But goddamn it, last night had changed her attitude. It had given her rebellious energy. Made her defiant. Hungry for more.
She was not going to die today.
9
Nate took his place in line in the Bakery Café, careful not to look at the well-dressed guy and his goons. The well-dressed guy stood there, arms folded, staring at the menu board as one of his men placed the breakfast order for them.
The girl at the counter was round-faced, with a bouncy ash-blonde ponytail. Her name was some kind of tree, he recalled vaguely. Willow, maybe. She gave the men a toothy smile that glittered with braces. “Here ya go with your coffees, sir! I’ll bring those breakfast sandwiches right out to ya soon as they’re ready!”
The well-dressed guy approached the counter. “Excuse me, miss. Could I ask you a quick question?”
“Uh, sure, I guess,” Willow said, blinking.
“I work at the Conference Center in Granger Valley, and I really love those chalkboard art menus you have. I want to get someone to do some similar art work for our events at the conference center. Those menus look like the ones at Demi’s Corner Café.”
“Oh, yeah! They totally are!” Willow looked up at the menus, which were decorated with drawings of buns, rolls, tarts, sandwiches, cakes, and sheaves of grain. “So? Like, what about ‘em?”
“Are you the artist?” the guy asked.
Willow giggled. “No way. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. Elisa did those. She’s, like, amazing. Raelene, my boss, saw the ones that Elisa did for Demi at the Corner Café and asked Elisa to do some for us, too. Elisa comes in to do fresh ones every couple of weeks. She does them for some other places around town, too.”
“Elisa,” the man said thoughtfully. “Wait. Maybe I met her at that literacy event at the library last month. Isn’t Elisa the short Brazilian lady with the white hair?”
Willow looked clouded. “I don’t know any Elisa like that,” she said doubtfully. “The Elisa I know is pretty young. Maybe little older than me. She’s, like, twenty-seven, twenty-eight tops. She has long, curly dark hair, and she’s slim, and she wears glasses. She’s mostly at the diner, ‘cause she works for Demi, but the diner’s closed right now, since Demi and Eric got married yesterday.”
Nate stared out the window as he listened to Willow rattle on. Conference Center in Granger Valley, his ass. Mystery Guy and his goons were not from Granger Valley. Not with CA vanity plates on his late-model black Audi.
But he wasn’t with Kimball, either. Kimball’s guys wouldn’t be interested in anybody’s chalkboard art. This guy was trolling for Elisa. Specifically for Elisa.
And he knew that he had found her. Nate could tell, from the smirk of triumph on his face as he sipped coffee and waited for his breakfast sandwich.
Nate got his cup of coffee, paid Willow, and headed outside, fishing out the burner phone he’d gotten for their private intel. He hit the quick-dial number for Chief Bristol.
“Who the hell is this?” Wade Bristol answered, in a longsuffering, sleep-roughened voice. The guy had looked worn out even at the wedding reception last night. Chief Bristol had definitely not signed on for problems this big when he’d agreed to be Chief of Police.
“Hey, Chief. It’s Nate. I just saw a suspicious character staking out the diner this morning. Then I overheard him in the Bakery Café, asking questions about people who work there.”
“What kind of questions?” Chief Bristol asked.
“He was trying to social engineer Willow into telling him about Elisa Rinaldi.”
“Elisa?” Bristol sounded baffled. “What the hell does Elisa have to do with this?”
“I don’t know, but I didn’t like it,” Nate said. “I think Elisa has problems of her own.”
“Yeah, well, don’t we all, Nate. What is it that you need from me?”
“Could you run his license plate for me?” Nate asked. “Just to be safe?”
Chief Bristol was silent for too long. “On what grounds?” he finally asked. “You want me to use police resources just because you don’t like another man showing interest in a girl you like?”
“It’s not like that,” Nate said. “I think he’s stalking her. I really think she’s in danger.”
