by Dani Pettrey
“Yeah, but he didn’t bring his phone.”
Kirra frowned. “Why not?” Who didn’t carry their cell with them?
“Sam didn’t want to be distracted while at a protest or rally. Part of his creed.”
Kirra fought the urge to question said creed, but it was vital they stay on topic.
Emma stood and moved for the snack table. “If you want to talk to Sam, you’ll have to head up there.”
Seward was an eight-hour drive—in good weather. If they were following the wrong trail, it would cost them valuable time, but they had no other leads.
11
“Well, that gives us a place to start,” Kirra said, stepping from the room, thankfully looking more relaxed than when they’d entered.
“Yeah. Now we just need to interview Professor Daniels and we can go.”
Kirra stopped dead in her tracks. “Professor Daniels?”
“Yeah.” What was wrong? Why had all the color drained from Kirra’s beautiful face? And why did she look as if she was getting ready to pass out again? “Ashley said he was Meg’s other professor and indicated the two didn’t get along. I think it would be incomplete investigation-wise to leave campus without speaking with him.”
“Ashley said it’d be a waste of our time. We should head to Seward.” She glanced at her watch. “If we leave now we can make it by midevening.”
“The rally is sure to be dispersed by the time we get there. Arriving in the morning is a better plan.”
“Morning? You don’t plan on staying here tonight?”
“On campus. No. But with a rally in town, Seward lodging is bound to be booked up. I say we head up that way and stop somewhere around Whittier, then drive the last hour and a half in the morning.”
“Fine. Let’s get going.” She headed for the main door leading out of the student union.
Reef kept stride with her. “Okay, so we talk with Professor Daniels and then . . .”
Kirra stopped and turned to face him. “I’m telling you he’s a dead end.”
“How can you be certain?” Why so much resistance?
“Because he has nothing to do with Meg’s new crowd.”
“How can you be certain?”
Her gaze darted around the open space. “Because he’s not into the eco scene.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you know him?” Had he been one of her professors?
Was that why she didn’t want to visit him?
“Yes.” She exhaled. “Which is why I can tell you without hesitation that he has no information to offer in the way of Meg’s disappearance.”
“That seems like a huge assumption.”
“Why are you so insistent on talking to him?”
“I just think to be thorough we should interview everyone.”
“Really? You want to interview everyone on campus?”
“Of course not.” Why was she being so obstinate? “However, Meg’s professors and her recently dumped ex-boyfriend seems like a reasonable place to start.”
She adjusted her scarf, the burgundy floral print bringing out the bright blue of her eyes, and then exhaled. “You’re right.”
“I am?”
She turned, heading back across the foyer from the direction they’d come. “We should talk to her ex-boyfriend.”
“And Professor Daniels?” he asked, catching up to her.
“I think Ashley said his name was Garret.”
“No. William. William Daniels.”
She shivered at the mention of his name but kept walking. “I meant the ex-boyfriend.”
“Oh. How should we go about finding him?”
“Let’s hit the gym.”
Reef frowned. “Why the gym?”
“Ashley said he spends most of his time lifting weights. Which doesn’t surprise me at all, because Meg always goes for the jocks.” She looked him up and down. “The ones like you, at least.”
Reef arched a brow. “Ones like me?”
“You know. Athletic, but not your traditional jock. Meg likes her men a little south of respectable.”
“Excuse me?” He laughed in shock. Had she really just said that?
“What?” She shrugged. “Oh, come on, you really think you fit in the traditional jock category?”
“No.”
“Then why are you getting all huffy?”
“It’s the south of respectable that has me huffy.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it as an insult.”
How else did she mean it? And, more importantly, what did that say about how Kirra liked her men?
Kirra led the way into the campus gym. She prayed talking with the ex-boyfriend would eat up enough time that William would be off campus before Reef insisted they locate him.
A sculpted guy with surfer blond hair skipped to her side. “Haven’t I seen you around here before?”
Really? Was that the best he had? “I’m looking for Garret Bale.”
“Bummer for me.”
“Do you know him?”
“Yeah. He’s over on the bench press.” He kept pace with her, smiling. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in a detour? You know . . .”
“I’m good, thanks.” She beelined for Garret, feeling Reef close on her heels. “Garret Bale?”
The brown-haired, brown-eyed guy bench pressing one-fifty answered. “Yeah?” He glanced over, appraised her, and smiled.
Really, Meg, what do you see in these men? Reef excluded. She shook her head. Never thought she’d think that. She extended her hand to Garret. “Hi.”
He lifted the weights, setting them back on the bar, and pulled to a seated position. “Hi, yourself.”
“I need to speak to you about Meg.”
“Oh, please tell me she didn’t send some friend of hers to try and get me back.” He laughed, and the dudes nearest him followed suit.
Kirra’s jaw tightened. Time to cut to the chase. “She’s missing.”
“Sure she is.” He laughed.
“I’m not joking.”
His smug expression faded. “Well, if it’s true, I had nothing to do with it.”
“With what?”
“Anything. I haven’t even seen Meg since we split.”
