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Well, Miguel didn’t believe that for a damned moment.
There was more going on.
He stood where he was, studied the area. Ricardo’s body had been found on the corner of Boethe and Forty-Sixth. The roughest area in the city. But gangs weren’t that prevalent in Finley Creek. He wasn’t a fool. No.
The most dangerous gangs that ran in Finley Creek were more the organized crime type that occasionally used local youth as grunts. He strongly suspected that was what that kid had run up against.
Miguel was just trying to find a way to prove it.
He had questions.
Now he just had to find someone to answer them.
Ricardo Ahumada had had one main passion shown all over his social media. What he did when he wasn’t at school, work, mowing lawns, or being with his family.
Skateboarding.
Not exactly something Miguel could understand. Riding around on a small piece of wood on wheels was definitely not his thing. He’d tried it before when he’d been a kid, and fallen flat on his ass. Twice. He hadn’t tried it again. Miguel had been more the football-is-life kid than the loner/skateboard type. Hell, he’d probably been too damned big to be good at it from the very beginning.
But as luck would have had it—there was a kid around Ricardo’s age rolling in his direction right now. Thin, around the age of fourteen or fifteen—too far away for Miguel to tell if the skater was male or female.
They were fast and good.
And right where they shouldn’t be.
Miguel had questions. The kid might just have the answers.
He waited until the skater got closer, and stepped right into the kid’s path. Miguel was an extra big man, at six seven and three hundred fifty pounds. The kid would stop. They wouldn’t have a choice.
The skater came to an abrupt halt right in front of him after twisting to avoid crashing into him. Indignation was hard to miss. Miguel just…waited. “Are you just trying to get run over, big dude? You could have hurt us both with that little stunt.”
Big, dark brown eyes stared right into his. A face filled with attitude and challenge and fire. The fire contrasted with the extremely pale skin and the freckles over the small, pug nose. The hair was shaggy and longer, but with the helmet on, he still couldn’t tell—boy or girl?
“I have questions. I need them answered.” Miguel identified himself quickly. The kid pulled earbuds out of their ears and glared. “You’re going to help me out.”
A smirk was Miguel’s only response. Then… “Well, why should I help you, man? I’ve been told not to talk to strangers, you know. What’s in it for me, man?”
25
Sol saw Gordon Harris’s daughter walking through the lab, a preoccupied look on her face. He’d been thinking about her almost nonstop since the attack in that damned vault. It could have been little Hallie in there.
What he’d done to her in that van felt like a betrayal. Her old man had been Sol’s closest friend he’d ever had. Sol was sorry that had gone by the wayside. Gordon had come to Maribeth’s funeral, though. Been there. Checked on him a day or two later.
Sol had appreciated that.
And this was how he’d paid Gordon back. By hurting Gordon’s little girl.
Sol couldn’t keep himself from watching her. She was a beautiful girl. Around thirty now, he thought, once he did the math. He remembered when she was just around eight or so. He’d hired on to the Finley Creek TSP about then, years before his Maribeth had been born. He’d worked with her father, considered him a good friend. They’d been partnered for years. Until that upstart McKellen had transferred in later and the brass had wanted Gordon to train him personally.
That hadn’t gone well. Not for Gordon anyway. Gordon Harris and Daniel McKellen Junior had been like fire and water. Despised each other on sight.
McKellen had had something to do with Gordon’s sudden retirement three days after they’d been partnered up.
But the way McKellen hovered over that girl there…
His hand stung. Sol looked down. The bruises were gone. Sting was probably all in his head. He hadn’t struck her. Gordon’s little girl. But he might as well have. He was just as culpable for what had happened to her as the rest of those assholes. Guilt filled him again.
What would Maribeth have said if she had known the monster her daddy had become?
