Resolution: Evan Warner Book 1 by Shawn Underhill, Nick Adams

sighed.
    “Do me a favor,” I said. “Try to remember as much as you can. Jot it down as it comes to you. Any little thing might be helpful.”
    “I guess finding a dog isn’t such a big deal compared to figuring out what happened to that little girl.”
    I said, “Kids and animals I have sympathy for. They’re not the ones friggin’ up the world.”
    “I’m with you on that.”
    I nodded. It feels good to agree with people.
    “Do you feel guilty or something?” she asked.
    “Why would I?”
    “I mean, because of Lucy going missing. You know, at your place.”
    “I didn’t take her. So, no, I don’t feel any guilt.”
    “I wasn’t trying to suggest anything. Just trying to understand your angle.”
    “I just hate the whole thing because it’s wrong,” I said. “I hate the sort of people who do that shit. They’re worm food at best. End of story.”
    We were quiet a moment. Kendra was obviously doing some thinking.
    “Do you know where Mary Kurtz lives?” she asked.
    “White place. Circle Drive, off of Bow Street. Right near the corner of the old cemetery.”
    “Yeah. From what I hear, both of those girls are a mess. Up and down. Usually broke. But somehow Mary drives a BMW. I’ve seen her around.”
    “Think she’s selling?”
    “What? Drugs or her nasty self?”
    I shrugged.
    “I don’t know for sure,” she said. “Some of it might just be gossip. I’ve never met either of them personally. But I can ask a few people. They’re well known. I’ve heard their names plenty of times.”
    “Do that,” I said. “But only ask people you really trust.”
    Kendra looked at her coffee cup for a long moment. Then at me.
    “So we’re really going through with this?”
    “Why wouldn’t we?”
    She shook her head. “It doesn’t seem real.”
    “We have to do something.”
    “Yeah …”
    “If decent people go passive, the assholes of the world win.”
    “I guess,” she said. Now she was playing with her hair nervously.
    “You want them to win?”
    “No.”
    “Then stop worrying. We’re talking about a couple of idiots here.”
    She nodded and quietly said, “Okay.”
    “Just go to work as usual and I’ll keep you posted. And tomorrow I think you should trade your car. Just to be safe.”
    She said, “If I can get Simon back, to hell with my car.”
    That was exactly the attitude I was looking for.
     
     

 
     
    13
     
     
    We exchanged numbers and got up from the table. Kendra asked once more if I was sure I wanted to go through with the plan. I was sure. She hugged me and thanked me. Then she hugged Frank with extra gusto. Which he greatly appreciated.
    “The Bensons’ house is number one twenty-one,” she told me. “It’s an ugly blue place. The paint is all chipped.”
    “Got it,” I said.
    “Thanks again for your help. Really.”
    “Thanks for the coffee.”
    “Small price.”
    “Still appreciated. Go get ready for work.”
    “Yeah, it’s getting to be that time,” she said and slid into her car. Started it. Looked over at me. Backed out and went home to change for work.
    Once she was gone I got Frank loaded in the van. We headed for Bow Street.
    In five minutes we were there. I turned off Central Street onto Bow and cruised along slowly under the glow of the street lamps. A group of kids were playing basketball by one of the slum apartment buildings. Most of the houses had lights on inside. People were sitting out on porches, smoking. Hanging out.
    Some of the house numbers were difficult to see. Or nonexistent. But number 121 was on a battered post at the end of the short driveway. The place was dark. I could just see the weathered blue paint. My headlights caught the orange lettering of the dog signs on the rotting picket fence.
    I would have slowed down for a closer look, but some idiot was tailgating the hell out of me. One of my lifelong dreams has always been to have a militarized vehicle. Sort of like James Bond. Armor plating. Machine guns on the