The Final Seven (The Lightkeepers, #1)

Without waiting for permission, he stood and left the office.

The major watched him go, expression so perplexed, Micki had to fight back a laugh. The truth was, he was stuck with Harris, just as she was. He could shout, threaten, or beg, but Harris could do whatever the hell he wanted to.





Chapter Fourteen



Tuesday, July 9

10:15 A.M.


Zach waited for Mick outside Major Nichols’ office. Parker had run Angel Gomez’s social through the computer. She was clean—not even a parking ticket—and worked at a CBD diner named Teddy’s Po’boys.

Next stop, Teddy’s. With or without Mick.

He’d rather with. They were partners. And as Nichols had so elegantly pointed out, she was better at this cop thing than he was.

Bringing her along meant coming clean about Angel Gomez. She was gonna be pissed.

She emerged from the major’s office, saw him, and stopped. She frowned slightly. “What’s up?”

“What do you mean?”

“Cat. Canary. Swallowed.”

She had him there. “Ever heard of a CBD joint called Teddy’s?”

“Po’boys, right? Never been. Why?”

“Got a lead. We need to pay them a visit.”

“A lead, Hollywood?” She fell into step with him. “We don’t have a case.”

“We might. I’ll explain on the way.”

Neither spoke again until they were in the Taurus, A/C blasting. She angled in her seat to face him. “You better start talking, Harris. Because if you don’t, I’m gonna lose it.”

“I didn’t tell you everything. About the Ritchie scene.”

She started to sputter-cuss. A tricky combination of inarticulation and flaming language; artful really. Zach fought not to laugh.

“Finished?” he asked after a moment.

“Not nearly.”

He went on anyway. “The IDs we got out of Ritchie’s safe, one of them was special.”

That got her attention. “How so?”

He eased out of the parking spot. “You know that energy I followed from the Ritchie scene? It was all over that ID.”

“But none of the others.”

“Right.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Neither do I, not really.”

“Of course you don’t.”

He ignored the sarcasm. “What I do know, for certain, is I need to find Angel Gomez.”

“The ID holder.”

“Yes. I think she’s in trouble.”

“And that call you took in Major Nichols office?”

“Parker. He ran her social.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And came up with Teddy’s. Her employer?”

“Yes.”

She released a tight sounding breath. “You took this to Parker first. Why?”

“We were a little busy.”

“You didn’t trust me.”

“I didn’t think you’d get it.”

“But you do now? Please.”

“We’ve come a long way in less than twenty-four hours.”

“This is so flippin’ fucked, dude. On so many levels. I can’t even— Never mind.”

“I get it.” He turned onto St. Charles, then grinned at her. “But what’re you gonna do? You’re stuck with me.”

“You’re so right about that,” she muttered, then pointed. “Teddy’s is on the left. Park by the hydrant.”

He did, and moments later they stepped into the restaurant. The bell over the door jingled and a big man in a white apron called out a greeting. They’d missed the breakfast crowd and beaten the lunch rush. The few customers in the establishment looked like tourists.

They crossed to the counter. “Morning,” Zach said, smiling at the man. “How are you today?”

“Doing well.” He plucked two menus from a stack. “Counter, table, or To Go?”

“None of the above.” Zach smiled again. “NOPD. Detective Harris. My partner, Detective Dare.”

He glanced at both their shields, then nodded. “What can I do for you, Detectives?”

“You the manager?”

“Owner. Named after me.” He smiled and patted his rotund belly. “Walking advertisement.”

Zach returned the smile. “Smells great in here. Can’t wait to try your food.”

“I appreciate that. What’s up?”

“Looking for one of your employees. Angel Gomez.”

“Angel? She in some sort of trouble?”

“Not that we know of. But we’re concerned for her welfare. Her ID was in the possession of a murdered drug dealer.”

The crash of plates shattering came from behind them. Zach swung around. A slim, overly made-up blond stood frozen, staring at them, eyes wide and face pale. On the floor around her lay an entire tray of food, drinks, and tableware.

Bingo.

“Fran,” the owner exclaimed, coming around the counter, “wake up!”

Zach crossed to her and started helping pick up the broken tableware. He caught her hand as she reached for a particularly jagged piece of glass. “Let me get that.”

Afraid. For Angel. Guilt. Regret.

He released her hand and deposited the piece of glass on the tray. “Wouldn’t want you to cut yourself,” he said softly, sending her a sympathetic smile.

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