Some Kind of Hero (Troubleshooters #17)

“I don’t know,” Susan said. “And frankly, I don’t care.”

“Do you have their phone numbers?” Maddie asked. “Or maybe an address?”

Susan looked from Maddie to Dingo. “Chuck and Maisy are divorced—both remarried. So it’s Charles and Donna Fiera, and Douglas and Maisy Clark. They all live in Sacramento. Get a phone book and look ’em up.” And with that she tippy-tapped away.

“A phone book,” Maddie fumed as she got back into Dingo’s car. “What, is she seventy? Who even has a phone book anymore?”

“That camera really wasn’t mine,” Dingo felt compelled to say.

“I know that.” Maddie aimed some of her ire at him as she dug in the hard plastic pocket on the door and came up with a scrap of paper and pen. She scribbled down the names Susan had rattled off. “Don’t be stupid. That whole thing reeks of Fee.” She jammed both paper and pen into the cupholder and fastened her seat belt. “Will you drive already?”

“Oh,” he said, clearing his throat. “Um. I don’t have enough gas to get to Los Angeles, let alone Sacra—”

“We don’t need to go to Sacramento,” Maddie interrupted. “At least not yet. We just need to get to wherever you can hack into someone’s wi-fi so we can look up those stupid phone numbers.”

Dingo nodded. That he could do. They were trying not to use Maddie’s phone, for fear her dad would somehow be able to track her. And he saved his own limited data usage for emergencies. But there were nonsecure wi-fi hotspots in virtually every neighborhood—and he’d found and used them all as he’d boondocked his way through the Greater San Diego area. He pulled out of the parking lot, and headed for one of his favorite camping spots—a dead-end street near an upscale apartment complex. They could overnight there, too. It was far enough off the main road with no easy turnaround, which meant the police wouldn’t drive by and hassle them.

Still, the lack of proximity to a bathroom would make it way less comfortable than last night’s stay in a truck stop parking lot—and, of course, just because Dingo hadn’t been hassled in the past didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen tonight. Two people exhaling all night long made his car windows steam up twice as quickly. Someone out walking their dog could see that and call in a complaint which would make the police drive past and…

It was entirely possible he wanted to park there because he longed to get caught—to get Maddie back into the safety of her father’s more-capable hands.

Because she was only freaking fifteen years old, and Nelson was a freaking lunatic.

“Were there any of me?” Maddie asked, startling him out of his reverie. “Probably not, because Susan would’ve recognized me.” She laughed her disgust. “Of course, that doesn’t mean Fiona doesn’t have ’em.”

At Dingo’s obvious confusion, she explained, “Photos. From the camera in the bathroom. I’ve been there. Before it burned down. Susan’s condo. Never when Fee’s aunt was home, though. But I took a shower there once—after Fee dumped a pot of tomato sauce on me. In hindsight, I’m sure that she did it on purpose—it was totally in my hair so I had to take a shower, so she’d then have naked photos of me. Shit.” She looked over at him, her eyes worried in the light from the dashboard. “If she was trying to get you into serious trouble…”

Yup. If naked pix of Maddie showed up on Dingo’s computer or phone, well, wouldn’t that be some kind of extra-awful felony, since the girl was underage? Forget the impending wrath of her Navy SEAL daddy….

“We’ll find them,” Maddie decided. “And delete them. And then we’ll find and call Fiona.”

“If she’s at her mum’s we won’t get through.”

“Then we’ll find the money we need for the gas to get to Sacramento.”

“Find?” Dingo asked. “Like, just lying there on the street? Or find, like, in the cold, dark, locked house of someone who’s out for the evening.”

“We are not thieves,” Maddie told him sternly.

“That’s all well and good, love, but it’s five hundred miles to Sacramento from here. Gas’ll cost a small fortune—this creature guzzles the stuff—and that’s just one way. We’ll also have to get back. And I feel compelled to point out that even if we do drive all the way there and actually find Fee—which is questionable—she’s just gonna tell us she’s already spent the cash and then laugh in our faces,” Dingo said.

“Good,” Maddie said. “Because we’re gonna record it. The whole conversation. We’ll get her to admit to everything—the camera, the photos, the money she stole from Nelson—even starting the fire in Susan’s condo.”

“And then what?” Dingo asked. “We’ll have a blackmail video, but you can’t blackmail someone who doesn’t give a shit.”

“Someone will give a shit,” Maddie said. “Fee’s father gives a shit. And even if he doesn’t, at the very least, we can use the video to protect you.”

Dingo glanced at her again, but she was serious—gazing back at him with what he’d come to think of as her warrior’s face, filled with courage and resolve.

“I’m ’sposed to be taking care of you, love,” he whispered.

Maddie nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t also try to take care of you. You’re all I’ve got, Ding.”

And just like that, he was done.

She was still talking. “I think I know where we can get some money—not a lot, but enough for the gas to Sacramento. I have this crazy great-aunt who was always trying to give Lisa these stupid family heirlooms. We can go visit her in the morning, and maybe walk out with an armload of stuff that we can pawn. It won’t be worth a whole lot, but…” She shrugged.

“That sounds like a bloody brilliant plan,” Dingo said, and she smiled back at him.

He’d been goners long before she’d said that—You’re all I’ve got—but now?

He was toast.



I didn’t know the city all that well, so I was just driving around trying to find the ocean. See, I’d just spent two years on a really remote island in Indonesia, and the ocean was in my blood.

I was sixteen. I was the new kid at the high school, which sucked as much back then as it probably still sucks today. I’d spent a lot of time alone over those past few years, and the crowds and the noise of the city were intense. So, yeah, I was in my father’s car and looking for the beach—while doing some heavy hating on San Diego in general.