He stared out of the window. Then he turned tired eyes to her and said, “You should be able to find everything you need here. The marquee advertised a wig store, too. Go there first.” Bowen undid his seat belt and withdrew cash from his wallet. “Don’t use your money. I’ll expense this all to Cal.” He handed her the slew of twenty-dollar bills. “Is that enough?”
She had no idea how much a wig cost but nodded and climbed out of the truck, baseball cap squished down on her head.
As they walked towards the entrance, Bowen rolled his shoulders and moved his head side to side. “I’ll be glad to sleep a bit after breakfast. While we’re in the mall, I’ll keep my distance. I don’t want us seen together. Get everything you need, but hurry. And do your best to keep your head down in case of cameras.”
The automatic doors hissed open, and she entered, leaving the sunglasses on to hide swollen eyes. Wendy’s Wigs didn’t open for another twenty minutes. Sadie paused at the door, hoping Bowen would understand why she went to the drugstore first.
After her basket overflowed with toiletries and makeup, she added a fancy pair of sunglasses with large, dark lenses. If she had to be in disguise, she’d do it with style, and she could ditch the clip-ons and fake glasses.
At Wendy’s Wigs, Sadie tried on two auburn pieces. Neither suited her. The clerk suggested a platinum blonde number. Shoulder length, straight, with bangs.
“This is the one.” Forget being a knockout redhead.
Bowen’s cash didn’t quite cover the cost, but the wig looked too good to pass up. Sadie pulled a few bills from her stash and then sauntered out of the store, right past Bowen, whose mouth hung open. She exited the mall and waited at the pickup.
He whistled as he approached. “Wow. I can’t keep my eyes off you.”
“In that case, give me the keys.”
Sadie slid behind the wheel and moved the seat forward. “Hop in, mister, or you’ll be hitching a ride to L.A.”
“Stop wherever you want for breakfast. I’m going to sit here and admire the view.”
She couldn’t help smiling at his banter, but there were too many questions about his behavior in Austin for her to take his attention seriously.
Although much bigger and more powerful than her little sedan, the pickup reminded her of the SUV she’d owned in L.A. Shaking off the painful memories, she concentrated on the traffic.
On the outskirts of the city, she pulled into a gas station next to a restaurant advertising the best pancakes in Texas.
After Bowen topped off the gas tank, Sadie parked in front of the café.
Cap tugged low on his brow, he hauled his computer case over the backseat. “I do need to check my e-mail and a few sources.”
With wig and new sunglasses in place, she climbed out of the truck. The disguise injected a bounce of confidence in her step.
They were seated at a booth near the back and had coffee served right away.
After ordering, Bowen plugged in his laptop, inserted his Wi-Fi card, and concentrated on the screen.
Dark stubble covered his chin, and his eyes drooped in weariness. She’d let him sleep all through New Mexico if she lasted that long. Her whole body ached from the scuffles with Bowen and Kyle.
The waitress served their pancake orders and left a tray containing four syrup varieties. She ate and drank in silence, eager to get back on the road.
Bowen drained his coffee mug and pointed to the computer screen to his right. “I’m checking Austin American-Statesman’s website. Maybe you’re in the newspaper’s headlines.” But then his eyes widened and he pulled the screen closer.
“Sadie.” He hesitated before turning the computer so she could read the news story. “You’re not going to believe this. Griff’s been murdered.”
15
Heart galloping, and with pancakes and coffee threatening a return trip, Sadie buckled her seatbelt and started the truck.
Bowen opened his laptop again and drummed his fingers while waiting for the newspaper website to load.
Gripping the steering wheel, she peeked at the computer screen. “Tell me exactly what the article says. How did Griff die? When?” After reading the headline in the restaurant, they’d paid the bill and left. She wanted—needed—details.
“I need to scroll down a bit. Here it is. He was found in his car at a convenience store. Shot twice—in the chest and head. Robbery not considered a motive. He still had his wallet. Evidence of a struggle. And evidence of a passenger.” Bowen paused a moment. “When you called him last night, did you get any sense he was in danger?”
