But the Silverado was gone. Nowhere in sight.
Krista stared at R.J. “What the hell was that?”
He ignored her.
“R.J.?”
He kept going, easing off the gas only a little. She glanced down the side streets as they passed, but no sign of the white truck. She loosened her grip on the door as he finally slowed down. A gas station came into view. He pulled into the lot and swung into a parking space. And suddenly she got it.
“Holy crap. You put a tracker on his truck, didn’t you?”
He ignored her and picked up his phone.
“R.J.?”
“Guilty.”
“You let him spot you and then you let him ditch the tail.”
“Yep.” He pulled the keys from the ignition and dropped them into her lap. “She’s all yours.”
He shoved open his door and went around the front. Krista scooted over the console and slid into the driver’s seat. It felt warm from his body heat.
R.J. got in the passenger’s side and took a swig of water as Krista started up the truck with a throaty growl. Damn, she missed the sound of a good engine. She’d gotten used to the asthmatic sputter of her little Impala. R.J. tapped at his phone screen, and she watched with admiration as he opened an app she recognized. He held up his phone to show the blinking green dot that symbolized the pickup moving south on Harbor Boulevard. A few seconds later the dot slowed and turned right, heading west on a street that dead-ended at the Pacific Coast Highway.
R.J. smiled. “Now let’s see where he’s really going.”
#
It was a beautiful day for a drive up the PCH. Krista rolled the windows down and rested her hand on the wheel of R.J.’s nice new truck as they made their way up the coast. R.J. kept his phone in his lap, keeping an eye on the vehicle several miles ahead of them.
“Where do you think he’s going?” she asked him.
“My guess is Malibu. Any farther and he would have taken the 405.”
“No way he’d lead us right to her.”
“He thinks he ditched us,” R.J. pointed out. “Which means he could be leading us straight to her door.”
“That would be too easy. And directly contrary to the crappy run of luck I’ve been having with this case.”
“Maybe I’m a good luck charm.” R.J. slid a glance at her. “Or maybe I’m just better than you. You ever consider that?”
He was better.
Not that Krista wasn’t good at her job—she absolutely was. But R.J. had years more experience. Plus, he seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to predicting what people would do, which made him not just good but scary-good.
No sense in feeding his ego, though.
“So, you ever plan to tell me this theory you got going?” he asked.
She glanced at him. With his muscular arm resting on the door and his hair blowing in the wind he looked… delectable.
He smiled slyly as if he’d read her thoughts.
“What theory’s that?” she asked.
“You sure as hell better have a theory or I’m wasting my time and your money.”
“Scarlet thinks—”
“I want to know what you think.”
She took a moment to choose her words. “This shooting went down in a warehouse neighborhood. You were just there last night. I was there, too, earlier this morning. I stood in the exact place where the traffic stop happened, and I’m almost positive Riley witnessed something.”
“Almost?”
“I’d give it nine to one odds. And then there’s how she just dropped off the radar right afterwards—sold her car, quit her job, moved away without a trace.”
“Without a trace you’ve been able to find,” he said.
“Okay, but I’ve been looking. And you’re not the only one who knows the tactics. I do, too. This girl didn’t just wander off. She covered her tracks.”
“According to Johnny Lightning, that’s her boyfriend’s doing.”
“Okay, fine. The question is why’d she do that? It doesn’t just happen. It takes effort. I think she saw something that freaked her out, such as someone fleeing the scene of a shooting.”
“How do you know she knew it was a shooting? It all happened inside the warehouse.”
“Yeah, but the patrol cop heard the shots. That’s why she abandoned the traffic stop and came running. So we have to assume Riley heard them, too. And Riley could have learned more about what happened later on the news and realized the shooting victim was L.A.P.D. And then there was this big investigation, which was all over the media, which completely ups the stakes.”
“You’re saying she’s a witness who went into hiding.”
“Exactly. I think she saw someone fleeing the scene of a cop shooting. And I think she skipped town because she didn’t want to get involved.”
“You believe someone threatened her?”
Krista paused. This was the sticking point. “Maybe.” She glanced at R.J. “But who? And how? I mean, who would know she was even there? Her name was just a mention in a case file two boxes deep.”
“She was alone in the car when she got pulled over?”
“According to the report, yeah.”
They rode in silence for a while, the ocean breeze whipping through the truck cab. R.J. glanced at his phone. Their target was still moving up the coast.
“Why are you helping me with this?”
He looked at her. “You’re paying me.”
“You don’t need the money. And anyway, you could make twice as much working for Drake Walker or one of your other rich lawyer clients.”
He smiled. “You want me to be honest?”
“Yes.”
“I like working with you. It’s the only time you really let your guard down around me.”
She focused her attention on the road. Her stomach fluttered with nerves, because he was right. When they were alone together, she felt uneasy unless they had work to focus on, and sometimes even then.
They’d had a few dates, all of which had been interrupted by work. And each time, Krista had felt a strange mix of disappointment and relief.
