by Patricia Fry
“Whoa, it sure sound like you know my…um…friend.”
“Yes, I had the opportunity to talk with her on a couple of occasions.” He smiled. “I don’t meet many like her. Actually, I can relate on a personal level.” He gazed at something on his desk for a moment. “She reminds me of myself. I think that’s why I was drawn to her.” He looked up. “I felt sorry for her. I could tell she was out of her element and she was suffering.”
“Suffering?” Savannah repeated
He leaned back in his chair. “As I said, this sort of activity isn’t her thing. It became too difficult for her and I believe that’s why she left us.”
“She left the group?” Savannah’s voice was uncommonly shrill.
He nodded.
“Where did she go?”
“I’m pretty sure she came back to LA.” He tilted his head and asked, “But she hasn’t returned home that you know of? Are you sure she didn’t travel on to someplace else before going home?” He thought for a moment, then said, “Actually, that would be her style—to extend her…um…vacation to—you know, save face among her friends and lift her own self-confidence.” When Savannah seemed confused, he added, “She’s the type who wouldn’t want anyone to think she couldn’t pass muster. Know what I mean?”
Savannah leaned forward in her chair. “So did she leave with someone or was she alone? Where were you when she left? Did she take a plane? Did someone drive her to an airport? How can you be sure she even made it back to LA?”
Paul stared across the desk at her. “I’m sorry, I don’t actually know.”
“You don’t know where you were when she left?”
“No. You see, I left the excursion, as well—actually before Brianna did. I didn’t know she’d left until I got back to work here. I…um…I returned to the states for health reasons.”
“But the other guide—Heather—she was still there? How could she let Brianna go like that? Don’t you have a contract with your clients saying they have to stay with you? Aren’t you responsible for them for the duration of the tour?”
Paul frowned. “Hey, she’s an adult. She wasn’t our prisoner.” He sat back in his chair. “Sure, we expect guests to stay with us for the entire trip.” He shook his head. “But things happen. I’m not actually sure Brianna let anyone know when she left. I may be able to find out more from Heather. It’s my understanding, though, that Brianna just left. I can put you in touch with Heather, if you’d like. But, as you may know, Brianna is headstrong. She’s going to do what she’s going to do and, as I alluded to, she may simply not be ready to go home and face her former life.” He leaned forward. “So you haven’t heard from her at all—you’ve received nothing—no word?”
“Uh…no,” Savannah said. “Nothing.”
He paused and asked, “And why would you notice that a friend didn’t arrive home? A relative, maybe.” He squinted at Savannah. “You aren’t a cop, are you?”
She thinned her lips in frustration. “No. I’ve known Brianna most of her life. I know the family.” She leaned forward. “I’d sure like to speak with some of the people who were with Brianna on the May twentieth adventure. Can you put me in touch with any of them?”
Paul shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t divulge client information. We promise to protect the privacy of our guests. It’s somewhat irregular that I would even talk about an encounter with a guest, but this appears to be a special case.”
“Then how do I contact Heather?” Savannah asked impatiently.
“Well,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “I’m afraid she’s out of the country at the moment…um…on another adventure. She’s unavailable until…” he looked at the computer. “It looks like she’ll be back here in late June—around the twenty-sixth.”
Savannah glanced quickly around the room, then picked up her purse. “Well, thank you,” she said a little sarcastically as she walked out of Paul’s office, down the hall, and into the reception area. She nodded toward Cindy and Robin, then exited into the parking lot and approached Margaret, who was standing with Rags under a small tree a distance from the car.
“What did you find out?” Margaret asked eagerly.
“Zilch.” Savannah nodded in the direction of the car. “Let’s talk while we drive, shall we?” She took Rags’s leash, then checked the temperature of the pavement before leading him out of the shade toward the car.
The cat walked along obediently with the women until something caught his attention. Suddenly he darted, causing Savannah to trip over a parking bumper. “Rags,” she scolded, quickly catching her balance. When she saw what he was up to, she began taking up the slack on the leash in order to get her hands on him. “No, Rags!” she yelled.
“What’s he doing?” Margaret asked. She started to laugh when she saw him chasing after something that was bouncing and skipping along the pavement. “What is that?”
“I don’t know,” Savannah complained, tugging on the leash. “Come on, Rags.”
But before she could control him, he pounced on his find, picked it up in his mouth, and began dutifully leading Savannah toward the car.
Margaret trotted ahead, attempting to see what he had. “Vannie, it looks like a drugstore purchase.” She laughed. “Maybe he went shopping over there at that pharmacy when I wasn’t looking.”
Before they could catch up to the cat, they heard another voice. “Hey, it’s that cat again.” Savannah turned in time to see Bruce smiling at Rags. “What’s he got there?” He looked up at Savannah. “Did you teach him to carry things for you?” He laughed. “If that don’t beat all. Look at that.”
“No,” Savannah said, “I don’t know where that came from.” She gazed around the parking lot. “It’s probably trash. Or someone dropped it.” She walked toward Rags, keeping the leash taut. “What is that, Ra…” She cleared her throat. “…Smokey? Let me see it, Smokey.”
