Holding Out For A Hero. Pamela Tracy

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      He headed for the hallway bathroom, and after splashing water on his face, he went down the stairs to the kitchen, where Aunt Bianca waited.

      “I have chicken on the table.”

      It was never that simple. Aunt Bianca usually had some household maintenance detail she’d like him to attend to, or worse. Tonight was the or worse.

      “Abigail Simms’s granddaughter will be in town this weekend.” Bianca sounded very matter-of-fact.

      Oscar didn’t take the bait. Instead, he finished his first helping of chicken.

      Aunt Bianca was patient. She gave him a second helping before adding, “She’s here for Abigail’s birthday.”

      “That’s nice,” Oscar said.

      “I told Abigail that you had some free time Saturday and that you might be convinced to take her granddaughter for a ride on that bike of yours.”

      Funny, when Oscar first arrived on his aunt’s doorstep, she’d hated the motorcycle.

      “Death machine,” she’d called it.

      Now it seemed the death machine was okay as long as she could connect it to a little matchmaking.

      “I’m doing some undercover work this weekend,” he said, heading to the pantry to look for dessert.

      Aunt Bianca placed an elbow on the table, crooked her hand and placed her chin in it, looking at him and waiting. His mother did the same thing when she wanted an answer.

      Bianca loved that he’d joined the police department, never dreaming that strings had been pulled and procedures ignored. Even chief of police Tom Riley had no clue his new rookie wasn’t a rookie at all.

      Somehow the deception felt wrong. He tried to blame it on keeping secrets from his aunt, but he’d grown to respect Riley and wished the man was privy to all the details.

      His FBI boss, Townley, insisted on the assignment. “This legitimately gives you access not only to the files but also to the people who wrote them. If we can prevent Larry Wagner from conning even one more person, your role will have made a difference.”

      Townley had that right. So far, Larry Wagner, Saunders, Templeton, whatever name he was working under, had conned a lot of people. He was an equal opportunity crook and didn’t care who he was taking advantage of.

      That he’d married Shelley and left her pregnant without any remorse said it all. He was a man without a conscience, and his crimes were escalating. Sarasota Falls—a town with two squad cars and six officers—had been taken, from face-to-face fraud to account hacking. If acting as an officer, low man on the totem pole, working eight at night until eight in the morning, was what it took to bring Wagner down, Oscar would willingly do it.

      Chocolate-chip cookies discovered, he headed back to the kitchen.

      “You’re not working the whole weekend,” his aunt protested. “You need some time to play.”

      “I’ll play when I’ve closed a few of these cases.”

      Mainly Shelley Wagner’s, a woman who operated alone and who appeared to be a good—albeit hovering—mother.

      “But—” Aunt Bianca started.

      He put his plate in the sink and gave his aunt a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll let you know when and if I need a date, but believe me, I can find my own girl.”

      “By the time you go looking,” Aunt Bianca muttered, “you’ll be too old to do more than watch television and complain about your health.”

      “You’ve been talking to my mother again,” Oscar accused her.

      * * *

      THE NEXT DAY, he sat at his desk, finishing up his last report when his phone rang.

      “Hi, Mom,” he answered, earning a few smirks from other officers in the room.

      His mother filled him in on his sister’s latest antics as well as his brothers’ accomplishments. She segued to a funny story about his uncle Rudy’s garage, and finished by saying how excited she was that he had a date this weekend with a neighbor’s granddaughter.

      Ah, the phone call was the result of a joint effort between his aunt and his mother.

      “I’m at work, Mom, and need to finish up.” Since his return stateside a year ago, his mother had been trying to make up for lost time. She continued a moment more about family matters and then signed off. Oscar had just a few more things to do before he could go. Just as Oscar was closing up the last open file on his computer, thinking about getting to his aunt’s place and sleep, Lucas Stillwater came in, a Snickers bar in hand. On the small Sarasota Falls police roster, he was long-term, having been with the department for over twenty years, and he hadn’t been young when he joined.

      Lucas now worked the day desk and no longer patrolled. The most pressing job he had was visiting schools and discussing Stranger Danger. He paused by Oscar’s desk to say, “Hey! Riley just called. We found a DB, and you’ll never guess where.”

      Oscar waited. Lucas liked to play guessing games, which Oscar didn’t have time for. Stillwater talked too much and worked too little. It hadn’t always been that way. At least, that was what Oscar had heard. According to Chief Riley, Stillwater’s retirement was merely months away, and his goal was keeping alive and out of trouble. Oscar squinted at the computer screen and responded, “Where?”

      “Vine Street. Right down from where you are.”

      Oscar’s fingers stilled. His aunt had a few older neighbors. He hoped it wasn’t Abigail Simms from across the street. But...

      “That young couple fairly new to the town,” Stillwater continued. “She’s a schoolteacher. Her husband manages Little’s Supermarket.”

      Something heavy formed in Oscar’s chest. It moved to his stomach, started to churn. This wasn’t good.

      “The last name’s Livingston. She...”

      The chair squealed against the floor as Oscar scooted away from his desk. Candace indeed lived three houses down from him and had hung around with his little sister when they were in school. Candace and her husband, Cody, had moved here nine months ago when she secured a teaching job. Cody managed Little’s Supermarket, a chain owned by Candace’s father. Oscar stood, reaching for his badge and touching the sidearm already secure in his holster.

      Lucas let out a low whistle and bemoaned, “We still haven’t gotten over the excitement of Larry Wagner and making the national news. Now this. Chief Riley’s not going to be happy.”

      Oscar didn’t care.

      Candace murdered?

      She represented what was good and right in the world.

      He had to pause a moment, get his bearings and ask the right questions. “Who reported this?”

      “We got a call СКАЧАТЬ