Strident tones of the brief conversation from the previous evening echoed through her head. “He used our code word indicating I was in danger. His voice was even, but I heard a sound in the background, like someone else talking. I remember thinking he had company.”
“There’s more.” Bowen scanned the article. “Authorities checked his phone records. They say the last call he received was at midnight. The caller is wanted for questioning.”
Sadie had called Griff at midnight. She may have been the last person to talk to him, other than the killer, of course.
Blinking back tears, she argued with herself about whether to turn back or not. She couldn’t help Griff now. If she returned to Austin, she’d have nothing to contribute to his case and would forfeit the opportunity to find Hannah. That settled the argument. She must find Hannah.
Bowen closed his laptop, slipped it into its case, and returned it to the backseat. “Are you OK?”
“No.” Sadie tightened her hold on the steering wheel. “But there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“You’re right and I’m sorry. I’m—“
“Stop! Just stop. I don’t want to talk about him.”
He held up his hands as if to ward off her rant. Lowering the cap over his eyes, he slumped in the seat. “I really am sorry about your friend. Wake me when you need a break.”
****
New Mexico real estate flashed by in a blur. Straight black ribbons of tarmac stretched as far as she could see. Yellow lines zoomed by, as in a surreal daydream. With cruise control on and a jazz radio station that never faded, Sadie felt as if she’d slipped into autopilot. Turn the wheel here, pass a vehicle there. Good thing she had a gazillion images dancing through her brain to keep her awake.
Would Hannah recognize her? How tall would she be? Sadie pictured Hannah in a soccer uniform. Had the Adams woman treated her well? Who murdered Griff and why? What about his wife and children?
The tarmac shimmered in the midday sun. Sadie adjusted the oversized sunglasses. She longed to share the troubling thoughts. But Bowen’s heavy breathing signaled deep sleep. She glanced at his clasped hands, knuckles grazed and swollen, tiny scabs from her raking nails. Her champion.
They entered Arizona and Sadie stopped at a rest area.
Bowen stirred and shifted in his seat. “Want me to drive yet?”
“No. I need a restroom break.” She took the keys from the ignition and opened the door. “Are you getting out?”
Bowen adjusted his cap and yawned. “Guess so.”
They went separate ways, and when Sadie returned to the pickup, Bowen leaned against the door with arms folded and the cap bill shading his face. He stood so still, for a moment she thought he was asleep.
The beep-beep of the vehicle remote startled him.
“I’ll keep driving, at least to Tucson. You need more beauty rest.”
He stretched and climbed in. “Great. We’re making good time, but I don’t think any amount of shut-eye will help my looks.” His one-dimple smile disappeared quickly.
Once on Interstate 10 again, he resumed the almost prone position and fell asleep.
Sadie envied people who could fall asleep so quickly. It always took her forever.
Although she enjoyed the variety of jazz, she experimented with the array of satellite stations. She found one with music that carried her back to college days and the first time she met Aaro
n. Alone with her memories, the miles streaked by.
Close to Tucson, Bowen woke up. He squinted at the scenery, flexed his fingers, and groaned. “This bed is not comfortable.”
“Want to stop and stretch?”
“No. Let’s wait until we get through Tucson. You OK with that?”
“Yeah. I’d like to wash off, too.”
He leaned over the seats and extracted two bottles of water from the sack. After opening them, he handed one to her.
“Thanks.”
“Let’s find a truck stop where we can shower and change clothes.” The contents of his bottle disappeared in one gulp.
“Good idea. My slacks will never be the same.” She’d added a splotch of coffee to the grass stains from her failed escape attempt.
He glanced at his watch. “Slept about three and a half hours. Not bad. I’ll take over on the other side of Tucson. But first I need to call about Kyle. If he’s still trussed up in your tub, he’ll need rescuing.”