“Here, I’ll catch him for you,” Bruce offered, grabbing hold of the cat. He held onto Rags, waiting for Savannah to take the item from him.
Rags began to squirm, however, and he wriggled loose, quickly trotting under the car.
“Darn it, Smokey,” Savannah called, “we don’t have time for this!”
Bruce lowered his head. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Savannah said. “He’s not easy to handle.”
“Yeah, he has a mind of his own,” Margaret said, leaning over and peering under the car. “Drag him out, Van…I mean, Liz,” she insisted.
“Wait,” Bruce said, “I’ll climb under there and get him.” He addressed Savannah. “Keep hold of the leash, now.” Bruce lay down flat on his stomach and looked under the car. “Come on, pussycat. Your momma has someplace to go.” After some coaxing and pulling on the leash, they managed to get Rags out in the open, but the item was not with him. “Uh-oh,” he said. “I’ll get it.”
Savannah picked up the cat. “Wait, let me back out, then you can get it.”
Bruce stood and brushed off his clothes. “Okay.”
That’s when Savannah noticed something. She stood stunned, staring at the man.
He became visibly uncomfortable under her scrutiny and started to fidget. Finally, holding out one hand, he said, “I’m Bruce.” He shook his head. “I guess you know that.” He nodded toward the adventure-travel company office. “I saw you in there. My brother works there and I do too.” He focused on the cat in Savannah’s arms. “That sure is a nice cat. But he seems to be a lot of trouble for you. I’d be glad to take him off your hands.”
Savannah frowned. “No thanks.”
Margaret chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider, Liz?”
“I’d take real good care of him,” Bruce said. “I take care of a lot of animals.”
“No,” Savannah said. She stared at him for a few more moments, then opened the car door, put Rags inside, and slid into the driver’s seat. She lowered her window. “Look out, Bruce, I’m going to pull out so you can get
that package.” Before putting the car in gear, she raised the window and hissed at her aunt, “Look at his shirt. Look at his shirt.”
“Huh?” she asked, turning in her seat. “What’s wrong with it?”
Whispering now, Savannah said, “His pocket. Look at the shirt pocket.” She put the car in reverse and backed up slowly, then watched as Bruce picked up the item. She lowered her window again and he handed it to her. At the same time, Margaret gasped upon seeing Bruce’s shirt. Savannah made quick eye contact with her, then took the package from Bruce and opened it. “It’s someone’s prescription.” She read the name on the package, “Paul Carter.”
“Hey, that’s my brother,” Bruce said. “Give it to me; I’ll take it to him.” He pointed. “Like I told you, he works right there.”
Savannah put the item back into the small bag and handed it to Bruce, but before releasing it, she said, “Hey Bruce, I like your outfit.”
He looked down at what he was wearing and smiled. “Really?”
“Yes, those suspenders are cool and your shirt—it must be one of your favorites.”
“You got that right,” he said, grinning widely.
She touched the patched pocket. “Uh-oh, it looks like you tore it. But you put a patch on there. Did you do that yourself?”
“Uh-huh. I caught it on some barbed wire. I…um…found this material to use.”
“Found it? Where?” Savannah pushed.
Bruce glanced around nervously. “Um…I just found it. That’s all.”
Turning on her charm, Savannah said, “I’d really like to know. You must be so clever to have noticed this fabric and to have sewn it onto your shirt like that. Did you find it here in your brother’s office?”
He licked his lips. “Um…no…no…not in his office; in the business center.”
“The business center?”
“Yeah, they have a business center in there for guests—you know, people who go on those trips. They aren’t supposed to take their computers and phones with them.” He glanced around the area before saying more quietly, “Some of them do.” He laughed. “But they can’t use them for long because there’s no place to plug in. Paul says it’s called primitive travel.”
“So, Bruce, you found this great swatch of fabric in the business center?”
“Yeah, Paul—you know, my brother…well, he called a special meeting and everyone had to come out of the business center and hear the message. Paul sent me back in there to get something and that’s when I seen it.”
“What?” Savannah asked.
“This piece of material sticking out of an envelope. Someone had put it in an envelope to mail, I guess. I thought it was nice and I found some scissors and cut a piece off of it—just enough so I could patch my shirt.”
“Who had put it into the envelope, Bruce?” Savannah asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe one of the guests.”
“Was this guest leaving on a trip or coming back from a trip?”
“Oh, there was a mix. We’d brought people back from one trip and there was people getting ready to go on another one.” He smiled. “I’d just drove a bunch of them from the airport myself.”
“So you don’t know where that material came from?”
“No. I didn’t go back in the business center after that and I didn’t see that envelope again.” He shook his head. “No, I didn’t see it anymore. I don’t know whose it was.”
“Were there just guests in the business center or did any of the leaders go in there that day?”
Bruce thought for a moment. “Yeah, some of the guides went in there to use their phones and computers.”
“How many people were in there?”
“Gosh, I guess around…let’s see…there are maybe ten stations, but some people double-up at the stations…” He looked at Savannah. “Why? Why do you need to know this? You’re stressing my brain.”
“So maybe there were fifteen or twenty people in the room that day?”
