The Drazen World: The California Limited (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Catherine C. Heywood

Author:Catherine C. Heywood [Heywood, Catherine C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01J6PUA9K
Publisher: Kindle Worlds
Published: 2016-07-25T23:00:00+00:00

“I need you to add the name ‘Mae Wilson’ to that description,” said Jack. He had gone to the police station right after hanging up with Artie.

“Mae Wilson,” Magnus asked, seeming perturbed as he fished the report out of his paperwork.

“’Mae Wilson, otherwise known as Minnie.’ I just found out that she answers to two names.”

Magnus nodded as he took it down. “Still looking for her, huh?”

As if it weren’t obvious. Jack flicked a cutting glare at him. “Yes. Listen, can you do a search for Wilson in and around Racine, Wisconsin? Milwaukee, too.”

Magnus shook his head. “That’s not really how these things work.”

“Really? Tell me, how do they work?”

“An adult woman. Suitcase in her hand. Beautiful, ya said. Stars in her eyes, I bet. Probably wanting to be the next Gloria Swanson. So she didn’t stick around for a ride. I’m supposed to call all units? Ignorant mick,” he added under his breath.

“What did you just say to me?”

It was nothing, Jack told himself. He had heard it before. But, no. It Wasn’t. Nothing. Not here. In Boston it had been part of the fabric of the city, a tacit agreement forged over decades. Brahmin Boston looked down their dignified noses at the Irish while the Irish quietly amassed all the vulgar power and wealth.

Not in LA. He had heard, he had hoped that it would be different here. A place where last names didn’t matter. Where half of them were checked at the door never to be reclaimed.

Magnus smiled blandly. “How long did you say you knew her?”

Jack chewed his lips. He knew how the answer would sound.

“Two and a half days.”

Again Magnus nodded, now condescendingly. “She must have really been something. A sweet dip.”

Jack got in his face, his fingers curling into his palms so they wouldn’t curl around the officer’s neck. Never let them be right, his father always said. What does it matter what they think of us? It’s what we think of us that makes us who we are.

“I know how this looks,” he began, desperately trying to restrain himself. “You think I’m some obsessed guy stalking a girl who left me and doesn’t want to be found. And maybe I am. But the way I see it, she’s either a con artist who took me for a chump. In which case, I need to find her. She’s a vulnerable young woman who was kidnapped. In which case, I need to find her. Or she’s fleeing something, leaving no trail for a reason, which now seems a possibility. In. Which. Case,” his jaw was tight, anger barely controlled, “I need. To find her.”

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