Wulf stared at the house across the street with its light blue shutters, pink rose beds, and well-kept grass. Vin had been given a bad rep like Megan. Like her mom, Elena. All to keep Peter’s beautiful wife from coming home. But this was sick. Why make Mary Jane’s real father out to be such a monster?

A disgusting feeling churned in the pit of his stomach. Scenario after scenario wrapped its claws into his mindset. He concentrated on Peter Grienke’s current whereabouts at a super-max facility. Grienke had no means to hurt Mary Jane ever again.

This had to be her family. Regardless of the truth before his eyes and Quincy’s confirmation, he’d tread cautiously.

He got out of the car, noticing a woman with very light skin and a silky, long silvery braid down her back who was clipping the flowers. He told himself that she reminded him of his mother, Brenda, needing the personal reference to humanize a woman he’d grown to loathe.

She appeared to be of Latin descent. From his side angle, Wulf knew she was none other than Elena Portman even though, strangely, she didn’t have any recent DMV photos on file. Elena squatted down in a long white skirt, a look of serenity on her face as she pruned a rose bush near the base of the porch.

“Excuse me,” Wulf called out.

At first, her shoulders tensed. Elena then stood up without warning. He had yet to glimpse of her face before she scurried around the side of the house.

What the fuck is going on?

“Ma’am, I apologize if I’ve frightened you,” Wulf stated. It was too late to turn back now. He had to know about Mary Jane. She owed him an explanation. He went to the short white fence and pulled at the latch; it sprung free. He opened it, calling to Elena.

“What the fuck are you doing on my property?” The booming voice came from a middle-aged man about five-foot-six with lean muscles for his age. This must be none other than Vincent Portman. He had dark skin from hours of an active, outdoor life. He wore a wife beater and jeans and wiped a cloth with his oily hands.

“I’m looking for–”

“You’re Officer Dylan Wulf.” The anger dissipated from Vincent’s voice.

Elena peeked around the side of the house. Her profile was identical to Megan and Mallory’s, full lips and nose. Only her eyes were melancholic instead of hypnotic.

“Get back, Elena!” Vincent ordered, and she immediately disappeared again.

Wulf opened his mouth to address the manner in which Vincent spoke to his wife. “Lieutenant Portman–”

“Where is she?” Though the man was tiny, his voice carried.

Wulf’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion as Vincent asked the question that should be coming out of his own mouth.

“Where is my child?” His record indicated he was pushing seventy but his mannerisms were that of a man in his prime, ready to pounce.

Wulf said, “She left…for home with Megan and Keegan.”

“No, she did not!” Vincent stepped closer to him. His chest puffed out, solid muscle. “I’ve read about you in the paper. Super cop brings down Gunner gang! Blah! The Gunners haven’t done nothing but kill themselves and innocent women and children so anybody could’ve done your job. And you can’t even fucking tell me where my daughter is. How is it that you can go about defiling Mallory in Mexico for a year and now have no idea of her whereabouts?”

He sucked in a deep breath of oxygen, gulping a deep breath of air before he could respond. “I was told that Mary Jane left with a man and wom–”

“Mary Jane, that’s bullshit! My child’s name is Mallory Portman fuckin’ Grienke and that’s only because the bastard threatened her to marry him! Stop with all that Mary Jane crap.”

“Vin,” Elena called, her head appearing around the side of the house again.

Vincent turned around, his anger evaporating with a sigh. The only thing left was pure adoration for his wife. “Mal will be here later on. Go in the house, Elena, please.”

She nodded and looked at Wulf in the eye for the first time. The faintest of a smile appeared within the depths of her dark eyes, and then she was gone.

Vincent turned around. “Find my daughter, or,” his finger wagged in Wulf’s face until a Chevy Spark pulled into the driveway.

Megan hopped out of the tiny car with a bag of groceries. “Dad, what are you doing?”

“This idiot let Mallory run off with some folks. He thought she came back with you and that faggot.”

“Dad,” she reprimanded.

