Home To Stay

The police were in and out of their home as if it had a revolving door. They visited Kenny and found Charlie’s stuffed dog on the floor of his car. They’d speculated that Charlie had followed Shannon out of the house and that while she and Kenny had gone into the garage to get her hiking boots, he’d hidden on the floor in the backseat of the car and sneaked after them when they went on their hike.

A police officer and his search-and-rescue dog were brought in to find Charlie.

They discovered his body the next day.

He must’ve gotten lost in the forest and had drowned in a creek. The K-9 officer had tears in his eyes when he told them. Shannon hadn’t blamed the police. She could tell they’d done everything possible to find Charlie. The K-9 officer had just been brought in too late, as he’d been deployed on another assignment. She’d concluded that if there were more police officers with dogs, they could’ve found Charlie in time. She knew her parents felt the same way, because they made a donation in Charlie’s memory to the San Diego Police Department Foundation to acquire and train a police service dog in search and rescue. Shannon had asked that the dog be named after Charlie. The foundation had agreed.

It was back then that Shannon had resolved to become a police officer working in the K-9 Unit. If she could save one little boy like Charlie, dedicating her life to policing would all be worth it...

Now, here she was, and she’d had that chance. And she’d failed.

* * *

IT WAS WELL past eight when Logan finished the last of his paperwork and turned off his computer. He said silent thanks that Ariana was so understanding about the odd hours he had to work. He smiled, thinking that she’d soon be his wife. Logan wouldn’t have imagined it six months ago, when he’d first met the cool and competent head of security and loss prevention for San Diego International Airport.

Logan retrieved his duffel, whistled for Boomer, his explosives-detection dog, and left his office.

He’d thought that he’d been alone in the squad room, but he was wrong. Shannon was leaning back in her chair, her feet propped up on another one, her legs crossed at the ankles. She had her laptop on her lap, but she was completely still. He couldn’t tell if she’d dozed off or not, but the computer screen was dark. He knew she’d been working long hours since Cal had left on vacation, and this should’ve been her day off.

“Hey, Shannon,” he said quietly as he approached her.

She dropped her feet to the floor and nearly knocked the laptop off her thighs as she bolted up. The jostling had the screen coming out of hibernation. “Logan. Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

He smiled. “Obviously.”

She hurriedly shut down her laptop, but not before he saw the smiling, freckle-faced kid’s picture.

He pulled the chair she’d had her feet on forward and sat. What would another fifteen or twenty minutes matter when he suspected he knew what was going on. He signaled for Boomer to lie down. The beautiful near-black Dutch Malinois/shepherd mix did, right next to Darwin.

“Shannon, the boy in that picture is your brother?” He searched his memory for the child’s name. “It’s Charlie?”

Shannon nodded.

“You want to talk about it?”

She took a deep breath, then blew it out. “I just relived it in my mind. I’d prefer not to go through it again. At least not now.” She placed a finger on her touch pad, fiddled with it a bit and clicked. She turned the screen toward Logan. “And that’s Dylan.”

Logan noted the similarities in age, coloring and the wide, gap-toothed grins.

“I don’t want what happened to Charlie to happen to Dylan.” She raised her hand. “Oh, I know the situations are entirely different, but I don’t want a cop—me or someone else—to have to tell Sawyer Evans that his little boy is...is gone. I don’t want Sawyer to have to go through what my parents did. To live with having lost a child.” She reached down and stroked the top of Darwin’s head, then shook her own. “No parent should have to endure that. I know what it felt like to lose my brother and to carry the blame—”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Blame?”

With a resigned sigh, she gave him the highlights.

“You’re not to blame,” Logan said vehemently when she’d finished, but he understood her better now.

“Maybe not. However, it doesn’t mean I don’t still carry the guilt. Reason is one thing. Emotion, something else altogether.” She paused for a long moment. “Is it worse knowing someone took him? That it wasn’t an accident?”

Logan understood that the question was rhetorical, but irrespective, he didn’t have the answer. He and Ariana had discussed having children, and the idea of anything like that happening to one of them petrified him. “At least we have a chance of getting Dylan back safe and sound,” he said gently.

Logan still had to address with Shannon the fact that she’d withheld material information about herself, information that could’ve impacted the specialization he’d assigned her. Especially considering the particulars she’d just shared. But looking at her and how fragile she seemed he knew that now was not the appropriate time.

