Free Vanished (Private Justice Book #1): A Novel by Irene Hannon Page A

years ago. Except it wasn’t a mugging.”
    “What do you mean?”
    She shrugged. “I was doing an investigative piece on gang-related drug problems. Asking questions the leaders didn’t like. One night, I was supposed to meet a contact who’d promised me information. Instead, I ended up cornered in a dark alley by knife-wielding gang members who suggested that wandering in places I didn’t belong could be dangerous. They took my purse to make it look like a robbery, but it turned up a few days later in a dumpster with all my cards intact. And they left me with this souvenir.” She flipped her hand toward her arm as if the wound didn’t matter.
    But it did to him.
    Cold anger, his standard reaction to senseless violence, churned in his gut.
    Moira had been attacked with a knife.
    She could have been killed.
    “Hey.” She started to reach out to him, her eyes wide. Then drew her hand back. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I got the story, and several gang leaders got indicted.”
    He wasn’t certain what she’d seen in his face, but he did his best to slip a neutral mask back on. “I didn’t realize journalism was that dangerous.”
    “That was an aberration. Most of the stories I do aren’t risky.”
    “But you don’t shy away from the ones that are.”
    She didn’t blink. “No. And I’m not going to shy away from this, either. I need to get to the bottom of it. For my own peace of mind, if nothing else.”
    And she’d do it with or without Phoenix’s help. He’d make book on that. Any woman who had the guts and tenacity to stand up to gang members wasn’t going to back down from a pediatric surgeon.
    Cal tapped his finger on the table. “I’ll tell you what. Let me talk to my partners. Get their take on this. Can I call you tomorrow?”
    “Yes. And thank you for meeting me before going home.” She stood. “Please give my apologies to your wife.”
    He stuck her cup in his and picked up her plate as he rose. “No apologies needed. My wife died five years ago.” For once his throat didn’t close down as he said the words. Odd.
    Moira’s lips formed a small O and her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry.”
    “Yeah. Me too.” This time, his voice rasped.
    He crossed to the trash can, deposited their cups, set the empty plate on the barista’s counter, and took a deep breath, buying himself a few seconds to regain control.
    By the time he rejoined her and gestured toward the front door, he had his emotions in check. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
    “That’s not necessary.”
    He managed to summon up the hint of a smile. “My mom would disagree—and I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”
    With no further argument, she preceded him to the door. As they stepped outside, she indicated a silver Camry. “That’s it.”
    “Convenient. I’m parked next to you.”
    She surveyed the Mercedes to the right of her car. “Nice.”
    “Try the other side.”
    Her brow wrinkled as she sized up the van on the left. “That’s a carpet cleaning business.”
    “Or a surveying firm, or an electrical company, or a half dozen other businesses. Depends on which magnetic sign I put up.” He took her arm as they descended the steps. “You don’t think I always dress like this, do you?”
    She gave his uniform-like dark green slacks and beige shirt a quick sweep. “Cover for surveillance?”
    “Bingo.” He opened her door, and she slid inside. “I’ll be back in touch before noon tomorrow. Your cell okay?”
    “Yes. Thank you again.”
    “Nothing to thank me for yet. Drive safe.”
    He closed the door and circled around to the driver’s side of the van. While he fished out his keys and climbed behind the wheel, she backed out and accelerated toward the exit.
    As he watched her disappear, a sudden impulse swept over him to take off after her, wave her over, and invite her to dinner. He was tired of eating alone, and she sounded fed up with macaroni and cheese.
    But that was crazy. He’d never been