Home To Stay

There was a ten-year age gap between them, but she’d loved Charlie completely and unreservedly.

And Charlie had loved her unconditionally in return. Their mother had said he idolized her. That put a lot of pressure on Shannon to be a good role model. Charlie wanted to do everything Shannon did; in fact, their father called him her shadow. As Charlie had grown, he’d also developed an open adoration for Kenny. Shannon had worried about how Kenny would respond to a young child hanging around them. She’d been delighted when Kenny, an only child, treated Charlie as if he was his kid brother, too.

Shannon’s parents started calling them the Three Musketeers. Shannon had Googled that, and she liked the sound of it. Yeah, the three of them against the world!

Shortly after Shannon turned fourteen, something had changed between her and Kenny. At first it was subtle; with time, it became more pronounced. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but their relationship just wasn’t the same. She worried that because Kenny was sixteen, two years older than her, he now thought of her as a kid. Her idea was reinforced when he’d insisted that she—and everyone else—start calling him Ken. He considered himself too old to be called Kenny. But she concluded she couldn’t have been correct about how he felt because they still saw each other as much as they used to, if not more. Then she’d fretted that it was Charlie, since Ken no longer wanted to have him around.

Shannon’s mother had sat her down and had a talk with her about Ken and their relationship now that they were teenagers, but Shannon had assured her that Kenny—Ken—was just a friend.

When Ken had asked Shannon to go for a hike in Torrey Pines State Reserve north of San Diego, Charlie had wanted desperately accompany them. Kenny had insisted that it would be a long hike, too strenuous for Charlie. Tears had coursed down her brother’s cheeks when she’d told him he couldn’t come with them.

If only Charlie had listened...

* * *

SHANNON CLOSED HER eyes and the memories came rushing back.

It was shortly after Kenny had gotten his driver’s license and he was so proud to be able to drive them to the park in his mother’s car.

As they walked side by side along a forest path, Kenny bumped Shannon’s shoulder. Shannon had been watching the shifting patchwork of light and shade on the sun-dappled forest floor, her thoughts so focused on how to broach the subject of what had caused the change between them, that the movement made her lose her footing.

He caught her with one hand on her arm, the other at her waist.

“Thanks, Kenny.” Noting his annoyance, she quickly amended her words. “Sorry... Ken.” Steady on her feet again, she tried to step away, but he kept an arm around her waist. “Um... I’m okay now. Thanks.”

Instead of releasing her, he closed the gap between them. Shannon saw his mouth open and his eyes close as he lowered his head toward hers. With an appalled jolt, she understood that he intended to kiss her. Letting out a squeal that sounded girlish to her own ears, she placed her palms on his chest and shoved. She must’ve taken him by surprise because he staggered and landed ingloriously on his butt.

“What did you do that for?” he demanded, his irritation obvious.

“You...you were going to kiss me!” Shannon swiped her forearm across her mouth, almost as if he’d managed to accomplish what he’d set out to do.

Leaning back, he continued to stare up at her. “Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong with it?” she heard herself sputter. “You’re my friend. You’re like a brother.”

He rose and dusted off his jeans. “Is that so? Is that how you think of me?”

“Well, yeah. How else?”

She and Kenny—Ken—couldn’t reach any kind of agreement, but at least she had her answer to the question she’d been grappling with.

Something had changed between them.

Kenny no longer thought of her as a friend or a sister. He confessed that he wanted her as his girlfriend.

Shannon couldn’t think of him that way. Her mother’s warning, and how readily she’d dismissed it, came to mind.

Kenny suggested she take some time to decide. She knew she didn’t need time, since her feelings for Kenny weren’t going to change.

Kenny drove her home. He didn’t bother to get out of the car. They said a terse goodbye and, with a heavy heart, she walked into her house.

When Shannon entered the kitchen, her mother glanced over her shoulder from where she was standing in front of the stove, stirring a pot. “Oh, thank goodness you’re back,” Victoria said. “Your father has a charter booked to go fishing and wants to take Charlie with him.”

“Charlie?” Maybe it was because Shannon was still in a daze from what had happened with Kenny, but she didn’t understand what her mother was talking about.

