopped him. “I have this, guys. I’ll start the search through internet muck to find him. It’s gonna take time.”

Quaid sighed. “In the meantime, Frank could give us a hand on Whit.”

Mackey straightened, moving out of Kerry’s space. “He’ll want something in exchange.”

“Yeah, give me a couple hours to sleep. I’ll talk to him.”

“PD is not happy about any of this.”

“Are we?” Quaid snapped, then regretted it.

The Operations door flew open and Elizabeth came through the door at a fast clip. Her blonde hair was neatly tucked in a roll behind her head and her makeup was flawless as usual. But instead of an elegant, colorful ensemble per habit, she wore worn blue jeans, a red family ranch t-shirt with Stephenson-Craig Ranch logo on the pocket, and the brown work boots she wore in the barn. “You get back, finally, and don’t come to see me first?” Color flushed her cheeks, but her eyes were hard.

Quaid dropped his head. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” He stepped to her and wrapped her in his arms. “I’m okay.”

She held on for a long moment, and Quaid let her. He needed to engage his brain. She always reacted badly to threats.

She eased back to look him in the eye. “Where is Alanna Williams?”

“In the clinic. She’s fine, but has cuts, bruises, and her eardrums are damaged. She needs rest.”

She gripped his arms. “So, in other words, we need Cait.”