“Yeah, well. That’s the water we’re all swimming in these days, Nate. I am being pulled in every goddamn direction right now, and I can’t indulge your random curiosity without good cause. Be reasonable.”
“Never mind, Chief,” he said. “I have FBI contacts who can access the DMV database for me, no problem. I just contacted you first as a courtesy because I thought you’d prefer to be in the loop. But if it’s too much trouble, I’ll just go through my other channels. Please, don’t worry about it.”
“Now just you wait a goddamn minute,” Chief Bristol said gruffly. “I don’t want you running around doing any of your damn vigilante bullshit in my town. I get enough of that with those Trasks boys. They’re going to put me in an early grave.”
“I hope not, Chief. In any case, sorry I bothered you. Just forget I called.”
“Oh, stop jerking me around,” Chief Bristol snapped. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll see what I can do.”
Nate wandered across the street, monitoring the strangers inside the Bakery Café with his peripheral vision as he sipped his coffee. The first guy was on his phone, hunched down over his sandwich. Nate would have given a great deal to hear what he was saying. A bug at their table like one of Kimball’s would have been perfect.
But he couldn’t lurk out there forever, so he went back toward his car to finish his coffee. The three men came out of the Bakery Café after a few minutes, the well-dressed man still yapping on his phone. They got into the Audi, and drove away.
He wanted to follow them. Intensely. But if he used his bugged, tagged car, Kimball would be able to follow every fucking move he made. Of course, Kimball had no stake in this, but Elisa had enough difficulties without him drawing Kimball’s toxic attention to her.
He had to go dark before he could do anything at all. That took some doing.
He pried the phone case of his hacked smartphone open and took out the battery. Then he headed out to the rental car place and parked there, waiting for it to open. Brad, the clerk, finally stumbled in and opened the place up. With some friendly bullying, he managed to rent a Jeep. It was an unfortunate, eye-catching cobalt blue, but he was lucky to get anything at all with a four-wheel-drive without getting a reservation in advance. It wasn’t bugged or microchipped, and that was about all that could be said for it.
He drove back to Elisa’s apartment. Just as he was parking, the chief called him back. “Yeah?” he answered. “Chief Bristol? What have you got?”
“Nothing you’re going to like,” the chief said. “It doesn’t fit the story you’re telling yourself.”
“Just give it to me, please.”
“If you’re hoping he’s a hardened criminal mastermind, you’ll be very disappointed. He’s just a blood-sucking lawyer from San Francisco. A big shot district attorney, no less. There’s chatter about an upcoming gubernatorial race. He’s exactly the kind of well-heeled tourist that Shaw’s Crossing needs, so let’s not scare him away before he spends some money here, you hear me? Are you reassured? Tell me you are.”
“His name?” Nate insisted.
He could hear Bristol sigh on the other line. “Goddamn it, Nate—”
“Please, Chief. Just his name. I swear, I won’t hurt the guy.” He hesitated. “Not if he doesn’t try to hurt me first.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that? Like a terrier with a bone.”
“Yes, sir, absolutely. The name?”
Another sharp sigh. “If you make me regret this, I swear to God, I will tear you to pieces,” he warned. “His name is Gilbert Clemens.”
“Okay. Thanks. Later, Chief.”
“Be good, Nate.”
“Always,” he promised, closing the call. He pulled out his as-yet uncomprom
ised virgin smartphone, and checked out the name online.
There were images of Gilbert Clemens all over the internet. The guy was relatively photogenic, and he got around. Parties, concerts, awards ceremonies, ribbon-cuttings. Then a headline caught his eye. After Months, Still No Break In Abduction of DA Gilbert Clemens’ Wife.
The fuck? Abduction? Wife? He asked the internet about ‘Gilbert Clemens’ wife,’ and stared at the resulting page full of images, his mouth open.
It was Elisa.
Captions identified her as Louisa Roarke, daughter of famous, reclusive and quirky tech genius billionaire Terrence Roarke, who had died two years before. She’d been married to Clemens for almost four years now. There were many photos of their lavish wedding online, attended by business titans and film stars.