“Yes, Charlie.” Victoria turned, a wooden spoon in her hand. “Where is he?”

Shannon felt cold tentacles of dread slithering through her. “Why are you asking me? I was with Kenny. Charlie wasn’t with us.”

The spoon slipped out of Victoria’s hand and clattered to the tile floor. “Then where is he? When we couldn’t find him, we...we assumed he must’ve gone with you.”

The tentacles were constricting, and she imagined her ribs would snap at any moment. It was nearly impossible for her to breathe. “No...” Shannon’s voice was a disembodied whisper. “He wasn’t with us.”

Victoria rushed to the hallway. “Paul! Paul... Charlie wasn’t with Shannon!”

The rest of the day was a nightmare for Shannon.

The police were in and out of their home as if it had a revolving door. They visited Kenny and found Charlie’s stuffed dog on the floor of his car. They’d speculated that Charlie had followed Shannon out of the house and that while she and Kenny had gone into the garage to get her hiking boots, he’d hidden on the floor in the backseat of the car and sneaked after them when they went on their hike.

A police officer and his search-and-rescue dog were brought in to find Charlie.

They discovered his body the next day.

He must’ve gotten lost in the forest and had drowned in a creek. The K-9 officer had tears in his eyes when he told them. Shannon hadn’t blamed the police. She could tell they’d done everything possible to find Charlie. The K-9 officer had just been brought in too late, as he’d been deployed on another assignment. She’d concluded that if there were more police officers with dogs, they could’ve found Charlie in time. She knew her parents felt the same way, because they made a donation in Charlie’s memory to the San Diego Police Department Foundation to acquire and train a police service dog in search and rescue. Shannon had asked that the dog be named after Charlie. The foundation had agreed.

It was back then that Shannon had resolved to become a police officer working in the K-9 Unit. If she could save one little boy like Charlie, dedicating her life to policing would all be worth it...

Now, here she was, and she’d had that chance. And she’d failed.

* * *

IT WAS WELL past eight when Logan finished the last of his paperwork and turned off his computer. He said silent thanks that Ariana was so understanding about the odd hours he had to work. He smiled, thinking that she’d soon be his wife. Logan wouldn’t have imagined it six months ago, when he’d first met the cool and competent head of security and loss prevention for San Diego International Airport.

Logan retrieved his duffel, whistled for Boomer, his explosives-detection dog, and left his office.

He’d thought that he’d been alone in the squad room, but he was wrong. Shannon was leaning back in her chair, her feet propped up on another one, her legs crossed at the ankles. She had her laptop on her lap, but she was completely still. He couldn’t tell if she’d dozed off or not, but the computer screen was dark. He knew she’d been working long hours since Cal had left on vacation, and this should’ve been her day off.

“Hey, Shannon,” he said quietly as he approached her.

She dropped her feet to the floor and nearly knocked the laptop off her thighs as she bolted up. The jostling had the screen coming out of hibernation. “Logan. Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

He smiled. “Obviously.”

She hurriedly shut down her laptop, but not before he saw the smiling, freckle-faced kid’s picture.

He pulled the chair she’d had her feet on forward and sat. What would another fifteen or twenty minutes matter when he suspected he knew what was going on. He signaled for Boomer to lie down. The beautiful near-black Dutch Malinois/shepherd mix did, right next to Darwin.

“Shannon, the boy in that picture is your brother?” He searched his memory for the child’s name. “It’s Charlie?”

Shannon nodded.

“You want to talk about it?”

She took a deep breath, then blew it out. “I just relived it in my mind. I’d prefer not to go through it again. At least not now.” She placed a finger on her touch pad, fiddled with it a bit and clicked. She turned the screen toward Logan. “And that’s Dylan.”

Logan noted the similarities in age, coloring and the wide, gap-toothed grins.

“I don’t want what happened to Charlie to happen to Dylan.” She raised her hand. “Oh, I know the situations are entirely different, but I don’t want a cop—me or someone else—to have to tell Sawyer Evans that his little boy is...is gone. I don’t want Sawyer to have to go through what my parents did. To live with having lost a child.” She reached down and stroked the top of Darwin’s head, then shook her own. “No parent should have to endure that. I know what it felt like to lose my brother and to carry the blame—”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Blame?”