He put his hands against his head and winced as if the questions were actually hurting his brain. “Yeah, twelve or fifteen, maybe.”
“Bruce, can you get me the names and contact information for the guests who went on the May twentieth trip?” When he looked askance, she said sweetly, “It’s really, really important, Bruce.”
“I don’t know. They don’t like me hanging around in the office much—just when I do the cleaning.”
“Please, Bruce,” Savannah said, running one hand over his suspender. “I’d sure be grateful.”
“Maybe, I guess.”
“That would be great, Bruce. So when do you think you could do it? Later today? How can we get in touch with you?”
Bruce looked around and fidgeted with something in his pocket. “Um…I’ll call you. What’s your number?”
Savannah hesitated, then wrote down Margaret’s cell phone number and handed it to Bruce.
He reached out one last time to pet Rags, who had climbed into Savannah’s lap and was stretching toward the open window. “Sure wish you’d give me that cat.”
“We’ll wait for your call,” Savannah said, raising her window.
As Savannah drove out of the parking lot, Margaret shouted, “Vannie, that was fabric from Brianna’s suitcase!”
“I know. I know.” The first chance she got, Savannah pulled over.
Margaret glanced around and asked frantically, “What are you doing?”
“I’m calling Craig. We need to get him down here right away.”
“Why?” Margaret asked. “Can’t we just call the police? Those guys are guilty, pure and simple.”
Savannah stared at her aunt for a moment. “Who? Of what?”
“Well, those adventure people must have Brianna.”
“Where? Do you know where?” When Margaret didn’t answer, Savannah said, “I agree that something’s fishy, but we don’t know who sent us that ransom note—someone with the company or a traveler. We don’t know where to start looking for Brianna. We need Craig here to help us figure it out.” She put her phone up to her ear. “Craig,” she said anxiously, “where are you?”
“At the airport.”
“Where?”
“In New York. Why?”
“We think we have a possible witness to who has Brianna.”
Craig was quiet for a moment, then asked, “A witness? Are you sure?”
“Well…um...its a…” she stammered. “Craig, we just met a man—a sort of simple man, actually…he has a patch on his shirt made out of material from Brianna’s carpetbag.” Her voice became pinched. “Craig, it’s the same fabric that came in the mail with the ransom note. He said he found it in the business center at the adventure company here in LA. It was tucked into an envelope. He says he doesn’t know who had it. He helped himself to a piece of it while everyone was out of the room. Craig, we need to get the roster for the trip Brianna took. Bruce—the man we talked to—might help us with that. Maybe if you come here and talk to him, he’ll remember something more that will help us find Brianna.”
“You’re still in Los Angeles?”
“Yes. Can you come? I think we’re close to discovering something and I don’t want to bungle it and put Brianna in more danger than she’s already in.”
Craig cleared his throat and coughed. Sounding weary, he said, “Okay, let me see if I can change my flight. I don’t have much time. We’ll be boarding soon. If I can’t get a flight from here, I’ll book one in Frisco. I’ll keep you posted. Do you have a room there?”
“No. We’re going to see if we can find some now. I’ll let you know where we are once we get settled. Better sleep on the plane, Craig; we may have a big day tomorrow.”
Craig hesitated. “Yeah, could be.”
After Savannah ended the call, she said, “Auntie, we need to find a couple of rooms. Craig’s going to meet us here.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Hop
efully sometime tomorrow morning.”
“Let’s make some calls,” Margaret suggested, “rather than driving all over the place looking for a vacancy.”
“Good idea.” After making several calls, and being unable to find two rooms available, she said, “Wait, let me check something. I wonder if Peter’s beach house happens to be vacant this week. We’re not far from there.”
Margaret’s face lit up. “A beach house; that would be nice.”
Savannah smiled, then said into the phone, “Rochelle, hi. It’s Savannah.”
“Hi, Savannah. How are you and that lovely little boy of yours? Thank you for the photo. He’s beautiful—just like his sister.”
“Thank you. The children are fine. Hey, Rochelle, my aunt and I are in Los Angeles, not too far from Peter’s house, and we need a place to stay.”
“What’s going on, Savannah? I sense from your tone that this isn’t a pleasure trip. Are the children and Michael with you?”
“No, just the two of us.” She let out a sigh. “Brianna may have gotten herself into some trouble and Auntie and I came down here for the day, hoping to get some information, but we’re going to have to stay. We’re meeting Craig Sledge here tomorrow and…” Savannah began to choke up. “We can’t find any place to stay. I was hoping there was an off chance that…”
“Oh, the beach house? Let me check, Savannah. Peter’s right here. He’s the one who handles the rental property. Hold on, will you?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
Within seconds, Peter came on the line. “Hi, Savannah. Yes, the house is vacant as we speak. I had someone moving in for the week, but they bailed on me and I didn’t have time to find another tenant on short notice. If you and your aunt want it, by all means it’s yours, for as long as you need it. I don’t have another renter coming in until the seventeenth.”
“Oh, Peter, you’re a lifesaver. Of course, we’ll pay our way.”
“You will not! You need a place to crash, it’s yours. End of story.”