Bowen opened his wallet and slipped out a small card. He punched a number on his phone, and after a few seconds, said, “This is Boudine. Echo Bravo Charlie, five-four-seven-nine. I need a sweeper.” Then he read a series of numbers off the card and added Sadie’s Austin address. “You may have to clean up some. The usual. And one more thing. Can you check on the murder of Miles Griffin, a U. S. Marshal? Thanks.”
With the phone back in his pocket, he shoved the small card into his wallet and eased out the photograph of the woman and child.
Good. The perfect opening to pummel him with her barrage of questions, but first she had to know. “Who’d you call and what’s with the Echo Bravo sweeper bit?”
After donning a pair of mirrored sunglasses he’d retrieved from the glove box, he chuckled. “It’s best you don’t know, sweetheart. Kyle will be taken care of.”
“You don’t mean taken care of as in…killed, do you?” She checked for a reaction.
He folded his arms, biceps bulging, jaw muscles clenched. “No. That’s not our style. But he won’t carry any tales to the cops.”
Traffic increased, and she concentrated on the vehicles around them.
But before they stopped to shower, she needed other questions answered.
She pointed to the photo he’d placed on the console between them. “Why did you tell me her name was Sadie? Did you do that on purpose?”
“Sadie, dear, everything I did was deliberate. Except…”
“Except what?” A mile sped by, and she gave up. “Your job at Rhodes, attending Hillcrest—all designed to break into my life, right?”
“Yup. And it worked.”
A troop of motorbikes passed the pickup, the roar of the engines filling the cab.
Sadie wanted to throw accusations, but how could she? She owed him her life. “How much of what you told me about your background is true? I know you’re more than a carpenter.”
He pointed to a billboard advertising a truck stop. “Look at that. Remember the exit number. They have showers.” After a pause, he continued. “I was born in San Diego and lived there until I attended UCLA. After I graduated I worked overseas, in Washington D.C., and in Virginia. I’ve been back in L.A. now about three months. My father passed away last year and my mother lives—“
“Whoa. Your father and mother. So, were you raised in foster care?”
“No.”
Sympathy his story had generated in her heart melted and turned to indignation. How dare he prey on her childhood memories of life without parents? Words clawed at her throat. She shot him a glance she hoped conveyed her disgust.
“I’m sorry, Sadie. It was cruel but necessary.”
“Humph.” She swallowed the anger. “I assume since you graduated from UCLA that your story about an alternate high school was also a lie.”
“I had to make up something to cover my blunder with the mascot.” He shifted in his seat. “Pretty much everything I told you was a variation of the truth.”
Silence wedged between them.
Sadie tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel. “Fine. Now tell me the rest of your real story.”
“My mother and Charlotte still live in San Diego.”
“Who’s Charlotte?”
“My sister.”
“Sister? Why’d you lie about her? You said you had a brother. Oh, now I get it. You needed to get me thinking about brothers.”
“My cover story, Sadie. It wasn’t meant to hurt you. I used trigger words to elicit responses.”
She applied the brakes to disengage the cruise control and focused on the mud flaps of an eighteen-wheeler in front of her. “Your strategy worked. It resurrected my past in living color.”
“I’m sorry, but everything I did had a purpose. To reconnect you with Cal and possibly Hannah.”
His words seeped into her mind and slowly vaporized her hurt feelings. His soft tone and gentle pressure on her arm sent tingles to her heart. She may see Hannah very soon.
Traffic slowed as they eased through downtown Phoenix. The warmth of Bowen’s hand reminded Sadie of other answers she needed. She shook off thoughts of Hannah and lowered her arm, forcing Bowen to remove his hand.
“A few more questions while you’re in a disclosing mood. I know Cal hired you, but who do you work for?”
“I’m a private investigator, of sorts. That’s all I can tell you, for now.”
“OK.” She pointed to the photo again. “I know she’s not your wife, but are you married?” Why did every inch of her being wait in limbo for his answer?
“Divorced eleven years ago. No kids.” His flat tone hung in the air.
