“Cole Blackwell. As for the dog, he’s brown, four paws, male, and he has a long tail.”
“You’re funny.” Tony stopped mid step. “I know that name. Blackwell, Blackwell ….”
“Deepwater Energy.” Wes tossed him a hint.
“That’s him. What do an oil man, a dog, and a fiery-furnace dude have in common?”
“Meshach accosted Cole’s twenty-two-year-old daughter in her home. Cole received in the mail one of the cards I sent you pictures of. His daughter, Bethany, found the other one in her purse two days after her attacker wrapped her in duct tape and abandoned her on the kitchen floor. They found the dog on the front porch of her house, wearing a collar and leash, the same morning Bethany’s boyfriend rescued her.”
“I can guess which card she received. The one with I’m watching you.” Tony’s head bobbed. “We’re looking for a bad dude. The police have any leads we can chase?”
“Nothing Cole’s aware of. That’s something we need to do this morning. Check with the Lubbock Police Department.”
“She at Tech?”
“Correct, but I don’t think she’s the intended target. He had her, but he walked away.”
“One of the many uses for duct tape. To think big-gov is trying to ban guns.”
“That’s an off-the-wall comparison.”
Tony shrugged. “Yeah, well, think about it. Is the tape in the hands of a crazy less at fault than the gun in the hands of a crazy? You think he’s after Cole?”
Wes pushed the down button at the elevators. “That’s my guess.”
Tony leaned against the jamb. “I think social media is the key. Have you been online and seen Meshach’s response to Lamech’s post?”
Wes nodded. “I have.”
“They’re up to something. Those two cats are using the site to communicate. I can feel it in my bones. We just have to figure out what language they’re speaking. Another thought. Why would two people go after a woman in Lubbock, Texas? What’s she into? This is bigger than some college kid. A somebody-Sullivan is following the other two and some broad named Monique who posted baloney about global warming forty-five minutes ago is following Meshach.”
Wes smiled at him and patted his own chest. “T’was I.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope.”
“Good idea. Though, I don’t know what good it will do us. They’re not going to communicate with her. Excuse me, with you.”
Tony was right, but that wasn’t Monique’s intent, not his intent. “Right now, Lamech or Lamesh, however it’s pronounced, and Meshach are linked by their posts. Sullivan is following both, but they’re not following him. ‘The guilty flees when no man pursues.’ If the three of them follow Monique, say, to keep tabs on her, maybe that will tie in Sullivan. I don’t know. We have to try something.”
The elevator bell dinged and the doors opened.
Tony entered and propped himself in the corner of the car. “I think we’re going to need some help. I have someone in mind, a wordsmith who does crosswords in minutes. Smart as a whip. Might help us break their code, if that’s what it is.”
“Hire him. Get him here.”
“I took liberties and already did. Hope you don’t mind? She, Jessica Wahl, lives in Boulder. She’s meeting us for breakfast.”
4
Wes sipped his coffee and scanned the newspaper. Denver had the usual big city aches and pains. Murder, breaking and entering, assaults, robberies and domestic violence took up a full page. One item caused him to wonder about the sanity of at least half of Colorado’s electorate. Marijuana had been legalized, opening myriad problems. Not the least of which: possession was still a federal offense.
He put aside the paper. Tony had his cell phone cradled in his laced fingers, tapping and swiping with both thumbs. Twiddling carried to the nth degree.
“Tony, what’s got your attention?”
“Monique.”
“Monique? My Monique?”
“Yep. I’m following you, sweetie. Just set up my phone to get alerts. I’ve never been one for reading the mundane ramblings of some narcissists, so I didn’t do it before. Now, I’ll get their comments. Meshach’s, Lamech’s, all of them, as they post.” He let go of the phone with one hand and took a sip of orange juice. “You want me to fix yours?”
“No, thanks. I’ll let you handle the social media monitoring duties from here on. My phone does enough pinging and vibrating as it is. Anything else of interest?”
