Stranger in Town

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “You’ll have to if I bring you in.”

  “Go for it.”

  “Will you at least tell me why you met with him?”

  I shook my head.

  “So, you’re not willin’ to help me at all, then?”

  “I work alone,” I said.

  “And your, uh, friend?”

  “Don’t let her outgoing nature and lack of a classy dress choice fool you; she’s smarter than you think.”

  “Who’s smarter?” came a voice from behind.

  “No one, Maddie,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  I walked toward the car, stopping a moment to glance back at Cade before getting inside. “Good luck.”

  “I’d like to know where you’re staying—or if you’re staying.”

  “It’s none of your concern,” I said. “Stop following me.”

  “You shouldn’t even be here.”

  “I’m not leaving,” I said.

  “Good. Neither am I.”

  “Oh, and the next time you want something, don’t tail me to try and get it. I don’t go for all this sneaking around. People get shot that way.”

  He nodded.

  “Straight shooter, got it.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The phone rang. It was Giovanni. I contemplated my options: let it ring, send the call to voicemail, or answer it. It was late, and my eyes were only about twenty-five percent open. I wasn’t up for a conversation with anyone, especially him. Still, I wondered where he’d been the past several days. Why he hadn’t called, texted, or communicated with me? I wanted answers, but I was too drained to care. I needed sleep. It was his turn to wait.

  I tossed the phone to the side and rolled over, appreciating the hotel for using duvets on their beds instead of those cheap tapestry-looking comforters from the eighties. Or was it the seventies? It bugged me that the cover bedding was seldom washed, like slapping on a set of sheets made up for a bedspread that contained more germs per inch than the inside of a frat boy’s toilet. I couldn’t sleep at night no matter where I was without folding the top sheet over the comforter. It was like a protective layer between me and unwanted germs, and I justified myself by thinking everyone had the same little rituals. Didn’t they?

  According to a news report I’d seen on TV, the remote and light switches were the areas that contained some of the highest amounts of germs in a hotel room. Since entering, I’d only disinfected the TV remote and the light switch next to my bed. That wasn’t too bad, was it? I didn’t intend to turn on the bathroom faucets using my elbows or flush the toilet with my foot; I wasn’t a germaphobe, I was germ-aware. Big difference.

  The phone rang again, which meant Giovanni would keep calling until I answered. He was unstoppable when he wanted something, and I needed sleep. I picked it up.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hello, cara mia. It’s good to hear your voice.”

  It was nice to hear his too, but the sweet talk wasn’t going to work. Not this time.

  “Are you there?” he said.

  “I’m here,” I said.

  “Say something.”

  “Like what?” I said.

  “Anything.”

  “I don’t feel like talking,” I said. “I’m tired.”

  “You’re angry. I can hear it in your voice.”

  “I haven’t heard from you in almost a week, Giovanni. Not one word. And now you finally call, and there’s no apology, no explanation, nothing. Maybe this is typical relationship behavior for you, but I—”

  “I know, I should have told you.”

  “Told me what?” I said.

  “My sister was taken.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” I said. “Abducted?”

  “Yes.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Another one. Although the reasons wouldn’t be the same. Giovanni’s sister wasn’t a child.

  “From where?” I said.

  “Her apartment in New York City.”

  “But she has an alarm system, doesn’t she?”

  “It was disabled.”

  “Do you know who did it?”

  “My brother and I are working together to figure it out. He’s here with me. We’re getting close.”

  Giovanni’s brother was in the FBI. If anyone could find her, he could. I wouldn’t want to be the other person when they did.

  “Why would anyone want to take Daniela?” I said.

  There was a pause, followed by heavy breathing.

  “Giovanni, I want to know. Tell me.”

  “I’m afraid it has something to do with me.”

  “You? Why?”

  “A few months ago a group of men I used to do business with reached out to me. They needed a favor, asked for my help. I turned them down. They got angry, started making threats, but I didn’t take them seriously. I never believed anything would come of it. I had those closest to me under surveillance, just in case, but—”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “You didn’t have anyone keeping an eye on me, did you?”

  His prolonged silence provided the answer. But I lacked the energy to be angry, and the right—not while Daniela was still missing.

  “If you were looking out for your sister, how did she get abducted?” I said.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. It appears one of my men may have been providing information to someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “I have my suspicions, and he is being followed. I need to be sure.”

  “Why did you wait so long to tell me?” I said.

  “I didn’t want to get you involved—this is something I need to do on my own.”

  “You involved me when I became part of your life,” I said.