A flicker of hope sparked in her heart. “Why’d you divorce? Was it related to your job?”
He folded his arms, and by the set of his jaw, Sadie thought he wouldn’t answer, but one word slipped out.
“Booze.”
“What did you say?”
“I drank too much. Liz handled it as long as she could. Then she left me.” The fingers of his right hand drummed on his left bicep. “She filed for divorce, and I quit drinking.”
Sadie veered past a large pothole. “I’m sorry.” What else could she say? Although she and Aaron seldom had more than an occasional glass of wine, she’d had several foster parents who overindulged. She knew firsthand the devastation alcohol could cause.
Removing his sunglasses, he slipped them into his pocket. “Been off the stuff for eleven years.”
A car horn blared somewhere behind them. Sadie gripped the wheel and stole a look at Bowen. He slumped in the seat, arms folded again.
“That’s something to be proud of.”
He snorted and relaxed his arms. “But it cost me.”
They drove the next miles in silence until she turned into in the truck stop parking lot.
“Take in whatever toiletries you need and a change of clothes. We’ll shower first and then eat.” Bowen slid out of the pickup and opened the back door.
Sadie located sneakers, jeans, underwear, a pair of socks, and a blue T-shirt and stowed the items in the bag with her drugstore purchases.
With a small duffle bag and computer case slung over his shoulder, Bowen asked, “Got the keys?”
In answer, she tossed them to him.
He caught the key ring and closed the door. “Let’s be quick. The sooner we’re back on the highway, the better.” Once inside the facility, Bowen paid for two showers and they entered separate areas.
Sadie left her sandals on and hoped they’d survive their dunking. The warm water pounded tension off her stiff muscles. But as much as she wanted to linger, she dried off on the thin, scratchy white towel and dressed. After using the blow dryer on her short curls, she positioned the wig in place. A touch of makeup, all items stowed in the sack, and she was ready. She’d neglected to purchase a toiletry bag so everything jumbled together.
Patrons’ chatter, the clinking of silverware, and whiffs of grease, coffee, and stale tobacco smoke led Sadie from the showers to the res
taurant.
Clean-shaven Bowen in cowboy-cut jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt, waited at the entrance. No cap, no sunglasses. Damp curls slicked back. Eyes wide and innocent, searching for her. Sadie drew in a breath and glanced in the bag so he couldn’t read her expression. He lied. Everything he ever said was a lie.
But Cal sent him. She would have to forgive Bowen’s methods if they led to a reunion with her daughter. Her heart softened a little, and she joined him at the hostess podium.
While they waited to be seated, he leaned close.
Wisps of a citrusy aftershave tickled her nose. Sadie inhaled deeply but kept her eyes lowered.
“At first I thought that style of wig was a mistake. But you look nothing like your old photos. Observers will notice the hair, your figure, your confident air. They won’t see you—if that makes sense—and they certainly won’t pay me any heed.”
For nearly three years, she’d worked hard at being invisible. The wig gave her a measure of anonymity and the boldness to stand next to this man.
A young waitress with a braided black ponytail directed Bowen and Sadie to a booth. They scanned the menu and ordered quickly.
Bowen opened his laptop, punched the power button, then attached the wireless card. When the newspaper website loaded, he turned the computer so they both could see the screen.
“Griff’s story has been updated.” He scrolled down and pointed to the last paragraph. “What do you think of that? Authorities are close to releasing the name of a suspect.”
The words danced around her brain. Did this mean they wouldn’t trace her phone call?
After closing the computer, Bowen took a long drink of iced tea. “Hmm, I feel like a new man. Shave, shower, ready to conquer the world.” He took Sadie’s hand. “And you, sweetheart, you have admiring glances from all the men in here.”
“Stop lying, and don’t call me sweetheart.”
His grasp tightened, and she couldn’t pull away. “Go with the flow. There really are two guys eyeing you. Don’t make any obvious movements, but they’re at the counter.”
Weep In The Night Page 11