Elisa looked utterly different in the photographs. Still beautiful, but shiny, like a new penny. Her hair was ash blonde and straightened, her face carefully made up, her sexily bold, thick eyebrows were plucked to a narrow, delicate line, her lips were lined and painted a gleaming pink. She wore designer clothes. Extremely high heels.
She looked like a trophy wife. Smiling, but brittle. Tense. Trapped.
Abducted? The fuck?
A woman did not fake her own abduction from a life of high-profile luxury unless something seriously shitty had happened.
Nate buzzed the apartment. He got no answer, but the entryway door was unlocked. Someone must have let it fall to rest, but hadn’t pulled it to.
It definitely had not been Nate. He couldn’t leave a door unlocked if he wanted to. He ran upstairs and knocked on the door.
“Hey, Elisa?” he called. “I have info for you.” He paused, listening through the door. “Someone is looking for you ,” he went on. “Guy by the name of Gilbert Clemens is running around out there, asking questions. Does that name ring a bell?”
Still nothing. If she were in there, her husband’s name would have gotten a rise out of her for sure. He reached out, and gingerly tested the knob.
The door opened—and his stomach dropped.
The place had been torn apart. The paintings were torn down and scattered over the floor. The junk drawer in the kitchen had been dumped out, the kitchen drawers upended, the stuff on the counter had been swept off onto the floor, the cupboards and pantry yanked open, their contents pulled out. Not that there had been much in them. Didn’t look like Elisa cooked in here. She’d eaten at the café.
In the bathroom, the contents of the medicine cabinet lay in the sink. In the bedroom, every drawer was yanked out. A suitcase was open, its contents dragged out and strewn around the room. Art supplies. A few articles of clothing.
Someone had tossed the place. But had she been here when they did?
Fuck. He should never have left to rent that car. He should have stayed to cover her. Called for backup. Taken all of it more seriously, more urgently. Fuck.
Back in the kitchen, he saw an envelope on the floor, and a crumpled letter. He picked it up. Someone had broken the seal on the envelope, read it, and tossed it.
Demi,
I’m so sorry I had to go with no explanation. I had no choice. Being your friend was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I’ll treasure the memory forever. Please tell everyone goodbye for me.
It was beautiful. Love you always.
Elisa
She might still have that burner in her pocket. He’d put traces on the phones, after what had happed to the Trasks and their girlfriends.
He could log into it on his laptop and see if she’d caught a bus out of town. Or if she’d been dragged away by Clemens.
Either way, he had to catch her. Fast.
10
Shit. The bus was stopping again. This time at a little nowhere town called Baird’s Corner. Elisa pressed her hands to her eyes, swallowing over the ache in her throat as some people got off and others got on. It had started to rain. Or snow. The sky couldn’t seem to decide which.
While on the run, she could only sleep in a moving bus. Hotel rooms felt like death traps. Buses were better, until they stopped moving. Then her eyes popped open like an electrical wire was being held to her body.
“Elisa.”
The low voice made her jerk violently in her seat. She looked to see Nate standing there in the aisle, still in his gray suit and overcoat. His eyes blazed with intensity.
“Nate! What the hell are you doing here?”
“Come with me,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Quick.”
She shrank back. “No, Nate,” she said. “Back off. Please. Go home.”
“Please.” His dark eyes were full of intensity. “You’re Louisa Roarke, and you’re running from your husband, Gil Clemens. Running for your life. Am I right?”
She gazed at him, openmouthed. “How…but…”
“I saw him in Shaw’s Crossing this morning. He tossed your apartment. I was afraid that he’d already taken you. He was looking for something in there. I saw him asking Willow at the Bakery Café who did the chalk drawings. He’s on to you. And he’s right behind you.”
“Oh God,” she whispered. “How…?”