“I can say what I want!”

“I know.” Her voice smoothed over his snappiness. “Let’s go inside and talk about it.”

“He is not welcome in my house. Not without my daughter!”

“Okay, Dad.” Megan put the groceries by the door. “Can you take these in the house? Mom’s cooking lasagna, remember? Your favorite. I ran out to get the—”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fool, Megan! I am from the…”

Megan repeated his army ranking under her breath, as he spoke. “Daddy, please.”

Vincent turned back to Wulf. “Find her or I’ll find you. I’m certain you are aware of my credentials.”

He snatched up the bags and went around back.

Megan gave Wulf a half smile. “Our dad will tell you where he’s from about twenty thousand times. I guess it sounds like a gang where you’re from.” Her chuckle fell flat. “Now that you met the family, I think the reunions will run more smoothly. So, what is it Dad says about you not having Mal–Mary Jane?”

He was surprised. Megan was night and day compared to Mary Jane’s stories. Even respectful enough to abide by her sister’s wishes not to be called Mallory.

He cleared his throat of that innate desire to dislike her and said, “I was told she left with a man and a woman.”

“Well, unfortunately it wasn't with me or Keegan. I’m sorry for Dad’s tone. He sounds homophobic, but you would be surprised that even with the don’t ask don’t tell policy in the army, we don’t discriminate. He just doesn’t like Keegan. Nobody is good enough for his daughters. Even before Mal married.”

“Oh, okay.” Wulf started to back away, his brain working overtime with scenarios about what happened to his woman. He needed to wrap his mind around everything that had just occurred without staring at this beautiful creature. Even with short hair and style fit for teaching kindergarten, Megan reminded him of Mary Jane. Where is she?

“Do you have a moment to get a drink? There’s an Irish Pub around here.” She laughed when he looked her over. “Yeah, I know it doesn’t look like I’d drink a beer. There are some good drafts at the pub. Besides, there are a few things you need to know before you leave.”

“I…” His mind was already calculating how majorly he’d failed Mary Jane. Seventy-two hours. The first few days were most critical and he hadn’t even started searching.

“Please,” she implored. “With that look on your face as you spoke to Dad, I could just about bet you had no intentions of returning—with or without my sister. I know whatever is going on with you and Mal, you’ll find her. So please, just one drink. I won’t take too much of your time.”

They ended up at a tiny restaurant across the street from the Lakewood mall with dark wood walls, low lighting, and a set of framed family photos. The beer was better than he expected.

“I stopped praying,” Megan began after taking a few sips of her own root beer. “After Mallory married Peter, I just couldn’t believe that she forgot her upbringing. She turned away from everything Mom taught us. So I stopped. But, Mom, she prayed harder. Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about, Mr. Wulf. My dad and Mal had an awful relationship.”

And when I find her, she’s not coming back here. He rubbed a hand over his jaw so as not to give away his feelings.

“Dad isn’t a monster. He’s very stern with outsiders. But he’s no villain.” Megan paused to take a sip of her drink. “Have you heard the saying that people who act the same clash?”

“No,” he mumbled, ready to close himself off from the Portmans.

“All right. Well, they’re just about the same darn person, too stubborn. They clashed when she was a kid. The first big fight was after he came home for good. You see, we were used to vacations and trips with dad, and then he’d leave for overseas. With Mom, our house was a democracy. When we were sixteen, Dad came home for good. Mom went on vacation.”

To Wulf, it sounded like Elena may have run from her husband, especially if the familial dynamics always called for him staying away. She probably loved him best a thousand miles apart, but a tinge of sadness was in Megan’s voice.

“They called it a vacation… Then here’s our stern father measuring how tightly our bedsheets were tucked in. He made life a living hell when Mom came home wearing braces. See, it wasn’t a real vacation. It was to recover. She’d actually been assaulted one afternoon while taking tithes for the church to the bank.”

“Wow,” he sighed.