With a resigned sigh, she gave him the highlights.

“You’re not to blame,” Logan said vehemently when she’d finished, but he understood her better now.

“Maybe not. However, it doesn’t mean I don’t still carry the guilt. Reason is one thing. Emotion, something else altogether.” She paused for a long moment. “Is it worse knowing someone took him? That it wasn’t an accident?”

Logan understood that the question was rhetorical, but irrespective, he didn’t have the answer. He and Ariana had discussed having children, and the idea of anything like that happening to one of them petrified him. “At least we have a chance of getting Dylan back safe and sound,” he said gently.

Logan still had to address with Shannon the fact that she’d withheld material information about herself, information that could’ve impacted the specialization he’d assigned her. Especially considering the particulars she’d just shared. But looking at her and how fragile she seemed he knew that now was not the appropriate time.

As for the abduction, if they talked it through, they might come up with something they’d missed. If not, it would at least serve to get her mind off her own loss. “Okay, let’s go over what we have.” Logan looked up when he heard the squad room door open. Seeing Ariana stride in—with her confident, no-nonsense gait, and carrying a large bag of Chinese takeout—he appreciated again how fortunate he was to have her in his life. The more he got to know her, the more he respected her intelligence and agile mind. He couldn’t ignore her beauty, either, with all that long, dark hair and her exotic features.

She dealt with many significant issues in her job. Having her perspective on this situation could help.

“I guess we won’t be going hungry while we do it,” Logan added. “Let’s move this into the conference room,” he said as he rose to give Ariana a kiss.

CHAPTER FOUR

SHANNON WAS BACK in the squad room early the next morning. She watched the flurry of activity around her and knew most of it had to do with Dylan Evans.

The boy was still missing.

She, Logan and Ariana hadn’t come up with any great revelations the evening before. Judging by the bustle around her, neither had the investigative team.

She recognized the two FBI special agents who’d been assigned to the case—Leary and Wilson. Bigelow from the Special Response Team was there too, and she knew most of the other officers, who were from the SDPD. They were filing into the conference room.

When she saw Logan enter the squad room, she hurried over to him.

“I know I’m not needed actively on the case right now, but is it okay if I sit in on the briefing?”

He looked at her sympathetically. “You have a heavy workload with Cal gone. Are you sure you have the time?”

“It matters,” she said softly.

Logan held her gaze, then slowly nodded. “Okay. Good training for you,” he said, making her feel less awkward about her personal interest in the case.

She started toward the conference room, but he forestalled her with a hand on her arm.

“If you need to leave anytime during the briefing, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

She felt his comment was a discreet reference to her emotional state the evening before. It told Shannon that Logan realized she wanted in, not just because of Dylan but also because of Charlie. She was fortunate to have such an understanding boss. “Thanks,” she said with a grateful smile.

She took a seat along the back wall, near the door rather than at the table. She was an observer, not a participant. And it would make for an unobtrusive exit should she need to leave.

“First, to recap,” Bigelow began. “The missing boy is four-year-old Dylan Evans. Dylan’s been missing for over a day, and there’s been no ransom demand. No contact with his family or the police. Dylan’s father, Sawyer Evans, is a former high-profile prosecutor with the San Diego County District Attorney’s office and is now a professor at Thomas Jefferson School of Law. Evans says he stopped practicing law and became a professor shortly after a challenging case involving a young man, Stewart Rankin, from a rich and privileged family.” He swept his gaze around the room. “Many of you will remember that Rankin killed five people in a motor-vehicle accident while driving under the influence.”

A hand went up and Bigelow pointed at the uniform.

“That’s the guy who’d been out partying with his buddies. A stag before his wedding. Drove a high-end Porsche Carrera, right?”

