In Her Tracks (Tracy Crosswhite #8)
Robert Dugoni
PROLOGUE
October 30, Five Years Ago
Seattle, Washington
Seattle police officer Bobby Chin was late, and about to pay a heavy price.
Still in uniform, he hurried from his car and shuffled up the concrete steps of what once had been his home. The boyfriend had parked the Range Rover in what had been Chin’s driveway. Brand spanking new vehicle. Supercharged, as if to add insult to injury, except no way a personal trainer could afford a $90,000 automobile. No way. The guy had to be dealing on the side—steroids was Chin’s bet from the guy’s bloated physique—though he also wondered if his monthly alimony and child support helped to pay for that luxury. Jewel, his soon-to-be ex-wife, wasn’t about to ride in anything beneath her expensive tastes.
He reached for the lion’s-head knocker, but Jewel pulled open the door, waiting for him, no doubt to chew him out.
“You’re late.” Her posture matched the tone of her voice. Attitude. She stood with a hand cocked on her hip and an accusatory tilt of the head. She’d had her nails done. This time, a royal blue. Gold necklaces and bracelets peeked out from her white cashmere sweater that, despite the cool October weather, barely met the beltline of her white jeans. She dressed in white when Chin picked up Elle. The color contrasted with her painted nails and complexion. Chin once told her how much he liked her in white, that it made her look sexy.
He regretted it.
“I called. You didn’t answer, again,” Chin said. “And I left you a text message. You didn’t respond, again.”
“You’re always late.”
“As I said—”
“I don’t have time to be deciphering your messages,” she said. “I have a date . . . a life. You should try it.”
Chin bit his tongue. He knew what she was doing, and he wasn’t about to take the bait. Not this time. Not again. He couldn’t afford another domestic violence charge. His attorney said it would ruin his position in the parenting plan and likely land him in jail, meaning the loss of his job.
“Besides,” she said, “I was preoccupied.” She let the door swing open so Chin could see the puffed-up boyfriend—Spiffy Asshole, whatever his name. Chin didn’t remember and really didn’t care. Early twenties, the guy always looked like he’d just completed a set of bench presses. Veins popped in his forearms and neck. His pecs stretched the fabric of his too-small T-shirt. Steroid Boy for sure. Total meathead.
“Hey, Bobby.” The meathead grinned. His bleached white teeth matched Jewel’s outfit. “You come to arrest somebody?”
“Greg,” Chin said, taking a guess.
“Graham,” the meathead said, losing the grin.
Greg. Graham. Whatever.
Chin spoke to Jewel. “Elle ready?”
“She was ready half an hour ago, when you were supposed to pick her up. You know the court order is to be strictly adhered to. I’m keeping a record.”
“I know.”
“Hi, Daddy.” Elle appeared from behind the dragon statue at the foot of the stairs. It faced inward, to bring in wealth and prosperity.
Feng shui.
Feng bullshit. The only money flowing in was what Chin paid Jewel.
Chin dropped to a crouch. “Hey, Sunshine. What are you? No. Don’t tell me. You’re the most beautiful butterfly in the world.”
“Yay! You guessed it.” Elle spun so the colorful butterfly wings shook and shimmered. She wore a pink leotard and pink plastic shoes.
“You think you should change your shoes?” The corn maze he intended to take her to would likely be muddy from the recent rain.
“These are butterfly shoes.”
“Okay,” he said. Just get her and go, his lawyer had told him. “You ready to go?”
“The mortgage is due first of next week,” Jewel said. “And you have her Thanksgiving weekend. It’s in the court order. So get the time off.”
She made Elle sound like a burden. “Grab your jacket, Sunshine. Let’s get going.”
His daughter took her coat from the bannister, picked up her backpack, and started toward him. Graham stuck out his arm, blocking Elle’s path. Chin took a step forward, then caught himself, but Jewel and the boyfriend both noticed.
“Hold on a second, little princess,” Graham said, grinning.
“Butterfly,” Elle said.
“Give me and your mother a little sugar.”
Elle looked stricken. It was all Chin could do to keep from snapping the bloated limb. Elle quickly buzzed Graham’s cheek, then bolted out the door. Chin glared at the meathead before turning to leave.
“You sure that thing is going to start?” the meathead yelled from the doorway. “Why don’t you buy yourself a new car?”
Chin turned. “You know, Greg—”
“Graham.”
“I carry epinephrine in the car for emergencies. It might help to reduce the swelling you got going on.”
Graham looked perplexed, uncertain. Meathead.
Chin smiled.
“He only swells in the right places,” Jewel quickly responded. Then she closed the door.
Chin sucked in several deep breaths as he drove away from the toxic, suffocating environment Jewel created. Jewel wanted to provoke—anything and everything to get under his skin, to gain any tactical advantage in the parenting plan. To use Elle. Chin took some delight in knowing that soon Jewel would be the meathead’s problem, for a short while anyway. His ex would create another toxic environment, suffocate the meathead until she tired of him, then belittle and demean and eventually discard.