Chapter 33
K.J. was almost certain she’d seen the teenager before. Maybe the day after what had happened at the Barratts. She could have sworn she’d seen that same girl watching from the crowd. Something about the teenager had stood out.
She’d worn the Finley Creek Academy uniform that almost all the kids in Hughes Heights wore.
“I know that with all the shit going on in this neighborhood, and with security probably being in on it, the last thing I’d let a teenage girl do is walk around alone.”
Well, she agreed with Trace on that, at least. K.J. knew what could happen to a young girl when the wrong kind of men noticed her. “I know.”
“Sometimes, I think more scum of the earth are hidden among the rich than people want to think about.”
Well, she agreed with that, too. “No kidding.”
“So…tell me…what do you know about the people that live in the great neighborhood of Hughes Heights? You grow up around here?”
“No. That I did not.” She smirked at him. He was only slightly tolerable. “I grew up…around. In foster care. You?”
“Sorry. Don’t mean to pry.” He was looking at her again. He was as curious as a puppy, and not nearly as cute. “I grew up near the Oklahoma border, actually. Parents died when I was eleven. Moved in with my brother, then. He was twenty-four. Got stuck with six of us. We were a regular sitcom.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. We made do. Now…let’s go poke around Hughes Heights. You seriously think the security boys were involved in what went down with Grundenman?”
K.J. thought for a moment. “I do. This place is monitored closely. From what I’ve heard that just increased since Victor Scott almost killed Jake MacNamara’s wife and everything.
No one wants the common criminal in their backyards.
Security would come in handy—unless security is part of the criminal.
And…someone has to be controlling them, right? ”
“So…let’s go poke around. See if we can get some of the good citizens of Hughes Heights to spill?”
“Good luck, but we can try.”
“Tell me something, is it true that half the brass at Wichita Falls lives here, too?”
K.J. nodded. She’d been digging in that direction herself. “Hamler, Winkler, Stillman, Newcomb, Guttiero, Ardson, Daniel McKellen’s father, and MacNamara lives here with his wife now.”
“So you are telling me that Jake MacNamara—that asshat, excuse my French, somehow met and married a millionairess, and ended up here. And he didn’t retire?
Don’t you think that is strange? There are dirty cops and dirty cops usually mean money.
Someone has to have money to pay for all of this, right? ”
“No. I knew Jake before he married her. His wife is the sister of his niece’s husband. I’ve seen them together a hundred times now. Jake adores her.”
“Unless he’s lying. You really don’t know who you can trust, you know?”
Well, wasn’t that the truth? “It’s not Jake. But…you might be on to something. When all else fails, follow the money.”
Of course, it wasn’t their case. Not really. Dom Acardi was taking full point on this. They were just there to help Dom do his dirty work, so to speak. K.J. was okay with that. Dom was one of the good ones. She’d bet her life on that.
“Just drive, Trace. If you want to go ask questions, anyway. It’s almost end of shift. And I…have a date tonight.”
“Oh? Should I ask who? Or is it too soon?”
“I’m going to be there with Brett tonight, if you must know. My partner.”
“I am almost convinced you don’t want me around, sweetcakes.”
Well, wasn’t he the smart one?