Unraveling Jane Doe (Holding The Line Book 3)

by Carol Ericson

  “I’m never going to forget you, either, Libby, but I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

  Rob had obviously seen too many people make too many mistakes in his life.

  “What if I never remember?”

  “Jennifer believes you will. You’ve already started.”

  “I can’t wait.” She dug into her yogurt parfait.

  “Once you remember everything, that’ll go a long way to keeping you safe.”

  “Yeah. Can’t wait for that, either.”

  While they ate, they tried to steer clear of her problems and his feelings. She pried into his family life a little more, and as that conversation was completely one-sided, she learned a lot about Rob Valdez—and liked him even more because of it.

  After downing her second cup of coffee, she whipped the napkin from her lap. “I’m going to use the ladies’ room before we hit the road back to Paradiso.”

  “I’ll take care of the check.”

  Libby wove through the tables toward the restrooms near the entrance. She tried the door on one, which was locked, and shuffled to the other unisex bathroom as someone came up on her heels.

  The handle turned, and as she pushed open the door, the man on her tail shoved her inside the bathroom, crowding inside behind her.

  Her heart slammed against her rib cage. Spinning around, she placed her hands against his solid chest and opened her mouth to scream. It was then she felt the barrel of a gun jabbing her gut.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rob glanced at the time on his cell phone. A flare of concern fluttered in his gut. Had Libby passed out or something?

  He downed the rest of his water and Libby’s and made his way to the front of the restaurant. He turned the corner that led to the small hallway where the restrooms were located and almost bumped into a woman coming through one of the two doors.

  He caught the door before it closed and peeked inside, but these were single, unisex bathrooms and this one was empty. Sidestepping to the next one, he tried the handle. It resisted.

  He knocked. “Libby? You still in there?”

  A man’s voice answered. “Still in here. Not Libby.”

  Rob’s pulse jumped, and his head jerked to take in the exit door to the side parking lot. Had she gone out that way to wait by the truck?

  He took one step toward the door and tripped to a stop. Pivoting back toward the occupied bathroom, he banged his fist against the door. “Libby? Libby, are you in there?”

  The door burst open, hitting his foot, and a red-faced man with bunched-up fists charged into the hallway. “What’s your problem, man?”

  Rob pushed past the man’s solid form and stumbled into the empty bathroom. He tilted his head back to survey the sealed, frosted window. No way in, no way out of that.

  He careened out of the bathroom and grabbed the jacket of the man, who by this time had dismissed him as a nut. “Who was in that bathroom before you?”

  The man yanked out of his grasp. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, dude, but you’d better back off.”

  “Sorry.” Rob flipped out his badge. “Border Patrol. I need to know what happened to the woman who was in that bathroom before you.”

  “I don’t know if it was the woman or the man who was in the john before me. They were both in the hallway and walking out the exit when I saw them.” He shrugged. “I guess it could’ve been the girl in there before me.”

  “Was she wearing jeans and a green top? Long light brown hair?”

  “I don’t know what she was wearing. Yeah, probably jeans, but she had a rockin’ body and it looked like her guy appreciated it, ’cause they were walking real close and he had his arm right around her.”

  Rob turned and ran for the door, every muscle in his body screaming. He shoved through the exit and rushed into the parking lot, his head cranking back and forth.

  “Libby! Libby!”

  “Rob! Ro...”

  When Libby’s cry reached his ears, adrenaline coursed through his body and he charged toward the sound. A shuffling, scraping noise got louder as he made his way to the edge of the parking lot.

  Hot rage thumped through his veins when he saw Libby struggling against a man with a shaved head, trying to cram her into the driver’s seat of a beat-up white sedan, a Wildcats sticker on the back.

  Libby was hanging on to the door, her feet planted in the asphalt while the man had one arm hooked around her waist and a hand on her back—a hand holding a gun.

  As the man started to raise the gun, Rob stormed at him, pointing his own weapon at his critical mass. “Stop or I’ll take you down right now.”