“Nope.” Tony glanced around the room then went back to his phone. “Jessica should have been here by now. Traffic might have held her up.”
“There’s time.”
A waitress stopped with the coffeepot and refilled Wes’s cup. “Are we eating today?”
“We are. We’ll be a few minutes. Still waiting on one more,” Wes said.
“More juice?” she addressed Tony.
“I’m good.” His attention remained focused on the phone.
Wes wondered about introverted people like Tony. The man didn’t mean to be rude or appear rude. He just didn’t know any better. If he thought to be polite and say no, thank you and didn’t, then yes, he was at fault. The thought never registered. He missed a measure of empathy somewhere in his makeup. Only technology kept his attention longer than thirty seconds.
Tony glanced over Wes’s head. “Ah, you’re here.”
Wes pushed back and stood before turning to greet the woman. He had a pink hoodie and thick, black, framed glasses in mind.
One glance into her striking blue eyes roiled feelings in the pit of his stomach. A sense of guilt that a married man with any values or conscience felt when his wandering eyes mixed with amorous thoughts. A sense of betrayal, loss and heartbreak all rolled into one, and all because of one woman—his late wife, Teri.
He thought time healed all.
“I’m Wes Hansen.” He held out his hand.
She grasped his hand. “I’m Jessica Wahl. Nice to meet you, Wes.”
Shoulder-length dark hair framed sharp features, a slightly crooked nose, high cheekbones, creamy-clear complexion and a permanent tan. She stood five-eight, maybe five-nine, with a one-hundred-thirty-pound runner’s build. He guessed her age at forty, maybe thirty-nine, two years his junior.
Her eyes were…alluring.
He pulled out a chair for her.
“Hi, Tony.” She unzipped her red jacket, revealing a yellow top, let it slide off her shoulders, and draped it over the back of the chair.
Tony scooted back his chair and stood. “Good to see you again, Jessica. Hope you haven’t eaten. We’re starved.” He patted her on the shoulder and headed for the buffet line.
“I have not. So you’ve been waiting on me. Sorry I’m late. The traffic is terrible. I should have left the house earlier. I know better.”
“No worries. Please, after you, unless you’d like to order something from the menu. I’ll get the waitress.”
“The buffet is fine. Thanks.”
Wes held out his hand, open-armed, for her to lead the way.
They dished their plates and returned to the table. Wes had his usual eggs, sausage, and toast. Tony chose the entire buffet, one of everything, a plateful. Jessica used a small plate for a modest helping of cantaloupe, pineapple, and one boiled egg. The melon was out of season, but looked inviting.
She bowed her head for a three-count before picking up her fork.
“Jessica,” Wes said. “Tony told you about our project?”
“He mentioned you’re a private investigator and had a code to break, but he didn’t elaborate.”
“Thought I’d leave the specifics up to you,” Tony said.
Wes cut and forked a bite of egg. “If you can call it a code. We think the man we’re looking for is communicating with others, his cohorts or his boss, via social media posts. We’re not sure. For now, our only leads are two cryptic messages, a dog, and two business cards.”
“He’s a ghost,” Tony said. �
��We’re real ghost busters.”
Jessica looked between them and smiled. “That’s different. Sounds intriguing.”
“You active on social media, Jess?” Tony talked around a bite, staring at his phone.
“No. My life isn’t that interesting. I like my privacy.”
“Speaking of privacy. Our employer asked that we keep his in mind at all times.” Wes’s phone vibrated. A text. He unlocked it. starbucks 270 & quebec near bass pro 10am if u can. The phone displayed 9:15 above the message. What timing.
The text was either the answer to a long-recited prayer, or…he’d have to make the appointment to find out. He replied with c u soon.
“I have to leave you two for a bit.”
Tony laid his fork and phone next to his plate. “Something wrong? You look like someone stole your dog.”
“No, I’m fine. I won’t be long. Don’t wait on me for lunch when the time comes. Jessica, I’m sorry for the interruption, but I have to take care of this.”
