IT HAD BEEN SIX YEARS since the beginning of her new life. In all that time, she hadn’t experienced a deep and lasting love. And never at first sight.
Until now.
It felt soft, though a little dirty. And the smell was strong, almost gag-worthy. But even though it had been more than half a decade since her last taste of the fruits, Detective Reece Cannon understood the complications of what was happening. She knew deep in her bones that nothing would ever be the same again.
His eyes didn’t plead or beg, but radiated oblivious joy. Sadly, his boney figure indicated the scarcity of food. It seemed he’d been waiting weeks for Reece to rescue him.
And here of all places—to find love? This spot, this building, this place of dread. Reece remembered the frightening childhood experience occurring not far from where she stood.
𝘈 𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦.
𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨.
Reece pushed through the mental darkness, reaching for his yellow fur matted with dirt. His teeth were sharp, but his tongue hung limp to the side and every pant seemed to emanate a question: 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥?
“Come here, boy,” Reece breathed, barely audible. “You’re not staying here one day longer.”
She transferred her service weapon to her left hand, and scratched behind the dusty ears which hung limp, unalarmed. But Reece’s own ears stood alert. Not only did she need to rescue this bucket-of-love with its own mysterious past, she was in hot pursuit of a murderer.
And the killer had entered this abandoned building.
Why does fate have a way of twisting life around until you’re forced to examine the aspects of your past you wished you could forget? And then throwing you a bone at the same time?
If it hadn’t been for a man named Michael Alderidge, her sister might’ve ended up another missing person—or dead.
Reece swallowed her memories.
𝘍𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴
The killer was on the move again—slowly, testing the atmosphere.
She stood. The sound of movement came from the opposite side of the building, close to the front entrance. She had no time to save the dog at this moment, barely even having time to think.
And the images from her childhood were mucking with her focus.
Yes, she’d be taking the dog with her. No question. And not just because of the boney ribs or innocent eyes. Or her memories messing with her.
They were connected somehow. In some cosmic way, some grand scheme, he’d been waiting for her. And her for him. No words could really describe that instantaneous pull from heart to heart.
Reece was currently in a kitchen. This building had been a large restaurant half a century ago when this part of Tucson hadn’t been run down, but had been thriving. Probably remodeled in the late 80s when the downtown area had been in its heyday, these surrounding areas had imbued hope and even a sense of being romanticized. But now the faded dream had crumbled.
The owners had probably spent too much, and by the early 90s, Reece remembered, it became clear that people went downtown, not venturing this far south.
And then the place closed its doors. A few years later, Reece and Dani had been nonchalantly walking past the boarded front windows.
Forever changed. Forever to hold hands a little tighter. Forever indebted to their mother’s friend, Michael, for coming to check on them, finding them in the midst of a foiled kidnapping. And forever to avoid passing by this place again.
But now she was inside. The old kitchen smelled of must and rat droppings. It had three entrances. One from the east—which was impassible—and one from the west which she had entered, then finding the dog.
The killer must’ve entered through the front. Reece had thought it was chained shut, but by the sound of it, he had gotten through.
“I’ll be back soon.” Reece grimaced as she shut the wooden kitchen door, its wood no longer heavy due to decades of dry air and termites.
She didn’t want the dog running after her, down the allies or into the busy street, or worse, between her and the killer’s weapon.
Her gut tightened while spinning around, painfully ignoring the yelping and scratching at the decayed wood. She sprinted towards the sound of the footsteps.
The man Reece chased had hid inside this building, probably assuming Reece wouldn’t have known he’d gone there. Maybe he’d thought she wouldn’t be able to keep up with his pace.
In truth, Reece hadn’t even seen him. She’d followed his trail by the sound of dogs barking from backyards and the bangs and crunchy sounds of some heavy trash knocked over after he jumped a wall down an alley. And with a little bit of luck.
As of this moment, inside this dark abandoned eatery, he must’ve heard Reece sprinting towards him. What was once a soft pitter-patter of careful steps echoing through the empty place had become heavy and quick.
This was overtime for Reece. She was supposed to be off duty by now. She had a dinner to get to. Disguised as congratulations for her recent successful investigation, it was really a promo party of political reasons.
Ah, but crime. Always another one.
Reece had been driving by the victim’s house when she heard the fateful gunshot.
She had come for the tamales. A few blocks away an old lady made the best ones in town, and Reece bought some from her every year around Christmas. But Reece had lingered a moment, driving slowly through the neighborhood reminiscing on her childhood.
Now she was caught—hook, line and sinker at the beginning of another case—with less than one week left as a detective.
Her feet pounded the old tile flooring. Her gun was up and ready, and she was determined to catch the perpetrator.
She rounded the corner from a smaller dining space into the main area.
Two gunshots were fired in her direction.