  Rob held his breath while the man dropped his arm from Libby’s waist. If he pulled Libby in front of him to use as a hostage, Rob would take the shot...a head shot.

  Rob growled. “Don’t even think about it.”

  The man released his gun and held up his hands. “Don’t make a scene. There are some people coming this way, although they haven’t noticed yet what’s happening.”

  “Yeah, we wouldn’t want to make a scene while you’re abducting my...this woman.” Rob’s lip curled. What was he, some kind of gentleman kidnapper?

  “I know it looks bad, but it’s not.” The man ran a hand over his shaved head.

  Libby kicked the guy in the shin and ran to Rob. “He grabbed me in the bathroom and forced me out here at gunpoint, but when he tried to get me into the car, I resisted. I told him he’d have to shoot me first...and he didn’t. Why didn’t you shoot me?”

  “My name is Troy. I don’t want to hurt you, Libby.”

  “How do you know her name?” Rob’s arm curled around Libby’s waist, and her body practically vibrated against his.

  Troy licked his lips. “I contacted her in Rocky Point. I’m the one she was on her way to meet in Paradiso. I swear to you. I have texts and everything.”

  Libby’s frame had stiffened. “Are you going to tell me you’re my husband, and I was coming to you for help? All you want to do now is take me back to Rocky Point and resume our happy life?”

  Rob ground his teeth together, his muscles aching, his head throbbing.

  Troy turned his head to the side and spit on the ground. “Oh, hell no. I’ve never met you before in my life, and I’ve already had two wives. I sure as hell don’t want any more...especially ones who kick.”

  A flood of relief swept through Rob’s body so fast, he had to lock his knees to keep upright.

  Libby needed him to keep upright. Her body sagged against his. “Wh-what do you want? Who are you, and why did you abduct me at gunpoint?”

  Tipping his head at the building behind them, Troy said, “Can we go back into the restaurant and discuss this? My weapon’s on the ground, which you can take, and we’re gonna start attracting attention. I don’t want to explain myself to the police, and I’m guessing you don’t, either.”

  Rob whispered in Libby’s ear, “Stay here.”

  He crept toward Troy and the car, his gun still firmly clutched in his hand. “Kick your weapon toward me and don’t try anything, or else one of those ex-wives is going to collect on your life insurance policy.”

  “That ain’t gonna happen. My daughter gets it all.” He nudged the weapon toward Rob with his toe. “Take it.”

  Without removing his eyes from Troy, Rob stooped to snatch up the gun. Then he approached the man, turned him around and shoved him against the car. A pat-down didn’t reveal any more weapons.

  “Start walking back to the restaurant, and remember...”

  “Yeah, I know. My daughter’s gonna collect that life insurance.” He trudged past Rob, made a wide berth around Libby and plodded toward the restaurant.

  If the hostess recognized any of them, she didn’t let on, waving them to a booth in the corner. Rob slid in first, letting Libby have the outside in case
something went down and she had to make a quick getaway. He motioned Troy to the other side.

  As Troy plopped down on the seat, Rob said, “I’ve got my gun pointed at you. One move and your daughter’s going to be an only child.”

  Troy’s eyes widened for a second and then he chuckled. “You’re not so bad for a lawman, Valdez.”

  Rob’s eye twitched. “How do you know me, and how’d you find us here? Nobody followed us from Paradiso. I’d bet my life on it.”

  “I didn’t have to follow you.” Troy laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. “I put a GPS tracker on your truck.”

  “Damn.” Rob smacked the table with his open hand, and the silverware jumped.

  A waitress scurried over. “What would you like?”

  “Coffee all around.” Rob swept his finger in a circle to encompass the table and then turned over his coffee cup.

  Libby said, “Make mine a hot tea, herbal if you have it.”

  “Chamomile okay?” The waitress filled Rob’s and Troy’s cups to the brim.

  “Perfect.”

  Rob pinned Troy with a stare. “When did you do that?”