She stood when Wes did. “I’d like to help with your investigation. Can I leave you a number, references, a resume? Though I don’t know what good my CV would do in this line of work.”
He pocketed his phone. “We need another set of eyes on this one. Tony thinks you’re the one for the job, and I agree. Are you free to travel?”
“I’m single. No ties. I’m willing to go anywhere you need me to. I don’t have a passport.”
“I don’t think we’ll need passports.” He slipped Tony the keycard to the room. “Set up shop in my suite. Give Jessica anything she needs, including information, all of it. Our employer and the reason we’ve been hired. Don’t hold back. She’s on the team. Then start looking. Our guy is in his twenties, early thirties maybe. Look for off-the-wall stuff, like tree sit-ins or occupy protests, that kind of thing. Check with the Lubbock PD. I think you’ll get a cold shoulder, but see if they’ve uncovered any clues they might be willing to share. Run down the canine link. Keep me posted if anything turns up.”
He headed for his pickup. All of a sudden Jessica and his late wife weren’t the only females distracting him.
5
Wes ordered a tall vanilla latte from the skinny barista kid behind the counter and took a seat in a chair at the first small table, closest to the entrance. The last person in line at the counter didn’t have to worry about being last for long, as a revolving door of customers entered to purchase their morning hit of overpriced caffeine. Every time the door opened, the cool Colorado air rushed in and carried his way a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg from the condiment bar.
Glass walls gave patrons a view of the street and the entrance to an extensive strip mall. Jessica Wahl had struck him in a way he’d not been hit since his wife walked into his life. All his feelings were the result of one glance into her blue eyes. He didn’t know her from Eve. What was he thinking?
He’d dated a couple of times in the years after Teri’s passing. Nice ladies, but his heart wasn’t in it. His lack of feelings for them wasn’t anymore their fault than the emotions he felt in Jess’s presence were hers.
He’d gone on a blind date one time, which was something he’d never done. A well-intentioned friend had arranged the evening. The moment he shook her hand, he knew her designs far exceeded his expectations for the outing. A week later, again, he had to do something he’d never done before: tell her to get lost. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.
So what was Jessica’s story? Widowed? Divorced? So crazy no one would have her? The latter was not readily apparent. What were the odds she’d never been married and if not, why?
She’d bowed her head before she ate. Seemed as though he was seeing more and more of that these days.
He sipped his coffee and scanned the lot for his daughter. Every passing car drew his attention. Lisa’s text read ten o’clock. He had twenty minutes to wait, but he didn’t know what for. The last time he’d seen her she’d been eighteen. The parting wasn’t good. Time could heal wounds or allow them to fester. His pain had done neither. The ache in his heart was more like a deep cavity in a tooth that wouldn’t hurt until he had sweet thoughts about her.
A display case next to him held some pricey items. Coffee beans at $40 a bag and cups at $15. Plastic cups and small bags too. One stainless espresso machine priced to sell at $1,200. They’d lost their minds. He wondered how many of those moved off the shelf.
Like the green square in an automatic camera picked out and focused on different faces and objects in the same frame, his daughter’s face emerged from between the bottom shelf and green bags of coffee. She smiled, held up her hand in front of her face, and waved.
He wondered how he’d missed her as he crossed the shop to her table. He would recognize his own child.
“Hi,” she said.
He was numb. Dumbstruck. Pregnant?
“Sorry to startle you, Dad.”
“Do I look startled? I’m, I don’t know, elated.” Five years ago, she looked like she’d fallen face first into a fishing tackle box. The studs and piercings in her ears, eyebrows, and nose were gone, and her natural brown hair had replaced the gothic black. Not startled but thankful. “I’m sorry, Lisa, but, but, I don’t…”
“It’s OK. I didn’t mean to be sneaky. I went to the restroom. When I came out, you were already seated. Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind. I watched you through the shelves. Gave me time to think about how to introduce myself. I’ve been doing that for weeks, since our first correspondence, thinking about seeing you and what I’d say. I was as lost for words as you look to be now.”
