Free Compromised by Lawrence Kelter Page A

he continued to pick bits of food out of the plastic tray, nibbling on them, trying to fill a void that could not be filled.
    He was pecking at the computer keyboard when a dust-covered evidence box was placed on his desk. “Lido?” the delivery officer asked.
    He nodded and reached for a pen.
    “This box was buried so deep I found it next to evidence recovered from the Titanic .”
    Lido grinned. “Glad I could spice up your day.”
    “Sign here . . . Thanks. It’s all yours. Call me if you’re looking for the Declaration of Independence. I think I spotted it nearby.” The delivery officer grinned and turned away.
    Lido pushed the keyboard aside and placed the dusty box dead center on his desk, noticing that the dust had recently been disturbed. Interesting, he thought. Who’s been looking at this? After reading the label, he removed the lid, careful not to get dust all over himself or his desk. The box was from the archives and contained records from the days before all case documents were digitized and stored on computer mainframes. He opened the top folder and began scanning documents that had long since yellowed with age. It didn’t take long for him to get drawn in by the particulars of the case, the lurid details, interviews, and notes chronicling a child’s abduction and abuse. The victim was Jack Burns.
    He was still reading when light fell outside the precinct house. As he worked his way down to the bottom of the box, colleagues sitting at nearby desks went home for the evening and the office clamor he was so accustomed to diminished and became an inconspicuous undercurrent.
    He’d found the case shocking, but it wasn’t until he reached the last folder that a notation stole his breath. It was a late addition to the documentation, information contributed long after the case was initially declared cold. A detective’s signature at the bottom of a request form stunned him and set the wheels in his head into motion. No. It can’t be. He scrutinized the signature a second time and then a third, until he was absolutely sure that the form had been signed by his deceased father-in-law, Frank Chalice.

Chapter Twenty-Two
    Lido tiptoed out of Max’s bedroom and shut the door. “Sorry I got home so late.”
    “I didn’t hear from you all day,” Ma complained. “Any leads? Any idea where my crazy daughter is?”
    He shook his head and let go a pent-up sigh. “I’m afraid not. The thing is . . . I know she’s okay. Despite the head wound and despite everything she’s done to make us nuts, I know that Stephanie can more than take care of herself. It’s not the worry that has me bent out of shape. It’s—”
    Ma interrupted him. “I know. I’m disgusted with her too. She can’t be thinking straight and that’s what troubles me the most. Being committed to the job is one thing, but this . . . it’s just too much,” she huffed. “I’d like to put her over my knee and spank the daylights out of her.”
    “Yeah? Well, get in line.”
    “Yeah, right . I’ve got dinner on the table for you. Take a load off, and we’ll bellyache about my darling daughter while you eat.”
    “Best offer I’ve had all day.” Gus plopped into a kitchen chair and twisted the top off a cold beer. “So, listen, this is going to sound completely weird, but . . .”
    “But what?” she asked as she set a skillet on the table.
    “I interviewed Serafina Ramirez’s father today.”
    “The family Stephanie was investigating just before she was shot?”
    “Correct—the girl who was raped and murdered on Super Bowl Sunday. I asked to be added to the task force investigating the case.”
    “Hoping it would help you find Stephanie,” she deduced.
    “Well, yeah, I guess that’s obvious. I mean I hope to contribute to the murder case as well, but my main motivation is finding your wacky daughter.”
    “You mean your wacky wife, don’t you?”
    “Forget about it. I’ve only been married to her a short period