But mostly disappointment. Despite knowing him for years now, she knew very little about his personal life other than the fact he’d grown up in San Diego and he’d never been married. She knew some of his professional history, including that in his early twenties he’d moved up to L.A. to work as a stuntman. He’d taken some free-lance jobs working for a P.I. firm in Los Angeles as a process server, which was where he’d discovered his knack for finding people who didn’t want to be found.
So in terms of R.J.’s professional background, Krista was fairly well-informed. But details about his personal life were harder to come by. Krista had considered snooping around using some of her P.I. tools. But she’d held off—not out of respect for his privacy, but out of paranoia that he’d find out she’d been stalking him online.
She wanted to know more about him, but she didn’t want to find it through detective work. She wanted him to tell her. She wanted him to open up. Otherwise, there was no way she’d ever get over this wariness she had around him.
R.J. was right. She had her guard up. But it was a survival tactic, one she’d learned the hard way. R.J. was a playboy, and Krista had no interest in getting her heart trampled on again. So until, and unless, she knew for sure that he wasn’t involved with someone else, this thing between them wasn’t going anywhere.
“Okay, shifting lanes now.” He glanced at her. “He’s getting off the highway.”
“Where?”
“Looks like Temescal Canyon Road. He’s probably going to Pacific Palisades.”
A step down from Malibu, but not a big one. Sure enough, Jared turned onto a road that went up into the hills. Krista took directions from R.J. to stay on his tail while keeping plenty of distance. She tailed him all the way into a beautiful residential neighborhood on a hillside overlooking the Pacific. Was he going to a private home? Maybe Riley had taken
a job as a maid or a nanny?
“No way he’d lead us right to her,” Krista said again. “And anyway, why would she go to the trouble to pull up stakes, then settle back down so close to where she’d been before?”
“Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she left for a while and then came back.”
“Why?”
“People are creatures of habit. They resist change. Maybe she missed her friends or her hangouts or her boyfriend. Maybe she ran out of money and needed to reconnect with her old network.” R.J. held up his hand. “Okay, he’s turning in somewhere. Slow down.”
Krista pulled into a fancy strip center where the shops had stone facades and identical signage. Even Starbucks was hardly recognizable.
“Looks like he parked.” R.J. zoomed in on the map, and some of the business names popped up. “Place is called Leaf and Light.”
Krista took a parking space beneath an oak tree, where the pickup would be shaded and relatively out of sight. She pulled out her phone and looked up the business.
“Leaf and Light. Farm-to-table cuisine,” Krista recited. “Utilizing locally sourced ingredients raised with exacting care, deemphasizing industrial food systems.” She explored their web site. “Looks like they specialize in brunch. You can get free-range eggs topped with lobster gratin finished with a shellfish emulsion.”
R.J. winced.
“If you prefer lunch, they’ve got grass-fed lamb sliders served with endive salad and a house-made pickle.”
R.J. watched the restaurant, and Krista could practically see the wheels turning in his head.
“You think Riley works here?” she asked.
“Doubtful.”
“Why?”
“Just a feeling.”
“So, why’d he book it over here right after my conversation with him? This has to be connected.”
“You’re right.” R.J. shoved open his door and tossed his phone at her. “Keep an eye on the truck in case he leaves.”
“Wait, where are you going?” She caught his arm.
“To see what he’s doing in there.”
“But what’s your strategy? You can’t just waltz in there. You’ll stand out.”
He shrugged. “I’ll order cage-free omelet with artisanal cheese.”
“But—”
“Stay put.”
He slammed the door and strode off, leaving her alone in his oversized truck. She muttered a curse and looked around the shopping center.
She could go grab a latte. Or she could follow him. Or she could stay put, which was the last thing she wanted to do because he’d commanded her like a dog.
But it was the logical course of action, so she stayed.
She rolled up the windows to create a reflective shield just in case anyone should glance her way. She watched the restaurant, which seemed to be a hot spot for women in yoga pants and men in two-hundred-dollar running shirts. She spotted a few designer jogging strollers. And she knew that no matter what R.J. ordered, he wouldn’t blend in because every female in the place would notice him the instant he stepped through the door.
But maybe Jared wouldn’t notice him, which was what mattered.
Krista watched the restaurant, thinking about their near-miss this morning. A few inches closer and R.J. could have been in the hospital. Or dead.
She shuddered.
Why couldn’t she fall for some boring, normal guy who had a nine-to-five job and maybe drove a Honda? Someone who didn’t go skydiving on the weekends when he wasn’t busy chasing down felons?
I know the way to your heart.
His phone buzzed with an incoming call, and Krista took it from the cup holder. It was a local area code, but she didn’t recognize the number. A client? Maybe a girlfriend?
None of her business.
She sat back and watched the restaurant. Above the door was a weather vane with a rooster perched on top. R.J. was right—this place didn’t feel like Riley Campbell’s style. But, hey, what did she know? She basically only knew the woman from her digital footprint.
