Page 27 of Dirty (Chicago Underground 5)
His eyes grew distant. “It was so many years ago. Long enough to come to terms with it, long enough to give up the ghost. As a cop, I can figure out the facts, same as if it were a case. She’s likely dead. If she’s alive, she’s probably not in Chicago anymore.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I’ve looked. Everywhere.” He ran his hands through his hair, then hissed out a breath as he found a sore spot. “I can’t let her go. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s here, right outside my grasp. But I have to accept that she’s gone. All I’m doing now is investigating her death. If she were here, and if she were alive, I would have found her by now.”
“There’s one other option you left out.”
Green eyes locked on mine. “What’s that?”
It occurred to me, because it hit upon my own hidden desire. If she was alive, if she was in Chicago… “She may not want to be found.”
Chapter Thirteen
Luke reclined on the chair, stress wrinkling the skin between his brows. I knew he was thinking about his sister. I wished I could help, though if I knew for sure she had overdosed or met some other grisly fate, I wasn’t sure I could tell him. It didn’t matter because his description of her matched half the prostitutes I’d ever met. Even Jenny, from the blowout at the corporate party, fit the physical description.
Except she was too young, and so was I. With the beginnings of leathery skin and crinkles at his eyes when he smiled, Luke was in his midthirties. At thirty, his sister would be ancient in the realm of prostitution. If I had met a woman that old working for Henri, I would have remembered.
But I hadn’t. “I’m sorry.”
“I know it’s too late to help her. I just wish I knew what happened to her. Then maybe I could…”
“Avenge her?”
His lids were hooded. “Maybe I could move on.”
A shiver ran through me, a sense of camaraderie. That was what I wanted too—for myself. Both of us were trapped by the ghosts of our pasts, him by his sister and me by my father.
“What then?” I asked. “Would you still work for the CPD?”
He shrugged. “Being a cop is all I know, but the only reason I became one was to find Daisy. I couldn’t get them to help me, to care about her. So I figured if I was on the inside, I could look for her myself. I didn’t understand then how many girls go missing, how little time there is. You can’t do this job and get choked up about every little injustice. I turned into the cops I hated. Putting in my hours and, at the end of the day, barely making a difference.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You did a lot for me. You were the one who convinced me to quit.”
He laughed sharply. “Some good that did you.”
“Hey, things aren’t so bad.” As I spoke the words, I realized they were true. This cottage felt like it was a million miles from civilization—and from danger. In the whole world, there was only the two of us. The darkness and distance wove a cocoon around us¸ keeping the scary predators and unkind world out of sight and out of mind.
“How long can we stay here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “From my talk with Todd, it’s clear Henri has gone to ground. I have a few people who can help me with tracking him down, but I can coordinate that from here. It’s a secure location, completely untraceable. We can stay here until we find him.”
I thought of Henri’s new hideout, the Barracks. But if I told Luke, we would have to leave. If I told him, the cocoon would dissolve. Henri would still be there a week from now, but I would never have this chance again. Of course, it was selfish. This wasn’t just about me or Claire. Luke wanted to take Henri down for reasons of his own. He might finally get closure on his sister. He certainly wouldn’t thank me for withholding information that could help. But I couldn’t make myself say the words. I couldn’t destroy the one thing I had longed for.
I looked away, as if the lie of omission were written in my eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You didn’t get hurt in the fight, did you?”
I swallowed my guilt. “No, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
He stood. “Sure, let me show you the bedroom.”
He led me to a small room, which had a large bed and an oak side table and dresser. Across the bed, a ruffled bedspread with large white flowers was both ostentatious and humble at the same time. Matching drapes covered the windows.
“It came with the place,” he said from behind me. “In case you were thinking of mocking me.”
“It suits you.”
“I have always felt that about magnolias.”
