The Avenger by Jo Robertson Read Free Book Online Page B

folks?"
    "Just coffee and sour dough toast," Olivia said.
    "Make that two," Jack added.
    The waitress nodded and walked away to place their meager order on the metal roundel.
    Apparently Olivia wanted to make small talk before she broached the subject on her mind because after a few moments, she led with, "What made you go into government work?"
    "The condensed version is college, marines, government service."
    She glanced at his hands. "No wife? No children?"
    He shook his head, taking her meaning. "I wouldn't wear a ring anyway."
    She looked surprised. "Why not?"
    "Too revealing. I prefer to give as little information as possible about myself."
    Olivia stared at him over the rim of her water glass, reminding him of a time when keeping secrets was foreign to both of them, and they'd virtually poured out their young hearts to each other. "Tell me about the case," she said, setting down her glass.
    "First, why don't you tell me why you called?"
    A pretty flush crept up her neck into her cheeks. He waited easily while she struggled with her words. Patience had always come easy for him. Patience and a stubborn doggedness that made him a tough opponent.
    The waitress set their toast orders down and poured coffee. "Anything else?"
    Jack shook his head and kept his eyes trained on Olivia.
    She cleared her throat. "I think a student of mine is in trouble."
    He'd expected many things. Her tearing into him was high on the list, followed by anger, accusation, questions. God, lots of questions. She had the right to ask and demand answers. But the unexpected twist caught him off guard.
    "Your student?"
    "Her name is Keisha Johnson and no one's seen her since Friday." She leaned across the table, desperation in her voice. "I'm afraid something awful has happened to her."
    "Has anyone filed a missing persons report?"
    "I thought there was a waiting period."
    "Not in California."
    "Jack," she said, a hitch in her voice, "she's barely nineteen, a freshman. I don't think she'd take off like this without telling anyone."
    Olivia could see Jack's razor-sharp mind calculating the possibilities. She breathed out a sigh of relief. Jack knew what to do. He'd help.
    "You talked to her friends?" he asked. "Her family?"
    "She's from New York. She wasn't planning to go home until winter break." She stirred the coffee and ignored the toast. "I didn't want to be hasty and worry her parents." She lifted one shoulder. "You know, in case it turns out to be nothing."
    "But you don't think it's nothing."
    She shook her head. "Keisha's very responsible. Her roommate said she went out Friday night, wouldn't say where, just that she'd be back late."
    Jack narrowed his eyes. "Sometimes girls go to a party and don't come back for a few days."
    Olivia held his eyes stubbornly. "This girl's not flaky, she's fast-tracked in her department, and she's on a full-ride scholarship. She's the golden girl. She wouldn't go on some wild, unplanned trip without telling someone. I know something's happened to her."
    Jack nodded as if he believed her and took a small spiral notepad and pen from his inside jacket pocket. "Description?"
    The waitress swept by their table, poured more coffee, and slapped the check on the table.
    "Mixed race, African-American and Islander, I think," Olivia said. "She's about five-foot two, long dark hair, naturally curly, brown eyes."
    "I'll check it out, see what I can find," he said after she'd given him the rest of the particulars. He put the pen and notebook back in his jacket. "Now what are you willing to do in exchange for my help?"
    She'd expected nothing less than bartering, but Jack's words, stated so baldly, made her flinch. She leveled a hard look at him, feeling her temper rise. The chasm of the lost years and their disconnected lives widened another mile.
    "You really are a bastard, aren't you," she said evenly.
    His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Didn't you expect a quid pro quo?"
    Two could play this game, she thought, and put on her