Bigelow nodded. “Yeah, that’s Rankin. Evans was the prosecutor. He won the case. Rankin was sentenced to twelve years in prison. His family has money and they threw a considerable amount at his defense team. Evans says the trial was brutal and his involvement, the effort and energy required, took a toll on his personal life. His wife, Jeannette Evans, left him and their one-year-old son shortly afterward, without discussion or warning. She didn’t return home from her fitness club one day. His workload had been an issue between them ever since Dylan’s arrival. Although the case was technically still open, since there was no indication of foul play, the assumption was that she’d had enough and left. There was some speculation that post-partum depression might have been a factor, but nothing conclusive was known in that regard.”

That was news to Shannon. Sawyer must have been heartbroken and reeling from his wife’s desertion. She raised her hand. “Is Jeannette a possible suspect?” she asked when Bigelow signaled to her to speak.

“I was just getting to that. I checked the case file. She simply disappeared. Vanished without a trace. Her car was in the club’s parking lot. There was nothing captured on the facility’s security cameras. Subsequent to her disappearance, there was no use of credit cards, accessing of bank accounts or contact with anyone she’d known. Ultimately and on that basis, the detectives concluded she was more than likely deceased. This is where the question of post-partum depression arose. As I said, the case remains open, but since there was no evidence of a struggle or any indication to the contrary, foul play was ruled out.”

He got up to walk around the room. “I spoke to the detective who had the lead. She said Evans hired a private investigator to look for his wife. It was his call, although the detective had cautioned that it was highly unlikely the PI would find anything we hadn’t. She said Evans was highly distraught. Understandably. He had a new kid and had lost his wife. Said they’d been together since high school.” He shrugged. “As expected, the PI didn’t turn up anything new. There were no clues as to where she’d gone or what had happened to her.

“The only thing that kept Evans functioning, according to the detective, was his kid. His son’s welfare became Evans’s priority. He changed jobs to be able to spend as much time with the kid as possible. As is standard procedure in cases like this, Evans was looked at as a possible suspect but cleared.”

Bigelow was known to be a tough cop, but Shannon could see that even he was moved.

“How could the guy have foreseen that taking his son on a family vacation would turn into a parent’s worst nightmare?” He shook his head. “Speaking of nightmares, Evans said his kid had them from the time his mother left, and only now are they becoming less frequent. Let’s get this kid back to his father as soon as we can. Special Agent Leary will cover what we’ve got so far.”

Bigelow switched places with Leary. “Sadly, not much,” Leary began. “Yesterday we went over all the possibilities with Evans. His acquaintances and neighbors, his current and past colleagues and, going further back to his tenure as an assistant district attorney, any and all people he’d prosecuted. The DA’s office is reviewing their files, too. We haven’t hit on anything, but the most likely suspects—operating on the assumption that he or she is known to Evans—are people he’d prosecuted as an assistant DA.”

Leary held up his hands when murmurs broke out across the room. “I know that takes us back three years or more, but we can’t ignore it. We’re paying particular attention to the people who’d been convicted. Especially those who received long sentences, as well as their family members. We also looked at associates—in and out of prison—where applicable. Anyone who’d been recently released. Five made it to the top of our list. First up is Stewart Rankin, whom Detective Bigelow just mentioned. He’s serving twelve years in the George F. Bailey Detention Facility. Next is Donna Thompson, convicted of being a drug mule for one of the Mexican cartels, serving a seven-year sentence. With her, there could be a cartel angle, depending on how integrated she was with the organization.”

“You should talk to Rick Vasquez about that,” Logan interjected. “Rick and his narcotics-detection dog, Sniff, were instrumental in taking her down. Rumor had it she was personally involved with one of the Sinaloa cartel’s lieutenants. Although we didn’t get any of the cartel’s key operatives, the takedown was significant because of the size of the seizure and, perhaps more importantly, the closing down of one of their most lucrative smuggling routes.”

Leary nodded. “If it impacted the cartel and/or there was a personal relationship, that moves her up the list. We’ll talk to Vasquez.”

Shannon glanced over at Logan, but his expression was inscrutable. If the Sinaloa cartel had anything to do with Dylan’s abduction, that was bad news. They wouldn’t have done it for financial gain.