“You’re telling me you’re both on campus and you’ve managed not to see each other since you broke up?”
“Okay, I saw her a couple days later with one of Sam’s crew.”
“Sam Matthews?”
“Yeah.”
“When you say one of his crew . . . ?”
“One of those environmental junkies. Ever since Meg started taking Professor Baxter’s classes she’s gotten strange.”
“Strange, how?”
“Hanging with those losers, carrying on about saving animals and the water and all that junk.”
So Meg was serious about the environment. Meg was never serious about much outside of shopping and guys. Hmm. Maybe this whole environmental thing hinged on a guy. That seemed more like the Meg she knew.
“I’ve heard Sam’s name mentioned twice now,” she continued. “And you said Meg was hanging with one of his crew. Do you know the guy’s name?”
“No. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t go to school here.”
“Then why’s he in Sam’s crew?”
“I think he was a friend of Sam’s or he used to go here.” Garret shrugged. “I don’t know. I just saw him hanging around campus now and then.”
“With Meg?”
“Maybe once or twice.”
“But after she broke up with you?”
“I never said she broke up with me. Is that what she told you?”
“No. She didn’t say anything.”
“Whatever. I know what happened. She can say whatever she likes. It doesn’t make it true.”
They were veering off course. “Can you tell me anything about this guy she was with? What he looked like? Ever hear his name?”
“He had some hippy name like Sky or Rain. Can’t believe Meg would actually waste time with a dud
e like that.”
“A dude like what?”
“A hippie wannabe.”
She asked a few more questions but had clearly tapped out Garret’s depth of knowledge on the subject.
“Thanks, Garret. If you think of anything else, would you give me a call?” She scribbled down her cell number on the back of her card—wondering if Professor Baxter had shown the one she gave him to William. Did he know she was on campus? If so, could she convince Reef they should leave before he found her? She could only imagine how he’d react.
Garret looked at the number and then up at her with a smile. “Cool.”
“I doubt that’s the last time you’ll be hearing from him.” Reef chuckled as they exited the gym.
“Glad his leering amused you.”
“I’m surprised you gave him your number, that’s all.”
“He may think of something helpful.” Whatever it took to find Meg—minus speaking with William. She wished she were stronger, but she didn’t have it in her. Her embarrassing lack of composure after Baxter recognized her made that humiliatingly evident.
She sincerely believed William had nothing to do with Meg’s disappearance. Not that he was innocent; he was absolutely a predator, just a predator of a different kind.
If Meg’s safety hinged on talking to William, Reef would have to do it, but it terrified her to imagine what William might say to Reef, or what Reef might choose to believe about her. As hard as it was for her to admit, for the first time in a long time someone’s opinion mattered, and to her great surprise, it was Reef’s.
“You’re heading where?” Jake said loudly. The commotion of the checkpoint whirred at a high pitch in the background.
“Seward,” Reef said.
“Why Seward?”
“Because Meg supposedly went to a rally there instead of heading for the Iditarod.”
“So you think she was taken from there?”
“Seems the logical course. Any sign of Frank?”
“He picked up his dogs’ rations at Takotna sometime during the night, and Warren Hunt spotted him about halfway up the switchbacks to Ophir, running off course through the valley.”
“He’s on a mission, and it no longer involves the race.”
“But he’s keeping near the path. We’re going to keep an eye on the other drop sites. Maybe we can catch him at one of those.”
“Maybe.”
“How’s Kirra?”
Reef turned his back to her. She sat at one of the cafeteria tables, looking piqued. “Something has her spooked.”
“A kidnapped cousin will do that.”
“No. I mean here on campus. I think it has to do something with a Professor Daniels. You should have seen the visible relief on her face when I went to talk with him and learned he was already off campus for the day.”
“Odd.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“You want me to ask Darcy to do a little digging?”
He looked back at Kirra. “No. I don’t think it has anything to do with Meg’s disappearance. I think this has something to do with Kirra’s past, and if that’s the case, her past is her business.”
“Speaking of pasts . . . we got two distinct histories on Frank.”
“Two?”
“Yeah. First we looked into the oil rig thing you mentioned on our last call.”
“And?”
“Looks like Frank moves around as a consultant a lot, so it’s hard to track his employment history, but we’re working on it.”
“Kirra and I are trying to figure out what working with oil rigs would have to do with the race. There aren’t any along the Iditarod trail except near Anchorage and, of course, off the coast of Nome.”
“Wait a minute,” Jake’s voice lowered. “When you spoke with Frank, didn’t he say something about Nome?”
“Yeah. He said if we didn’t find Meg before he reached Nome, they’d both be dead and a lot of others would be hurt.”
“You think these men could be holding Meg hostage in order to get Frank to do something to the rig off Nome’s coast? Maybe that’s why he’s racing so far in front of the group. He needs to reach the rig and do his job before the rest of the racers cross the finish line.”
“But why an oil rig?”
Reef ran a hand through his hair. “Oh man.”
“Why don’t I like the sound of that . . . ?”
“It’s just all day long we’ve been hearing about how tight Meg’s getting in with the environmental crowd.”
