The Hero Next Time: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 4)

Chapter Twenty-Five: Lauren, Saturday

"I better go," Lauren said, "I'm just crossing the Queensborough bridge now, so almost there. See you soon."

"Bye, Mom."

"Bye, baby."

Naomi hung up first. Lauren ended her call and looked out over the neighbourhood she so rarely visited even though it had been her home for some of the best years of her life. The road after the Queensborough Bridge curved right as it became Highway 91, and she remembered when the bridge instead kept going straight until it intersected with Ewen Avenue, before they built this connector, which ran through where Al's house used to be. She took the quick turn off for Howes Street, which then intersected with Ewen, and followed the directions she had on her phone. She passed Wood Street, which emptied into the cul-de-sac of Crane Place, where Birinder lived, and hoped Sunny and his family were all right and that Al and Rachel watching the place, hopefully from a vantage where they wouldn't be noticed and reported, would be sufficient to ensure their safety; there was already one police presence in Queensborough, they didn't need another.

She continued on Ewen until she reached the Port Royal area. She followed the flashing blue and red lights even though she had Jordan's address. She found Joe and Joanie sitting at the end of the block on which Jordan lived, on the flat bed of Joe's Dodge Ram. She parked her Versa behind them and pulled out her phone. She texted Regan the address and that police were on the scene now, but they were okay. If Regan wanted to come now, that was her choice.

She climbed out and locked her door, then said, "I heard the news from Rachel. What's going on?"

"We discovered the door was ajar when we came to visit," Joe explained. "He knew we were coming right?"

"Yeah, as far as I know."

"Well, we knocked, but there was no answer. We called out to announce ourselves, you know, just in case he left the door open by accident; maybe he was waiting on the front porch but went inside for a minute." He gestured to all the houses on the street, which had the same cookie-cutter faux craftsman elements, among them small front porches.

"When we saw from the front door that the living room was tossed, we called out again," Joanie went on. "I got a bad feeling about it, so we stayed outside and I called nine-one-one. A New West Police patrol car showed up, and the constables went inside to search. When they asked us what our business was at the place, we explained about Jordan's connection to a missing persons case, and they radioed for a detective."

"Tracey and Goncalves are in there now," Joe said.

Lauren tried craning her neck to see Jordan's house, but the angle was all wrong. It was probably behind police tape now anyway. She could see other patrol cars up ahead, though, and other constables knocking on doors all along the block, asking neighbours if they saw anything suspicious. "Somebody on the block must have seen something," she said.

Joe shrugged. He looked bored. "We're still waiting for the detectives to talk to us, but once they do that, and once I know the others are safe, I'm getting out of here."

"Oh, come on, aren't you interested in knowing what happened?" Lauren asked.

"Do you think they're actually going to tell us?"

"They won't, unfortunately," Joanie said. "That assumes they even know. They might not."

They waited. Lauren found herself without anything to say. After the awkward conversation she'd had with Joanie on Monday, and then the session with Joe on Friday, she worried she wouldn't be able to open her mouth without sticking a foot in it. The case seemed to be the only safe topic of conversation.