“But before we get too concerned about the cartel,” Leary said, “my opinion is that if it was them, we would’ve heard by now—one way or another. They wouldn’t have taken the kid for money.”

That confirmed Shannon’s belief.

“To them, whatever Evans could pay would be a drop in the bucket. If they took the kid, it would’ve been for revenge. And in Thompson’s case, we’re going back nearly four years. I doubt the cartel bosses would’ve been this patient if they wanted retribution.

“Third on our list is Colin Jansen, serving life for killing a man in a barroom brawl when he hit him on the back of the head with a pool cue. Jansen reportedly has anger issues, and he has associates on the outside. Number four is Nadine Crosby. She was twenty-three at the time she was convicted of the attempted murder of her mother and her mother’s then-boyfriend. Diagnosed as a psychopath, she fits the profile, and the fact that she was released a few months ago moved her up our list to fourth position. However, she’s solidly alibied for the time of the abduction. Rounding out the top five, we have Norman Blackstone, a fifty-six-year-old father of four who defrauded his employer of nearly a million dollars. Evans sent him to prison for five years. That covers the probables.”

Leary nodded at Bigelow. “Anything you want to add?”

Bigelow shook his head. “No, other than to say that the DA’s office is continuing to go through all of Evans’s case files. Anything else?” he asked the room in general.

A hand shot up. “What are the chances that Evans might be behind it?”

Bigelow inclined his head. “That’s a good question. As usual, we’re taking an in-depth look at the family. We haven’t gotten a red flag in our discussions with Evans. We’ve interviewed the other campers in the area and got nothing from them, either.” He scanned the room. “A complexity in this case is that the boy is the second member of Evans’s immediate family to disappear. That’s too coincidental for my liking and warrants closer scrutiny. It would answer the question we’ve been grappling with of why the father didn’t wake up if the boy was abducted from the tent.”

“Is it worth looking at the missing wife again?” someone else asked.

“Yes. We’ll review Jeannette Evans’s file, although as I said, the investigation into her disappearance had ruled out the possibility that Evans played any role in it.” Bigelow frowned at his notes. “On the other hand, if it is Evans, if he was involved in her case, where’s the body? And if he’s responsible for his son’s disappearance, where would he have taken the boy?”

There was murmuring in the room, but Bigelow ignored it and continued.

“We brought in the air support unit with infrared capabilities,” he continued. “Their lack of results, combined with what our search-and-rescue dogs have indicated, leads us to conclude the boy was no longer in the park when Evans sounded the alert. But we know he didn’t leave the place until we escorted him home.”

Shannon realized it was standard procedure to look at family members in child-abduction cases, yet hearing that Sawyer was a possible suspect made her feel defensive. She couldn’t believe it. Yes, she was going on a gut feel, but a lot of good police work depended on well-honed instincts. She’d been the first cop on the scene, the first to speak to Sawyer. He couldn’t have faked the raw grief and distress she’d seen.

“Evans’s parents are retired, and we’ve found no reason to suspect them. The sister, Meghan Evans, is single and a marine biologist working for the Scripps Institution of Oceanography in their Marine Biology Research Division. We don’t suspect her, either,” Bigelow said.

When the briefing was concluded and all the questions answered, Shannon left the conference room, along with everyone else. She didn’t know if the others felt as dejected as she did. Yeah, cops hoped they’d never get so callous that they didn’t feel for the victims, but Shannon had to wonder if she’d be able to deal with this sort of thing on a regular basis.

She focused on her work and got some satisfaction when she and Darwin were called out and located an Alzheimer’s patient who’d wandered away from Ocean Crest Hospital; they were able to return him unharmed to his family. They also helped apprehend a man who’d crashed a stolen vehicle, injuring an elderly woman, and had fled the scene. He blew well over the legal limit and, right now, was warming a bench in a holding cell.

But her thoughts kept drifting back to Sawyer Evans and his son, Dylan. How could she not be emotionally engaged when a child’s well-being was at stake? And it wasn’t only about the boy. It was the father, too.

There was something about Sawyer... He stirred up feelings in her that were unprecedented in her experience, and she couldn’t set them aside. Was it empathy she felt because of Charlie?