“You were on my mind, but I watched for you outside. You’re so, so—”
“Different?”
She was different. Unexpectedly. Giving her a hug and a kiss crossed his mind, but given their past and the years gone, he thought he’d wait. “You look great, honey. I-I’m sorry, but I don’t know where to begin.”
“Neither do I.” She indicated the chair across the table from her with a nod. “Maybe sitting would be a good start.”
He felt self-conscious and didn’t know why. No one was watching the exchange, and whose business was it anyway? He pulled out the chair and sat. Her eyes were bright, like those of the little girl he remembered before their lives fell apart. She’d gained weight, as expected, but not too much. She looked happy, radiant. There was something special about the aura of a woman with child.
“Dad, you’re staring.”
“I can’t help myself.” He held his gaze and smiled.
She closed the laptop, clasped her hands on top of the computer, twirled the simple silver wedding band with her thumb and forefinger and searched his face. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
“Lisa, we don’t have to go back there.”
“I do. For a minute, yes I do. I—”
“Lisa—”
“Stop. Please stop.” It wasn’t a plea.
Her green eyes didn’t waver. She was her own person, a woman with the same strong will she’d always possessed. If she had something to say, then he would listen.
She must have sensed something in his resignation. She leaned forward. “I know you weren’t responsible for Mom’s death. She was. Though, looking back now, looking at my own problems controlling my hormones and depression, honestly, I’m not sure she was in control of herself. And it’s not your fault I dove off the deep end. I said some terrible things. I missed Mom. It’s taken me a long time to learn to live without her…and to find myself again.”
He’d braced for the worst and hardened his emotions, but now he wasn’t sure if he could talk. He reached for her hand, took it, and squeezed. She squeezed back. Tears crept down her cheeks.
“You’re pregnant.”
“I am, Grandpa.” She smiled and wiped her cheeks with her fingers.
“That, my dear, and seeing you again so happy, makes my day. Your mom would have been proud of you. I’ll bet Josh is proud.” He immediately knew he’d made a mistake.
Her smi
le turned into pursed lips and a set jaw. She squinted at him, and her gaze left his face for the ceiling. “We haven’t talked about my husband. Or if I’m even married.”
“You’re wearing a ring, and you’re pregnant. A good assumption on my part.”
“I am, and I am, but how did you know his name?” A long breath escaped her lips. “You’ve been snooping.”
“Snooping is what I do for a living.”
“On me?”
“God forbid, but eighteen years from now, when the child you’re carrying is in high school and should turn his or her back on you and walk away for five years, you will do anything within your power to make sure that child is safe. It’s called love, not control, like I mentioned to you five years ago.”
She shook her head and put her hands on her stomach. “I don’t know how to feel about you checking up on me. I suppose I should feel good, but I don’t.”
He usually kept a better handle on his tongue. He’d looked for general information about her, and nothing he’d done was illegal, even though, through Tony, he had the means to pry as deeply as he wanted. Some things a father neither wanted nor needed to know about his daughter. She’d walked away and he’d let her go—physically, not mentally or emotionally. Some of her wounds had healed, but not all. “Have you decided on a name?”
She sat up and glanced at her watch. “Not yet. We have a list, but haven’t picked one.”
Changing the subject wasn’t working too well. “Boy or girl?”
“Josh thinks the surprise is part of the fun. One of those since-the-beginning-of-time mysteries a man and a woman shouldn’t cheat themselves out of. I don’t care either way, but I went with him on it. We’ll wait and see.” Her voice remained flat, matter-of-fact.
“Run some names by me.”
She let out another long breath he recognized as frustration. Something she, as a teenager, would readily express when he didn’t understand. “For a boy, Levi, Chance, Chase, Yancey, Colt, or Colton. For a girl: Addison, Chance again, Rilee, with two Es and Kylee with two.”
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