Tracy took Nolasco’s advice and gave Billy Williams a copy of Lynn Hoff’s photograph to give to the sergeant in vice. She asked that patrol officers show it around the city’s well-known prostitution areas. She didn’t do it because she thought it was a good idea, or because she thought it would yield results. She did it so she could tell Nolasco she’d done as he’d suggested, and he’d been wrong. Lynn Hoff might have been doing something illegal, but Tracy was convinced Hoff wasn’t a hooker or a druggie, and she wasn’t homeless, not if she was spending that much money to change her appearance and paying rent up front.
She’d been on the run.
Tracy left the office at just after nine, which was well past when her shift ordinarily ended, but early for the first forty-eight hours working a murder. It would take Del time to go through missing persons. Funk wouldn’t have the toxicology report for a couple weeks, and DNA analysis would take almost as long. They didn’t find Hoff’s fingerprints in AFIS, and Tracy doubted her DNA would be in CODIS.
She drove home. The sight of Dan’s Suburban parked in front of the gated courtyard brought a smile to her face, the way the sight of his bike lying on its side in her parents’ front yard used to make her smile when she was twelve. She hadn’t been in love with him then, far from it, but Dan had always been fun to have around.
They’d reconnected in Cedar Grove, when hunters discovered Sarah’s remains in a shallow grave and Tracy went home to lay her only sister to rest, and to pursue her killer. Dan attended the funeral service. They’d been dating since, though they saw each other more now that he had moved from the North Cascades to a five-acre farm in Redmond. So far, the extra time together had not diminished her romantic feelings for him—or his for her. She’d thought of marriage, though neither had broached that topic. Each had been married and divorced, and neither appeared in a rush to make things official. Dan had recently hit several large jury verdicts, including the recent verdict against the Los Angeles company, and he was not in a hurry to get back into any prolonged litigation. Instead, he’d used his free time to remodel the house on the farm—work he enjoyed and did well. He’d remodeled his parents’ entire home in Cedar Grove. Dan would work on the remodel during the day, then drive out to West Seattle to cook her dinner and spend the night. He was the better cook, and as crazy as it sounded for a woman who carried a Glock .40 and could shoot faster and more accurately than any officer on the force, Tracy slept better with Dan and the two dogs in the house.
Rex and Sherlock greeted Tracy as she came through the side door from the garage into the kitchen, though it was without their usual enthusiasm and seemed more obligatory. They quickly retreated out the sliding glass door to the deck, and plopped down on their sides, their tongues hanging from their mouths, panting, and otherwise looking miserable. Thank God they were shorthaired.
Shirtless, Dan stood on the deck wearing cargo shorts and flip-flops and looked anything but miserable. He kept himself in good shape running and lifting weights several times a week and getting out for hikes in the mountains on the weekends. In the winter, he still skied like he was eighteen. His stomach remained flat and his chest well developed, with just the right amount of chest hair. At the moment, he wasn’t wearing his round wire-rimmed glasses that, along with his curly hair, made him look like a college professor.
“What did you do to them?” Tracy asked, nodding to the dogs as she stepped out the sliding glass door.
“Just a walk,” Dan said. “You know they’re big babies in the heat.” He opened the grill and quickly became enveloped in a cloud of smoke.
“Do I need to bring out the fire extinguisher?” Tracy said, closing the sliding glass door so the smoke didn’t fill the house.
Dan fanned a burst of flames and flipped a piece of chicken with tongs before quickly closing the hood and stepping back. “If you know any way to barbecue chicken without starting a three-alarm blaze I’m all ears.” They kissed and Dan gestured to a table between two deck chairs. “I poured you a glass of wine.”
“Thanks. I’m going to change first. You look a lot more comfortable than I feel.”
Dan threw back his head and spread his arms. Though dusk, it remained warm and he had always loved the heat. Even as kids growing up in Cedar Grove, Tracy remembered his unbridled joy on hot summer days. “The hotter the better,” he used to say, then he’d rattle off all the things they would do—like riding their bikes into the hills and jumping from the rope swing into the river.
“The weather stays like this, you may never go back to work,” Tracy said.
“I wish. I have yet another trip down to Los Angeles to deal with my favorite opposing counsel.”