“You think maybe she got in too deep? Overheard something? Told someone what her dad did for a living?”
“Could be.” Now he was even more anxious to get to Seward and start questioning people at the rally. “Meg’s ex said she’d recently started hanging around a guy from the group who he’s pretty sure isn’t a student.”
“This guy have a name?”
“The ex wasn’t sure, but said it was something like Sky or Rain.”
“So not his real name?”
“Seriously doubt it. I can ask around when we get to Seward. See if he’s there or if anyone knows him.”
“Reef, I don’t know Meg at all, so please don’t take this as an insult, but I’ve got to ask.”
“Yeah?” He feared he knew exactly where Jake was going.
“You don’t think Meg could be in on this, do—”
The line went dead.
“Hello? Jake?”
Kirra stepped up behind him. “Problem?”
“The line went dead.”
“I’ve been watching the news.” She gestured to the giant flat screen mounted on the wall of the Quad. “They say a massive storm is moving into the interior.”
“You worried about your uncle?” He was alone, away from the shelters and the help of the race volunteers.
“A lone man and his dogs in a blizzard.” Kirra rubbed her arms.
“Frank’s tough.” He had to be to run the Iditarod, not to mention his four wins. “He’ll be fine.”
Kirra tried to smile. “I pray you’re right.”
“You ready to go?” he asked, and she gratefully nodded.
As uneasy as Kirra was on campus, there was no need to question her about the possibility Meg could be involved while still there. He hated to ask—period—but it needed to be done. Just in case. And, he needed to finish his conversation with Jake. Needed to find out what Frank’s second history involved.
12
How on earth was he going to broach the subject of whether Meg might be in on the kidnappers’ plan? And should he even bother? Did he really believe Meg could be a part of something like that? He wanted to think not, but during their short time together he’d quickly learned Meg was even wilder than he had been. Ready to push the limits, ready to experience the extreme, as she liked to put it.
But would she really put her father through this? Letting him think she’d been kidnapped if she’d gone willingly?
That seemed too far, but during their weekend trip to British Columbia, her dad had texted repeatedly trying to find out where she’d disappeared to, and it was only at Reef’s persistent prompting that she’d even bothered to respond to one of her dad’s texts. Even then she’d simply texted back that she was an adult and for him to chill. To be honest, he’d been even worse about keeping in contact with his own family, but something about her dad’s desperation had tugged at his heart.
Could the environmental cause really have gotten to Meg?
Did she believe her dad’s work—whatever it was—with the oil rigs was so awful that she was willing to go along with a ruse to get him to do . . . what? Compromise a rig?
“A penny for your thoughts,” Kirra said.
Reef smiled. “That’s a cute expression.” One he hadn’t heard since he was a child.
“My grandma Alice used to say it all the time.”
“I remember her. She used to always wear those fancy brooches to church.” She’d been the only Sunday school teache
r who actually seemed to enjoy his company.
Kirra stopped in her tracks. “Yeah, she did. How’d you remember?”
“I don’t know, I—”
“You’ve got some nerve coming back here.” A woman, tall and curvy, stormed toward them, her long brown hair flying in the wind across her shoulders.
Kirra’s heart sank. Tracey. How had she known? Had William learned of her presence and told Tracey?
Her stomach lurched. Is William here too? Her heart thudded in her chest—each thwack resonating in her ears—her pulse growing rapid, her breathing shallow. She glanced around. A few people milled at the edge of the parking lot, most distracted. But Reef . . .
Please, Lord. Not now. Not in front of him.
Hot shame and mortification sifted through her. She lifted a hand, willing Tracey to stop, but she kept coming. “I’m just looking for my cousin Meg, Tracey. She’s missing,” Kirra managed, praying the truth of her purpose here would keep Tracey at bay.
Tracey stopped just shy of her—it’d only been a couple years, but she’d changed. Her dark hair had auburn streaks and she’d put on a good ten pounds.
Tracey cocked her head with a snarky smile. “If she’s related to you, she’s probably off playing the trollop.” Her hot pink nails tapped along her silver heart belt buckle. “I’m sure it runs in the family.” She turned to Reef, her gaze raking over him. “Who are you?”
Reef looked at Kirra, confused. “I’m Kirra’s friend.”
Tracey planted her hands on her ample hips. “Then, you’d better be careful. She tends to stab friends in the back.”
Anger churned in Kirra’s throat. Injustice. Lies. “That’s not what happened.” It had been completely the other way around. “It was William! He—”
“Ah, I see you’re still sticking with that pathetic lie?”
“Your boyfriend is the liar.” And the one responsible.
Tracey held up her hand—the lowering sun glinting off the pear-shaped stone on her ring finger. “My husband.”
She’d actually married the man?
“Now.” Tracey squared her shoulders, her faux-fur coat grazing her artificial tanned cheeks imbued with anger’s flush. “I suggest you get out of here.”
She would like nothing better than to leave, but Tracey’s stab at intimidation was only raising Kirra’s ire. Her betrayal, William’s lies, the injustice of it all . . . Strength filled her. A confidence she hadn’t felt in two years. “Or what?”