“Mal and I weren’t aware that she’d spent her vacation time in the hospital and the braces she came home with were wires. Just that Dad came home unexpectedly, and he’s the kind that wants to shelter his family—even though we were old enough to know. It probably tore Dad to shreds. You go away to keep the country safe and leave the home front unguarded.” Megan pushed her drink away. “Dad started teaching us self-defense like a man possessed with our safety. Hardcore, three-hour regimen defense lessons that left just enough time for homework and sleep.”

“That must be why MJ knows how to fight,” Wulf thought aloud. He leaned back in his chair, not so angry with Vincent anymore. He now understood Elena’s paranoia. Vincent didn’t reprimand his wife. He’d just catered to her horrors.

“Mal’s so smart.” Megan smiled, far away in her thoughts. She crunched on a few pretzels. “Mal got good grades. She had a check mark for every requirement our dad had and even more. And to top it all off, she was queen of the chess team. Like Dad, life was a competition. She was missing the club meetings due to Dad’s rigorous self-defense schedule. One day, she just snapped. She just stopped throwing combos and cussed him out.”

As Megan talked, Wulf found himself madly in love with this Mallory Portman. There were parallels in the temperament with the woman he couldn’t help but love. She was a witty, willful woman. He needed to find her.

“Geesh, I don’t even think Mal knows the entire truth about our dad’s obsession with our self-defense lessons. But I hope you can see we are a family… We were once a happy family.”

Megan had painted a picture of a family that cared for each other but were caught up in circumstances. He needed to be sure of Vincent’s love for his daughter because he wouldn’t rest until he found Mary Jane. “All right, thank you for chatting with me.” Wulf grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, prepared for the long journey ahead of him, but Megan stopped him.

“Look, I know you’ll find my sister, but honestly,” she shoved a hand through her hair, “I need you to bring her back here when you do.”

“I will find her,” he assured.

“I understand that time is of the essence and Mal is tangled into a bizarre story, but you’ve gotta understand that we’re a family. One more story, if you don’t mind.”

“You’re right, Ms. Portman, I don’t have time.” There was a softness in his gaze, but he attempted to be polite.

“Mal was studying for a PhD at USC. Only twenty-two years old and half way there.” Megan smiled though her face was marred with sadness.

Wulf placed money on the table and leaned back.

“My sister just started an awesome paid internship at Peter Grienke Laboratories. She stayed with Keegan, her high school boyfriend, through it all. Anyhow, Mal and Keegan were getting married. They went to Mexico. Come to think of it, they stayed right near where you two lived. Mal often felt weird at Grienke Pharmaceuticals. However, Peter was one of the only employers that paid for internships, and just his name on a resume was career gold. Just so you have a visual, the internship actually paid for flowers and other wedding vendors.”

Wulf nodded.

“Then Dad found out about the wedding. She wanted to tell him at the last minute. More of a silent ‘you’ll get the invite in the mail’ type of request. Dad flipped and forbade her to marry the boy. Mal was at work, and we were speaking about a dinner to calm the waters at her lunch break. Mal became eerily silent. She said she found something on Peter’s computer. She never came home that night. Dad was at our apartment, angry but quietly waiting for Mal to come home. I’d decorated and cooked, and Keegan just sat there embarrassed as we all waited for her in silence. The next thing I knew, she was married to Peter. She never came home. He wouldn’t let me see her.” Her voice broke.

“Peter wouldn’t let you come around?” Wulf started to connect the dots. It was easier for Peter Grienke to make Elena and Megan out as the bad person and to totally send Mary Jane into repulsion over Vincent. So keeping Mary Jane away from her family worked.

“Yeah. The one time I visited my sis, it was by accident. The gate of their mansion had malfunctioned and she answered the front door.” Tears welled into Megan’s eyes. Her voice broke with emotion. “My sister hugged me tightly after almost a year of not one single word. She told me she would put me in rehab and do whatever I needed if I’d stop doing drugs. Drugs!” Megan gasped. “So you have to understand. Our family has fought for Mal to return home. You’re our only hope.”