Willowick County, Massachusetts

Thirty-five-year-old Scott West ducked behind a tree in Sunway Park when a woman’s scream interrupted his morning jog.

“Leave me alone,” she shouted. “I don’t know where he is.”

“You think we’re playing with you, bitch?”

Scott eased through the pathway between the low-hanging trees, catching sight of the strangers.

A black woman around five-five with the skin tone of toffee, stood in front of a tall white man in a black hoodie and jeans, the hood hiding his eyes.

“What do you expect me to do?” The thick bangs of the woman’s coal-black boy cut got in her eyes. “If I had the power I’d make all of this go away. Please, tell your boss to leave me alone.”

“Boss is sorry to drag you into this.” The man rubbed his large, red knuckles. “But this could’ve been avoided if you-know-who had kept his hands out the cookie jar.”

“This isn’t my fight.” She threw her hand in the man’s face, her gold hoop earrings beaming in the sun. “I won’t take anymore shit from you guys.”

“Oh, really?”

“Leave me alone.” She turned to leave when the man grabbed her arm.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” He shook her. “We have the power here.”

“Shit.” Scott yanked the earphones of his IPod out his ears, every nerve in his body jumping.

“You hear me?” The man yanked the woman’s arm. “Now, you get us what we want or you’re dead.”

She tussled, throwing her tiny fists. “Let go of me.”

The man shoved her to the ground. “Do you hear me?”

“Stop!” She kicked and punched as the man climbed on top of her.

Scott raced to the scene, shoving the man off the woman.

She wiggled, grass and dirt covering the back of her jeans.

“Son of a bitch.” The man punched Scott, delivering a monstrous blow that shook his teeth.

“Ah.” Scott fell in the dirt and before he could raise a fist, the man jerked him up by his T-shirt and kneed Scott in the middle of his stomach.

“Stop it,” the woman screamed as she stood. “Get off him.”

The man stood over Scott, punching him with a fist as solid as cement. “Next time mind your fuckin’ business.”

“Leave him alone!” The woman grabbed the man’s arm when he swung back to hit Scott again.

Scott hauled his size twelve foot in the air, smacking the man in the nose.

The man fell back, yelping.

“Just go.” The woman grabbed Scott’s hand and even through the chaotic moment, he noticed the softness of her palm. “Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Scott got a few more punches in as the man flailed in the dying grass. “What’s wrong?” He huffed and puffed from adrenaline. “Can’t pick on someone your own size?”

The man rolled around, holding his nose.

“Call the police,” Scott told the woman.

She swayed from side to side, hands shaking.

“Are you all right?” He reached for her but she backed away. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Her big, round hazel eyes illuminated against her skin tone.

“Everything’s all right.” He hunched over, clutching her arms. “We gotta get the police out here though.” He got his cell from the pocket of his sweats.

“No.” She snatched the phone, trembling. “You can’t.”

“The hell I can’t.” While Scott tried to grab his phone from her, the man took off running.

“Hey!” Scott attempted to follow, but the man disappeared through the trees. “Shit.” He turned to the shaken woman. “Why would you not want to call the police?”

“I’m sorry.” She handed him his phone. “Thanks for helping but forget this ever happened, okay?” She turned around, rushing through the pathway.

“Wait, a minute.” Scott followed as she hurried her gait into a jog. “Lady? Jesus, wait!”

When they reached the parking lot, the woman jumped into a black, Chevy Impala.

“What the hell’s going on?” Scott beat on her window as she backed out the parking spot. “What’s your name?”

She sped toward the exit of the lot.

“No, you don’t.” Scott took a picture of her license plate before she vanished.

* * *

“Let me get this straight.” Homicide Detective Bobby West sat behind his office desk at the Willowick County Police Station. “You want me to run the license plate of a car belonging to a young woman you don’t even know?” He glared at Scott with those slender, apple green eyes that Scott and Bobby had inherited from their mother. “Why would I do this, again?”

“Because I’m your brother.” Scott ran his fingers through his flaxen hair, which he wore short at the back yet wild and crazy at the top and sides.

“My little brother or not, why should I risk my badge to do something like this?” Bobby leaned forward, that wide forehead being another trait they’d gotten from mom. “Have you gone crazy?”

“I rescued that woman in Sunway Park just now.”

The hairline of Bobby’s short, sepia hair rose from his forehead. “Rescued?”

