Vanished - A Mystery (Dixon & Baudin Book 1) Read Free Page B

do I get for what’s bein’ said on the street?”
    “I’ll help you out whenever you call me. Nothing too serious. You get busted dealing dope, you’re on your own. But solicitation, possessing pot, DUIs, violent johns, things like that, you call me.”
    She nodded, holding the cigarette up and staring at the tip. “Had this trick once that burned me with these. Burned me all up and down my back. He was just laughin’ like it weren’t nothin’.”
    “Now that’s exactly the type of thing you call me for. I’ll make sure he never does something like that again. What’s your name?”
    “Candi.”
    “Your real name.”
    “That is my real name. Candi-Jean Carlson.”
    “Candi-Jean. I like that.” He held out his hand, leaving the cigarette between his lips. “Ethan Baudin. Pleasure.”
    She shook, a smile on her face. “No, you definitely ain’t like the cops out here.”
    “No, I definitely am not.”
     
     

4
     
     
     
    The church had nearly emptied. Kyle Dixon chatted with a few other volunteers. After serving the food, he’d decided to stay and help them clean up. The homeless in Cheyenne weren’t numerous, but they were needy. The city had no shelters since the Comea House closed, or food kitchens, so the local churches were the only way they got fed.
    Dixon took off his apron and walked back to the altar. He knelt, made the sign of the cross, and prayed for his family and friends and the homeless who froze in the winter and starved in the summer. When he was through, he rose and left the church without looking back.
    About halfway to his neighborhood he had to flip on his headlights. His home sat in the middle of a partially finished development. The developer had run out of money and was in bankruptcy proceedings.
    He parked in the garage and got out. A child’s bike, still in the box, leaned against the wall. He’d bought it last Christmas. His wife, Hillary, had told him they shouldn’t buy anything for the baby at only four months, but he couldn’t help it. The bike spoke to him when he saw it.
    Inside, he was met by the smell of cooking meat. He kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket over the back of one of the chairs at the dining table. Hillary had a pot and two pans going on the stove. He quietly came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. Her neck smelled like lotion, something fruity, and he kissed it and nibbled on her ear.
    “Oh, mister, please stop. My husband will be home soon.”
    “Well, he’s got a fight on his hands then, ’cause I ain’t lettin’ go.”
    She turned, wrapping her arms around his neck. “How was work?”
    “Good, I guess,” he said, kissing her then pulling away and going to the fridge. “Got a new partner.”
    She turned back to the food. “Yeah? Who?”
    “Ethan something. He used to be LAPD, and now he’s out here.”
    “Oh, that sounds interesting. You two hit it off?”
    He popped the top on an apple juice and took a long pull. “More or less. Where is he?”
    “He’s sleeping. Don’t wake him up.”
    “I just wanna see him.”
    Dixon rounded a corner and crossed the hallway. He came to a bedroom and poked his head in. His son, Randy, was wrapped up tight and lying on his back in a crib. Dixon had built the crib from scratch. It had taken him three months to do it because he didn’t want any imperfections. He enjoyed the fact that his boy slept in something made with his own two hands.
    He crossed the room and peered down at his boy, with his cherubic face—chubby cheeks and little nose. Dixon kissed his own finger and then placed it on the boy’s forehead before leaving the room.
    Hillary was setting the table when he got back to the kitchen. He leaned against the wall and watched her. She hadn’t changed much since college. Same figure, similar clothes, but her hairstyle had completely changed. He watched her until she noticed and smiled.
    “Dinner’s ready.”
    He kissed her again and sat down at the table. As