Page 41 of Jasmine Street Blues

“How do you know Carrie?”

The kid shrugged his shoulders. “When I was little she babysat me a couple of times.”

When I was little. When Carrie had lived here Brant would’ve been ten years old, or thereabouts. Not so long ago for Mac, but a lifetime for the kid.

“Do you remember her last name?” he asked.

Brant shook his head. “Nah. Not sure I ever knew it. Of all my babysitters, I liked her best. She’d let me stay up late and watch movies, and she always had candy.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

Brant shrugged his shoulders again.

This was progress, but it was also frustrating as hell. “Have you seen her recently?” He would’ve found her if she was still around, but he had to ask.

“Nah, it’s been a long time. You should ask Sonny. She worked for him.”

“Sonny Baxter?”

“I guess so. The guy who fixes stuff. Hey, it’s Friday. Is this payday? My dad says Friday is payday.”

“This afternoon,” Mac said. “You might get a bonus.”

“Cool! Come on Bubbles,” Brant said, “let’s go for a walk.” The dog followed the boy obediently. Not so long ago their relationship had been very different. Now there was trust, even affection.

Mac stood very still, as his mind spun. Carrie. Sonny. If she’d had a job and friends here, why had she left? Why hadn’t she been here when he’d shown up looking for her?

Loran placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Sonny was at the studio a few days ago. He saw a sketch of Carrie, but he didn’t say anything about recognizing her. What does this mean? Does it mean anything at all?”

He’d shown Sonny his photo of a seven-year-old Carrie, had mentioned her name, which she’d obviously been using when she’d worked for him. Same name, and while Carrie had matured in those years between seven and sixteen anyone who’d known her should’ve been able to put two and two together. The handyman had denied having any knowledge. Why? What was he hiding?

Mac was about to find out.

* * *

She didn’t like the expression on Mac’s face. He wasn’t exactly soft and cuddly, but he was never unrelentingly hard. Not in the way he was now.

“I’m going with you,” she said as he stormed out of the front door.

“You are not,” he said without turning to look at her.

“You can’t stop me,” she insisted. “I can ride with you or I can follow you in my van. Seawolf Beach isn’t exactly the kind of place where you can lose a tail.”

He stopped on the sidewalk, near his patrol car. “I can arrest you.”

“Go ahead. Handcuff me. Lock me up. How long will that delay you getting to Sonny?”

“Not that damn long.”

“I know something you don’t.”

“What?” he snapped.

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

He grumbled, but he opened the door for her. She dropped into the passenger seat. Mac slammed the door behind her and stormed to the other side of the car. When he sat she said,

“You need to take a deep breath.”