Scott nodded, swallowing. “Some man attacked her, and I fought him off.”

Bobby’s serious expression softened into a snicker.

“I know you don’t think I’d do anything like that, but I did.” Scott squinted. “Yes, I saved her. Your little librarian brother.”

“First, drop the attitude.” Bobby sat back with that condescending smirk he’d had since childhood. “I wasn’t grinning out of ridicule. I’m impressed.” He got his notebook and pencil. “What did the woman look like?”

Scott wouldn’t forget this beauty in a million years. “She’s about five-five.”

Bobby jotted.

“She’s black with short hair and long bangs. I’d say she was late twenties or early thirties.”

Bobby glanced at him while writing. “Was she pretty?”

“Pretty?” Scott chuckled, breathless. “She was one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.” He described her clothes and the car. “She has very soft skin and gorgeous hazel eyes. Never seen that exact shade of brown before.”

Bobby looked as if he found the comment strange. “What about the man?”

“He was white.” Scott shrugged. “Had on black jeans and a hoodie. A little taller than me so I’d say he’s around six-two or something. I didn’t notice anything specific. I couldn’t see his face that good because we were fighting.”

“So you kicked his ass, huh?” Bobby smiled, reading over what he’d written. “And you don’t know where the man went or—”

“No, he got away too fast.” Scott propped his foot on his thigh. “Then she ran off, and I took a picture of her license plate.”

“Chevy Impala, you said?”

Scott nodded. “She wouldn’t let me call the police.”

Bobby grabbed his coffee cup. “Why would she run off and not call the police?”

“You gonna run the plates now?”

Bobby sipped from the cup and swallowed. “No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I have no reason to.”

“The reason is this woman was attacked and needs help, Bobby.”

“And, she doesn’t want the police involved or else she’d have called us. Why would she run from you and not even give you her name?”

“Get on the damn computer and run the license plate.” Scott stood. “That’s all you have to do. Then we can find out who she is and where she lives.”

“I can’t use city resources to track down some woman just because you have a crush on her.”

Scott scoffed. “I don’t have a crush.”

“Your eyes glazed over when you were talking about her. What am I to think?”

Scott marched from the desk. “Isn’t your job to help people?”

“You sure she’s a victim? She could be a scam artist.”

Scott stood by the door. “Scam artist?”

“Yeah, this could be a scam she and that man cooked up to lure you in.”

“That makes no sense.” Scott scratched his forehead. “If she were trying to scam me wouldn’t she ask my name and stuff?” He shook his head. “Besides, Willowick County isn’t that big. If these two were running scams, then it would be all over town.”

“It is interesting that this woman shows up in the park out of nowhere. You jog there four times a week, right? Have you ever seen her before?”

“Never.”

“No one else saw anything?”

“Usually I’m the only one in the park that early. The patrol guy doesn’t come until seven.”

Bobby tapped his pencil on the desk.

“She knew that guy.” Scott nibbled on his thumb. “She told him to leave her alone, and he mentioned some other guy. He called him, ‘Boss.’”

“I commend you for being so passionate about this but this isn’t your business.”

“Didn’t you take a damn oath to protect the citizens of this city? Dad would roll over in his grave right now if his favorite son wasn’t living up to his legacy.”

“I’m sick and tired of going through this dance with you, Scott. Dad’s been dead a long time and you’re still playing the ‘favorites’ game?”

“You were his favorite.” Scott approached the desk, head bobbing. “His namesake, the one who would follow in his footsteps of one day becoming a great detective just like him. I didn’t invent this.”

“But, you love to say this crap to make me feel bad then wonder why we’re not close.” Bobby exhaled, looking at the notepad. “I’ll run the plate.”

Scott stepped back. “Out of guilt?”

“Make one more slick comment…” Bobby pointed at him. “And, I’m not doing shit. I’m running it because I want to know more about this woman. If she’s in the trouble, then maybe I can contact her and get her to talk.”

“Thanks.” Thanking Bobby felt as painful as swallowing glass but at least he’d run the plate. “Will you call me when you find out who she is?”

He nodded as Scott headed back to the door.

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“I turn forty-three in a few months.”

“And?”

“Can your gift be that we get over this venom you got toward me? You’re my brother, and I love you. Let’s move on from whatever you feel I did in the past.”

“Fine.” Scott checked the time on his Swatch. “I gotta get to the library. I’m already late. Call me when you find out something.”