Bruce stepped closer, his expression at once fierce and compassionate. “I know how hard this must be, but I promise you we’ll do everything we can to bring Pete’s killer to justice.”
“That’s not good enough!” she said as a tear leaked from her eye. She wiped it with her wrist and glared at the ceiling, trying to regain her composure.
“Think of the bigger picture here,” Bruce said calmly, his eyebrows knitting together. “We’re trying to bring down the whole thing, stop these bastards from selling kids like slaves.” He moved closer. “Pete would want that, don’t you think?”
Cassidy squeezed her eyes shut. Yes, Pete would want that, of course he would. “I can’t let this go, Bruce.” She remembered the flashback she’d had in San Francisco, how the smell of frying shrimp had sent her right back to Mel’s treehouse and the fight of her life. Afterwards, she had come to the realization that no matter what she did, the experience would never leave her alone. She would be forever scarred. “I’ve already given up too much.”
Bruce exhaled a tight sigh, shaking his head.
“He could decide to go back into hiding after this. I can’t take that chance.”
Bruce scrubbed his face with his hands, then let his arms drop to his sides. She saw the strain this was putting on him, but no way was she letting it go.
“How will you even get there?” he asked. “You don’t have a car.”
“I’ll rent one.”
Cassidy heard him curse.
A moment passed where she saw a slow grimace take hold of his features. “All right,” he said finally.
Cassidy watched him warily. “You mean, I can go?”
“Yes, damn it. But if I think for one minute that something’s gonna go south, we’re outta there.”
“You mean you’re coming? But he said to come alone.”
He gave her a warning look. “He’ll get over it.”
“What if he won’t talk if you’re there?”
“That’s a risk we’re going to have to take.”
During the drive, she noticed that Bruce drove exactly seven miles over the speed limit. She also noticed the way he monitored his rearview mirror. But was he always this watchful, or did meeting Brad Sawyer present a special threat? Cassidy sat back and watched the summer-brown landscape pass while the questions rolled around and around in her mind. Finally, they arrived at the entrance to the park.
“I’m going in first,” he said, glancing at her. “And only when I say are you to come out, you got it?”
Cassidy nodded, her muscles coiled so tight she wondered if she would spring from the vehicle like a jack-in-the-box.
The narrow road curved through a wooded area, the giant trees casting broad shadows across the meadows. They broke out of the forest to a wide bay flanked by a rocky beach, the blue water as calm as a lake. After turning alongside, Cassidy spotted the boat launch and neighboring picnic area. “There!” she said, pointing.
Bruce’s eyes were sweeping from the calm bay to the forest. Looking uneasy, he pulled the car into a gravel parking area facing a crowded playground where children were hanging from bars, swinging on the swing set, or climbing the giant spider web while parents spotted them or chatted in clusters from the sidelines. Near a picnic table on the other side stood a young man in a gray hoodie, ball cap, and shorts.
“Stay here,” Bruce said, lowering the windows.
“No,” she said, pushing out of the door. “What if he runs when he sees you?”
“Cassidy!” he barked, but she was already out of the car. She hurried past the noisy playground.
Bruce caught up. “You are going to drive me to drink, you know that?”
Ahead, Cassidy saw the man stiffen.
“Brad?” she asked him as they approached.
“Who’s that?” he said, scowling at Bruce. “I said to come alone.”
“Sorry,” Cassidy said in a rush. “It was the only way.” She glanced sideways at Bruce, whose quick eyes were laser-beamed onto Brad.
“Are you a cop?” Brad said, his eyes flashing.
“FBI,” Bruce said, showing him his badge.
Brad’s eyes went wide. “What are you doing with the FBI?” he asked Cassidy.
Cassidy glanced at Bruce. “It’s a long story.”
Brad looked away. She watched the emotions play out behind his eyes—stay, or flee. He cursed. “Since that night I’ve had to take…certain precautions.”
“Has someone been threatening you?” Bruce asked.
Brad shook his head. “It’s more of a gut feeling.”
“You said something about a story,” Cassidy said.
Brad wiped his hands on his shorts, his gaze roving the surrounding area. He nodded. “Let’s sit down.”
Cassidy sat across from him. Bruce took one last look in all directions, then settled in next to her.
Brad adjusted his ball cap, sliding it up then back down. His smooth, youthful face and athletic physique made her think minor league baseball player. “This is all off the record, okay?”
Cassidy nodded, and out of the corner of her eye saw Bruce do the same.
“Pete had met with someone earlier that night,” Brad said after a long pause in which she saw the fear play across his face. “I don’t know who,” he added quickly, his gaze switching from Cassidy to Bruce.
“What was the story you two were working on?” Cassidy asked.
Brad sighed and focused on a spot on the table where he began to pick at a sliver of wood. “When we met, I was trying to recruit him to work with me at Frontline News.” He brushed the sliver away and sat back, crossing his arms. “It’s an independent media group in the Bay Area. I told him something I was working on and he seemed intrigued. He said it was the kind of story he was dying to crack.”
“Which was?” Cassidy asked.
Brad’s lips drew into a grimace. “Something was happening to the city’s teen runaways. Especially girls.”
A chill went down Cassidy’s spine as a memory clicked into place. She and Pete were walking back from berry picking. Was it something about a doctor?
“He told me about these women he’d seen in Sicily and the angle there with the mafia.”
