21st Birthday by James Patterson (e book reader android .TXT) 📕

we would scrutinize every unsolved murder of every female going back fifteen years.

The state of California had produced a lot of data.

We hit the keys.

A simple search for “Evan Burke” turned up sixty men with that name in California alone. We halved the list to men in their sixties, but that wasn’t enough.

I reached out to Captain Geoffrey Brevoort, Marin County PD. Although Brevoort quickly confirmed Corinne and Jodie Burke’s disappearance, Lucas’s memory of his father’s arrest didn’t match the records. Brevoort had nothing on Evan Burke; no mug shots, no prints or DNA. He’d been questioned, yes. But his alibis had held up and the man not only cooperated, he was an emotional wreck.

While I was on the phone with Brevoort, Conklin found a dozen Evan Burkes in the DMV so now we had addresses, birth dates, and best of all, photos of several dozen Evan Burkes in California. None of them resembled Lucas.

And then, Alvarez found a California boating license for an E. W. Burke in Sausalito, six nautical miles off the coast of San Francisco. There was no photo attached to the file, no prints, but it was a place to start.

I called Brevoort again and plugged into the detectives working on the Wendy Franks case, told them what we knew. I reached the harbor master in Sausalito, the one who had seen Wendy Franks taking her Sea Ray out with an unknown male passenger.

I sent him a clip of the man in black who was captured on video in the Sunset Park Prep parking lot. Not good enough for facial recognition or any recognition, but hell, maybe the dim and grainy photo would come up as a “maybe.”

It didn’t.

I texted him the info Alvarez had turned up; name and numbers of the certification and vessel ID. The harbor master had no such vessel at his marina. He offered to check around and I thanked him.

We broke for pizza, and then put our eyes back on our screens. The day moved so slowly that when Brady arrived back in the task force HQ, I was surprised that it was still light outside.

Five fifteen to be exact.

I gave Brady the rundown. “We’ve made some progress. No man called Evan Burke has a record. One did live in Sausalito and his wife and child did disappear and it is a cold case. Ten years ago, that same Evan had a Century Boats 30 Express and a license to operate it. He sold it. The current owner lives in the Caribbean. We do not have a current address for that Evan Burke, but it’s still more than we had.”

“Good work, Boxer. Time to quit for the day.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And everyone try to go to bed early tonight.”

Chapter 55

Our task force of eight put place marks between pages, saved files, made notes for the next day, and we did it quick. Then we filed down the hallway to our bullpen.

I phoned Joe from my desk and he said Julie had just had her dinner.

“Want to meet us at the park?” he said.

This was a question that made Martha act like a pup, and I was having a similar reaction. Park. Grass. Lake. Daughter, husband, and dog all together.

“You don’t have to ask twice,” I said. “I’ll be home in fifteen minutes, traffic permitting.”

Traffic permitted.

My family was waiting on the front steps of the apartment building when I cruised to a stop at the curb. Joe opened my car door, and while Julie hung on to our old doggie’s leash, Joe gave me a big smooch.

I locked the car, then picked Julie up and carried her for a full block, glad to stretch my legs and hear my daughter’s breathy voice in my ear.

“We had chicken wings.”

“Oh, good.”

“Dad saved you some pie.”

“What kind?”

“Dad, what kind?”

“Peach, right?”

“Good. I love peach pie.”

“Put me down now, Mommy.”

The park was full of dogs and families when we got there, and Julie found her friend Chrissy. While they counted, named, and fed the ducks, Joe and I took a bench with a view of the children at lake’s edge and the surrounding park.

My husband and I sat close together on a wooden bench in the twilight and I squeezed his hand.

“Bad day?” he asked me.

“Not the worst ever, but knotty.”

“Well my day hasn’t been knotty or even tangled. So lay it on me.”

“I’d hoped I could co-opt your brain for a bit.”

“Ready and eager,” he said.

I let it all out. Since I had free access to the former director of Homeland Security with years of experience with the CIA and the FBI, I thought maybe he could help me with my tricky damned case. I told him about the meeting this morning with Red Dog and Lucas Burke and his shark, Newt Gardner.

Joe said, “Burke either has more money than we know, or Gardner is seeing a lot of cameras in this case.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” I said. “Man killing his wife and baby isn’t just tabloid news. It’s 60 Minutes. We’re holding back the other victims.”

“So holding back on Misty and the sea-loving artist who’d lived in Sausalito?”

“Wendy Franks. And that young girl from Boise, Susan Wenthauser. We can’t prove anything, not even motive. Maybe before the trial, if there is one, we’ll get some evidence. We can always hope someone comes forward on Franks or Fogarty.”

“Could be very afraid.”

“Yeah. But. Right now, we have a potential turn in the case you’re not going to believe. Picture this, Joe. Burke is in the hot seat, all of us sitting around Parisi’s desk. The meeting is over. We’re two seconds from leaving the room. Then Gardner whispers to Burke and then Burke said this, Joe—”

I had to pause to get up and grab Julie before she waded into the lake. She and I had a very agreeable chat about the ducks, I said hello to Chrissy’s mom, then went back to Joe, who was smiling fondly as he watched this little scene.

“You cliff-hung me,” he said.

“Sorry. Where was