  “I’m not giving away all my tricks, lawman.” Troy formed his fingers into a gun and pointed at Rob.

  “Stop with the quips, Troy, and tell us what you want with Libby.”

  “Well, I wanted information.” Troy rubbed the graying stubble on his chin with his knuckles. “Libby James was supposed to meet me in Paradiso to give me some information, but it doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen. I figured out soon enough when I saw you in town that you had either changed your mind or had gotten a better deal. You didn’t show up at our meeting place, and when I walked straight at you in the street wearing my San Francisco Giants baseball cap and flashing a peace sign, you didn’t even blink. That’s when I started thinking you didn’t remember a thing.”

  “Oh, God.” Libby squeezed her eyes closed and wrinkled her nose. “That was you. I remember now.”

  “Yeah, I wish you remembered more than that.”

  “Wait. This is all very clever, but why did you try to take Libby at gunpoint?” Rob drilled his finger into the table in front of Troy.

  “You wouldn’t have believed me if I’d come up to you and explained who I was.” Troy snorted. “I saw what happened to the last guy who tried that.”

  “Pablo Bustamante.” Libby crossed her arms on the table, rubbing at the gooseflesh on her skin. “What do you know about him?”

  “Nada. Just that he works for the bad guys, and his name ain’t Pablo Bustamante. I figured he was coming on like a husband and was using that baby as a prop. Am I right?” Troy dropped his chin to his chest and raised his brows to his bald head.

  “You seem to be right about an awful lot.” Libby drew back as the waitress placed her tea in front of her.

  “Thanks.” She smiled at the waitress and then turned her attention back to Troy. “Who are you, and what information did you hope to get from me?”

  “You two haven’t figured it out yet based on my slick moves?”

  Rob grunted. “You’re a PI.”

  “Bingo, lawman.” Troy slurped up his coffee and then dumped some sugar into the cup.

  “A private investigator?” Libby ripped open her tea bag and swung it around her finger, pointing at Troy. “Investigating what?”

  “I’m investigating El Gringo Viejo. He’s a...”

  Rob sliced his hand through the air. “We know what he is.”

  “I figured you did, Valdez, but what about her? I mean, I know she knew about him before she lost her marbles, but does she know about him now?” He shook his head and folded his hands around his coffee cup. “Damn, this is getting confusing.”

  “I know what he is...now. The first time I heard his moniker was from the lips of two men sent here to kill me.”

  Troy’s eyes bugged out. “That’s it, then. He is in Rocky Point like I suspected, and you know who he is.” Troy grimaced. “It’s not surprising they want to kill you. You can’t identify those guys?”

  “That’s why she’s suspicious of everyone she meets—especially people who abduct her at gunpoint.” Rob still had a grip on his own gun beneath the table. Could they trust this guy? If Troy were working for the cartels, Libby would be dead by now.

  Libby fished her tea bag from her cup and watched the drops fall back into the steaming water. “What info was I supposed to give you about El Gringo Viejo? Did I know the man? Associate with him?”

  “You and I weren’t even sure this guy you knew was El Gringo Viejo, but if those two thugs sent here to murder you mentioned his name, it’s a good bet he is.”

  “I know him?” Libby abandoned her soggy tea bag in the saucer and folded her hands in her lap. “How would I know someone like that?”

  “You’re an artist. You have some fancy art gallery in town.” Troy’s eyes narrowed to slits. “The man with the big villa on the outskirts of town likes art. He’d contacted you before I did.”

  “The big villa on the cliffs overlooking the water.” Libby’s eyes grew glassy as she stared into her teacup as if hoping to read the tea leaves to her past there.

  Troy scooted closer to the table. “You remember that?”

  “I’ve seen a hypnotist.”

  Rob nudged her foot beneath the table. She must already trust this guy, but he’d rather do a little private investigating of his own first.

  “Smart move.” Troy snapped his fingers. “You didn’t remember anything else?”