“You won’t stay ahead of him on this bus,” he went on. “It goes forty miles an hour at best on this road, and there’s freezing rain today. He’ll be on you before you get two more stops. Get off with me and let me help you stay ahead of that bastard.” He paused. “I hated him on sight, by the way. Even before I knew he was a problem for you. I could tell he was a dick.”
“Um, that’s gratifying,” she said, distracted. “Good instincts. Better than mine.” Her mind raced. Nate knew. So there was no way to protect him anymore. Shit.
“Come now,” he urged. “Or you won’t make it through the day.”
Well, hell. She’d tried to keep him out of it, but he’d made his own decision. Now it was time to make hers, and the decision was made before she even thought about it. She wanted to live. Urgently. Passionately.
She got up and followed him. Because he was right. Getting help was now her only chance.
“Do you have a bag?” he asked.
“Just what I’m carrying.” She followed him down the steps. “I saw him out of my apartment window, so I left my suitcase there. It would have slowed me down.”
She’d never seen the car he led her to, a bright blue Jeep. She got into it, hugging her computer bag with arms that trembled.
“So,” he said finally. “Louisa? Elisa? What do I call you now?”
“Stick with Elisa,” she said. “I’m used to it. I like the person I’ve been with this name. I don’t want to be Louisa ever again.”
“So where do you—fuck. Get down!”
He pushed her head down over the center console. “What the hell?” she asked.
“Clemens. His black Audi. He’s here, with two of his guys. He must have had the same thought I did, after seeing your note to Demi. That you’d try to catch a bus.”
She lurched back against the seat as he accelerated out of the parking lot. “What’s he doing now?”
“Parking his car. He’ll check the passengers, and talk to the driver. Tell me something, Elisa. Did that guy ever hurt you? Physically hurt you?”
“With his own hands, no,” she said. “But he did hire someone to kill me. If that counts.”
He hissed through his teeth. “Yeah, that fucking counts. I’ll go back and end this right now. If I go for the goons first, I might be able to take them all down.”
“No!” she burst out. “Don’t attack him!”
Nate gave her a cautious look. “Why?” he asked, after a moment’s pause. His voice was harder now. “Are you still in love with this guy?”
“Oh, God, no. He’s a devil straight out of hell. But he’s got those two guys, and I’m sure they’re armed, so that’s three against one. And he has my little brother. If you hurt Gil, my brother Josh dies. So please. Don’t touch him.”
“Fuck.” Nate pulled out onto the road, picking up speed. �
�Fuck.”
“Can I sit up yet?”
“No. Stay down until we’re farther away.”
Elisa sank down to the floor, curling her legs up and resting her arms on the car seat. They drove for what felt like forever, but was probably less than a half hour. She stared at the side of his leg, and his big hand on the gearshift, inches from her eyes. They slowed down as the terrain beneath the car wheels changed. A bumper road. Then gravel, with a steep grade. Off-road bouncing—and the car stopped.
She gave him a questioning look. He answered with a nod. “You can get up.”
She clambered back up onto the seat and looked around at a sea of green. He’d driven off the highway and out onto a logging road.
“Relax,” he said. “No one can see us here unless they’re watching via satellite.”
Nate got out of the car and hiked over to a break in the trees. He stood looking out over the valley below, his arms folded over his chest. His back radiated tension.
Elisa got out and just stood there for a while. She had to hold onto the Jeep for balance. The cold was sweet, bracing. It smelled like snow.
Everything seemed so sharp and distinct, after her slow, lumbering bus to nowhere. She walked over to stand next to Nate. Her legs felt loose. Unsteady.
Nate turned to her, his eyes fierce. “What happens if he finds you?”
“I die,” she said simply. “He’s tried before. He’s killed before.”
“You should have told us a long time ago,” Nate said. “All of it.”
Elisa shook her head. “No. I should never have stayed in Shaw’s Crossing in the first place. It was sloppy and stupid. Now I’ve put you all in danger.”
Heedless: The Hellbound Brotherhood Book Four Page 9