A minute ticked by. Two. Three. R.J.’s phone buzzed again. Krista ignored her curiosity and left it alone.
Someone definitely wanted to get hold of him. But that wasn’t her problem. And she definitely wasn’t going to jot down the number to look up later using one of her databases. Nope.
The damn thing buzzed again. She grabbed the phone and dropped it in the console, then slammed the lid shut. Sometimes she hated having so many snooping tools right at her fingertips. They were convenient, yes, but they presented her with moral dilemmas other people didn’t have.
A white Silverado rolled out of the parking lot. Krista sat up straighter. Too far away to see who was at the wheel, or if anyone was in the passenger seat. The truck pulled into the turn lane and made a U-turn, and Krista was glad she’d parked in the shadows as the Silverado sped past her.
She bit her lip and watched the restaurant as the minutes dragged on. Was it possible R.J. had found Riley and that he was in there talking to her at this very moment?
A loud rap on the window made her jump. R.J. jerked opened the door.
“Scoot over. I’m driving.”
She slid across the console. “He left ten minutes ago.”
“I know.”
“What happened?”
He got behind the wheel, and a faint buzzing noise filled the truck. He glanced around. “Where’s my phone?”
“In the console. What happened?”
“A lot.” He retrieved the phone and checked the tracking app. “Okay, he’s moving south on the PCH, same way he came. My guess is he’s headed back to work.”
“R.J., what happened?”
“Just a sec.” He tapped in his voicemail code and listened to a message.
Krista waited impatiently.
“Damn it.” He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. At last he put the phone down and looked at her.
“Okay, good news and bad news. Good news is we have a new lead. I grabbed a seat at the bar and watched Jared take one of the waitresses aside. They had a quick conversation, lots of worried expressions.”
“What did this waitress look like?”
“Thin. Blond. Butterfly tattoo on her neck.”
“Any chance it was Riley in disguise?”
“She was about eight inches too short. She was pretty, though, and about Riley’s age. I chatted up the bartender and got a name: Missy Davis.”
“Did you talk to her?”
He shook his head. “Decided it was better to leave it alone so we don’t spook her.”
“Good call. What’s the bad news?”
“Bad news is I can’t follow up right now. That was Walker on the phone. I have to run down a witness for him.”
Drake Walker was one of the slimiest defense attorneys in Orange County. He also happened to be R.J.’s best-paying client.
“Right now?”
“Right now. He’s got a trial tomorrow, so he’s prepping witnesses all day. This guy’s first on the stand in the morning and he’s gone AWOL.”
“You have to find him by tomorrow?”
“I’ve got some ideas. This man has a mistress in Laguna Beach. I can probably find him through her and get him to Walker’s office in two, three hours tops.”
Krista glanced at the restaurant. “This waitress must know Riley. Why else would Jared come here?”
“Agreed. So, we’ve got two options.” R.J. checked his watch. “I can have Brian come meet you here, and you two can wait for this waitress to get off work and follow her home. Or I can have Brian track her down by computer, and whatever lead he comes up with I’ll run down after I finish this job for Walker.”
“None of the above.”
“Damn it, I knew you were going to say that.”
“Take me to my place,” she said. “I’ll track her down myself.”
Chapter Five
Krista camped out in front of her computer with a super-size bag of Cheetos. R.J.’s job had
gone from “three hours tops” to five hours and counting.
“Give us a kiss! Give us a kiss!”
She glanced at Spencer as he pecked at the mesh of his cage with his orange-dusted beak.
“No more Cheetos, Spence.”
“Give us a kiss!”
Krista’s phone chimed from the table and she reached for it. Mac.
“Anything?”
“I’m getting closer,” Mac reported. “I need a middle initial.”
“I think her middle name’s Anne with an ‘E’. What do you have?”
But he’d already hung up. Not the most tactful guy on the planet, but he was a wizard with computers, so Krista let it go.
She tapped away at her laptop, adding to the profile she’d been building, which she hoped soon would lead to an address.
It was a classic locate job that had gone almost completely by the book—probably because Missy Davis was not actually the one hiding, her friend was.
As Krista had guessed from the start, Missy wasn’t her legal name. A search of motor vehicle records had yielded more than a hundred Melissa Davises in California alone. After narrowing those down based on age and location, Krista had ended up with twenty-six. Cross-referencing those on Facebook had been tedious, but she’d come up with four possible candidates, one whose profile picture included a glimpse of a butterfly tattoo.
Krista stared at her computer screen now, sucking cheese dust off her fingertips.
Melissa Anne Davis of Venice Beach, California.
She was twenty-two and had attended Granite Bay High School in Granite Bay, California. No college listed or relationship status. Missy was a Giants fan and her hobbies included cycling and rock climbing.
Krista carefully combed through the photos of her friends, looking for anyone who resembled Riley. She might have changed her appearance, but Krista was confident she could see past anything superficial. After a careful search, though, no one even came close. So either Riley wasn’t friends with Missy, or she made a point to stay away from social media.
Lost and Found Page 5