  “I remembered the art gallery, but Rob and I had already done some sleuthing of our own and we deduced that I was Libby James, an artist and gallery owner in Rocky Point.” Libby slid a glance at Rob, and he shook his head.

  If Troy noticed the gesture, he didn’t react. Rob didn’t want Libby telling Troy about the dead body she remembered, or anything else, until he had a chance to check him out.

  Rob blew out a breath. “Look, what’s your name? Your last name. And why are you investigating El Gringo Viejo? How did you know he was in Rocky Point when the Border Patrol, DEA, FBI and the Federales don’t know where he is?”

  Troy plunged two fingers into the front pocket of his wrinkled shirt and pulled out two business cards. “One for you, and one for you.”

  Rob picked up the card Troy had placed in front of him on the table. “Troy Paulsen, private investigator. Oh, look here. You have a license and everything.”

  “That’ll make it easier for you to run me, won’t it, lawman? I even have a license to carry that gun you’re holding on me.”

  “You don’t have a license to draw that gun on an innocent woman.”

  “I’m sorry, Libby.” Troy spread his spatulate fingers on the Formica. “I needed to talk to you, and I knew you wouldn’t remember me and our meeting. I was never going to hurt you. I was afraid to approach you in Paradiso with the cartel watching your every move.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Libby put her hand to her throat.

  “Maybe you need to adopt some better business practices, Paulsen.” Rob flicked the corner of the card. “You still didn’t answer me. Why are you nosing around El Gringo Viejo, and how’d you get this far?”

  “PIs aren’t under the same rules and constraints as law enforcement. We can get information in ways you can’t and from people who wouldn’t give you the time of day. I know people in low places, lawman, unlike you.”

  “You have no idea.” Rob twisted his lips. “Who hired you? Because I know you’re not tracking down a cartel supplier out of the goodness of your heart. Is it one of the cartels? If it is, this stops here and now. Libby’s not going to be involved with that business.”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I was working for Adam Hart.”

  Rob bared his teeth. “That’s a lie. Adam Hart is dead, and I know the person who
killed him.”

  “I said I was working for Adam Hart. I know he’s dead, but it’s not because he was looking for El Gringo Viejo.”

  “Not directly.” Rob waved off the waitress hovering with the coffeepot. “Why are you still on the job if your client is dead? Hoping to cash in big if you bring EGV down?”

  “Funny you should call him EGV. That’s what she calls him.”

  Rob swallowed. “Who?”

  “My new client, the person who hired me—Adam Hart’s sister, April Hart, or I guess she’s April Archer now. She hired me.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Libby gasped as Rob’s stomach sank.

  She dug her elbows into the table and propped her chin in one hand, as she leaned toward Troy. “April hired you to find EGV because she thinks he’s her father.”

  “Wow. How do you know all that? Oh, yeah.” Troy smacked his forehead. “She’s married to a Border Patrol agent herself. You obviously know April, and you know what she believes.”

  “Does she know about this?” Rob wagged his finger back and forth between Libby and Troy. “Does she know you came to Paradiso to meet someone from Rocky Point who could ID EGV?”

  “She doesn’t know nothin’. I don’t operate that way. Her brother didn’t much like it, but I play it close to the vest. I don’t give my clients nothin’ until I can bring them results. April?” Troy dusted his hands together. “She doesn’t even know what I look like. I contacted her after her brother died, told her what was going on and asked her if she wanted me to continue the investigation. She gave me the green light and transfers money to me when I send her my receipts and accounting every month.”

  “Sweet deal...for you.”

  “Hey, man. I get results.” Troy drilled his knuckle into the table with every word. “I got the heads-up that EGV was near Rocky Point. I went there for a vacation, put out some feelers and discovered this rich dude had a compound on the coast—electric fences, guards, dogs, the whole nine yards. I also found out he was an art lover. Then it got a little hot, and I had to leave, but not before I discovered the guy’s interest in local art. So, I contacted Libby James.”