The Trapped Girl (Tracy Crosswhite #4)

“You underestimate me, Captain,” Faz said.

“Yeah.” Nolasco turned his attention to Tracy. “And I’m not buying that bullshit that you got out the DNA kits before we lost jurisdiction, but I’m being told to leave it be, so I’m going to leave it be. But let me be very clear about this. You screw this up and the hammer is going to fall hard on all four of you. It’s like Martinez said—you wanted this case. You got it. So get it done.” Nolasco left the bull pen, stopped, and turned back. “One other thing. You’re to keep Pierce County fully informed of every development.”

“What?” Tracy said, not relishing the thought of sharing any information with Stan Fields. “Why?”

“Because that’s the agreement reached,” Nolasco said. “You provide them with copies of your reports, witness interviews, and anything that has to do with Andrea Strickland. I’m assuming that’s not going to be a problem?”

Nobody spoke.

“Good.” Nolasco departed.

“Hey, it’s a victory,” Faz said. “Let’s not let him make it feel hollow.”

Bennett Lee called Tracy shortly after Nolasco departed their bull pen. Lee wanted to read her a media statement SPD intended to make at an afternoon news conference. He said he’d keep it simple. He’d state that, after DNA analysis, it had been determined that the woman in the crab pot was not Andrea Strickland, the Portland resident believed to have disappeared on Mount Rainier. Tracy asked him why he had to say anything, and Lee told her the brass could not bury the fact that the victim was not Strickland. Lee agreed not to disclose the identity of the woman in the pot, pending notification of next of kin. That meant Tracy would have to expedite any interview of Graham Strickland. Lee would further advise the media that since the body had been found in Seattle, the Pierce County Sheriff’s office had voluntarily agreed to relinquish jurisdiction and return the investigation to the Seattle Police Department, but that both agencies would continue to cooperate with each another.

“‘Voluntarily agreed to relinquish jurisdiction’?” Tracy said. “Did you come up with that language?”

“That’s how they want to spin it,” Lee said. “I have a news conference at five if you’re interested.”



When Tracy walked into her kitchen at the end of the day, Dan greeted her with a kiss. He’d formed hamburger patties and was in the process of making a salad. Rex and Sherlock gave her a perfunctory greeting but quickly returned to Dan’s side, noses lifted to the counter and eyes glued to the plate of beef.

“When it comes to raw meat, we’re a couple of brussels sprouts,” Dan said. “You made good time.”

“One of the few advantages of working late. No traffic. We got the crab pot case back.”

“Saw it on the news.” Dan carried the plate of hamburger patties out to the barbecue on the deck. “Vanpelt didn’t pull any punches.”

“That’s why we all love her.”

As word leaked that the woman in the crab pot was not Andrea Strickland, speculation rose in the media about the identity of the woman and what it meant. Was Andrea Strickland alive, dead on the mountain, dead someplace else? It had led to a packed news conference and made Bennett Lee’s press conference the lead on the local evening news, which the four detectives had watched together in the B Team’s bull pen, along with half a dozen other detectives from their section, and the Burglary Section down the hall.

Dan picked up the plate of patties. “Should I put these on or do you want a chance to unwind?”

“No, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

“You want a hamburger bun with yours?”

“I better not,” she said, following him and the dogs out onto the deck. “If I’m going to fit into anything resembling a wedding dress, I better go easy on the carbs.”

“You given that much thought?” Dan placed the burgers on the already-warm grill. They sizzled and sparked a small flame.

“I thought I’d surprise you.”

Dan nodded, spatula in hand, but she knew him well enough to know he had something else on his mind. “You don’t want to be surprised?” she asked.

“No, it’s all good. You want cheese on yours?”

“You know, if we’re going to get married we’re both going to need to do a better job of being honest with each other.”

He gave her a soft smile. “I think you should wear a wedding dress.”

It had been the last thing she expected him to say, and she stumbled to respond. “You mean an actual wedding dress with a veil and train and push-up bustier?”

“Definitely the push-up bustier,” he said, closing the lid on the grill. Smoke seeped out the back. “And I think you should ask Kins to give you away.”

She chuckled softly at the thought of it, then realized Dan was serious. “Are you talking about a traditional wedding, Dan O’Leary?”

“I am.”

“You do realize we’ve both been married already.”

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