As for the abduction, if they talked it through, they might come up with something they’d missed. If not, it would at least serve to get her mind off her own loss. “Okay, let’s go over what we have.” Logan looked up when he heard the squad room door open. Seeing Ariana stride in—with her confident, no-nonsense gait, and carrying a large bag of Chinese takeout—he appreciated again how fortunate he was to have her in his life. The more he got to know her, the more he respected her intelligence and agile mind. He couldn’t ignore her beauty, either, with all that long, dark hair and her exotic features.

She dealt with many significant issues in her job. Having her perspective on this situation could help.

“I guess we won’t be going hungry while we do it,” Logan added. “Let’s move this into the conference room,” he said as he rose to give Ariana a kiss.

CHAPTER FOUR (#u1cda32a7-428c-5674-a338-a4a643e28692)

SHANNON WAS BACK in the squad room early the next morning. She watched the flurry of activity around her and knew most of it had to do with Dylan Evans.

The boy was still missing.

She, Logan and Ariana hadn’t come up with any great revelations the evening before. Judging by the bustle around her, neither had the investigative team.

She recognized the two FBI special agents who’d been assigned to the case—Leary and Wilson. Bigelow from the Special Response Team was there too, and she knew most of the other officers, who were from the SDPD. They were filing into the conference room.

When she saw Logan enter the squad room, she hurried over to him.

“I know I’m not needed actively on the case right now, but is it okay if I sit in on the briefing?”

He looked at her sympathetically. “You have a heavy workload with Cal gone. Are you sure you have the time?”

“It matters,” she said softly.

Logan held her gaze, then slowly nodded. “Okay. Good training for you,” he said, making her feel less awkward about her personal interest in the case.

She started toward the conference room, but he forestalled her with a hand on her arm.

“If you need to leave anytime during the briefing, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

She felt his comment was a discreet reference to her emotional state the evening before. It told Shannon that Logan realized she wanted in, not just because of Dylan but also because of Charlie. She was fortunate to have such an understanding boss. “Thanks,” she said with a grateful smile.

She took a seat along the back wall, near the door rather than at the table. She was an observer, not a participant. And it would make for an unobtrusive exit should she need to leave.

“First, to recap,” Bigelow began. “The missing boy is four-year-old Dylan Evans. Dylan’s been missing for over a day, and there’s been no ransom demand. No contact with his family or the police. Dylan’s father, Sawyer Evans, is a former high-profile prosecutor with the San Diego County District Attorney’s office and is now a professor at Thomas Jefferson School of Law. Evans says he stopped practicing law and became a professor shortly after a challenging case involving a young man, Stewart Rankin, from a rich and privileged family.” He swept his gaze around the room. “Many of you will remember that Rankin killed five people in a motor-vehicle accident while driving under the influence.”

A hand went up and Bigelow pointed at the uniform.

“That’s the guy who’d been out partying with his buddies. A stag before his wedding. Drove a high-end Porsche Carrera, right?”

Bigelow nodded. “Yeah, that’s Rankin. Evans was the prosecutor. He won the case. Rankin was sentenced to twelve years in prison. His family has money and they threw a considerable amount at his defense team. Evans says the trial was brutal and his involvement, the effort and energy required, took a toll on his personal life. His wife, Jeannette Evans, left him and their one-year-old son shortly afterward, without discussion or warning. She didn’t return home from her fitness club one day. His workload had been an issue between them ever since Dylan’s arrival. Although the case was technically still open, since there was no indication of foul play, the assumption was that she’d had enough and left. There was some speculation that post-partum depression might have been a factor, but nothing conclusive was known in that regard.”

That was news to Shannon. Sawyer must have been heartbroken and reeling from his wife’s desertion. She raised her hand. “Is Jeannette a possible suspect?” she asked when Bigelow signaled to her to speak.

“I was just getting to that. I checked the case file. She simply disappeared. Vanished without a trace. Her car was in the club’s parking lot. There was nothing captured on the facility’s security cameras. Subsequent to her disappearance, there was no use of credit cards, accessing of bank accounts or contact with anyone she’d known. Ultimately and on that basis, the detectives concluded she was more than likely deceased. This is where the question of post-partum depression arose. As I said, the case remains open, but since there was no evidence of a struggle or any indication to the contrary, foul play was ruled out.”