  “I knew you’d be right beside me, which is why I waited to tell you until you had a new case. I’ve put Daniela in danger; I won’t let it happen to you as well.”

  “How do you know about my case?”

  Stupid question. He knew everything, except for the current whereabouts of his sister. And he was right. If I hadn’t been trying to find Olivia and Savannah, I would have been on the next flight to New York City.

  Giovanni apologized, something he wasn’t used to doing. It was sincere, and as much as I wanted to be there, he promised to keep me informed of any progress he was making if I stayed put, and I agreed—at least until my own case was solved. But if I solved it, and Daniela was still missing, our deal was off.

  “It was me,” Maddie said when my conversation with Giovanni was over. She sat down on the bed, patting Lord Berkeley on the head and avoiding eye contact. “Lucio called me and wanted to know if you were all right.”

  I leaned back on the pillow. “Well, at least now I know why Giovanni finally called. Once he found out I had something else to occupy my time, he knew I wouldn’t fly out there. Not right now, anyway.”

  “He just didn’t want you to worry,” she said.

  But I was worried, and not just for Daniela. I was finally starting to understand the consequences of being involved with someone who lived the kind of life Giovanni did. He might have been loving and kind to me, but that was only one side of his personality. I’d never seen the other. And I didn’t want to—I’d grown fond of him over the past several months, an attribute that allowed me to overlook certain things. I couldn’t imagine what Daniela might have been suffering on her brother’s behalf, or if she was still alive. I wanted to sleep, but I couldn’t. Now that I knew the price of being with him, what was I going to do about it?

  CHAPTER 17

  In my dream, two girls were running through the woods, calling for me—by name. The sounds of their voices echoed around me. The girls came to a door suspended in mid-air between two giant pine trees and knocked on it, even though they could have just stepped around it and been on the other side. I tried to open the door, but it was stuck. The knob turned, but when I pulled back, nothing happened. Their knocking grew so loud it vibrated in my head, forcing me awake.

&n
bsp; Someone was knocking on the hotel room door.

  I sat straight up in bed and looked around. I shouted for Maddie. There was no reply. And Boo wasn’t on the bed anymore. Maybe Maddie had gone out and forgotten her room key. I threw my robe on and cracked open the door, surprised when it wasn’t Maddie on the other side.

  The man in the hallway was an older gentleman, at least twenty years my senior, maybe more. He wore a button-up shirt with a thin, black vest over the top, and a brown cowboy hat that looked like it had gone through the washing machine a few too many times. Around his neck was a tassel-like choker worn in place of a tie with a round piece of solid rock the size of a half dollar dangling from it. His beard was white and slight and most likely trimmed on a daily basis. It made him look respectable and refined, but it didn’t hide his tired, stress-infused eyes.

  “Detective McCoy?” I said.

  “How’d you know?” the man said with a slight smile.

  “Lucky guess,” I said. “You’re Cade’s father, right?”

  He nodded. “I was hopin’ I could have a word?”

  I stifled a yawn. “What time is it?”

  “A little after six in the mornin’,” he said. “I’m sorry if I woke you. I can come back later if you like.”

  I opened the door all the way, letting him in. “Give me just a minute.”

  I brushed my teeth, saving my daily flossing routine for later. I didn’t want to keep the detective waiting. On the bathroom counter was a note scratched in pencil:

  I took Boo for a walk. Back soon.

  I pulled on a pair of jeans, zipped up my sweater, and joined the detective in the living room area of the hotel.

  “My son says you’re a private investigator,” he said.

  “Are you here to ask me to leave? Because if you are, you should know I—”

  He shook his head.

  “Six months ago, I would have done everything in my power to run you out of town, but now…” He curled one hand over the other, resting them in his lap. “My boy says you had a meetin’ with Noah Tate a few days ago. I’m interested in knowin’ what the conversation was all about.”

  I crossed one leg over the other. “I’m sure you’re aware of why Mr. Tate came to see me.”

  Detective McCoy removed his hat and placed it on the cushion beside him. “I am.”

  “Then what you’re really asking me is whether I know something you don’t.”

  He sighed.

  “S’pose so.” He leaned back, tugging on a bit of chin hair. “Well, do you?”

  “There is one thing,” I said.

  Detective McCoy’s eyes electrified, almost changing color. “What did he tell you?”

  “I can’t say right now,” I said. “Not yet.”

  Detective McCoy contemplated my statement like he was trying to decide what he should do next, which was fine with me. I wasn’t going to tell him either way.

  “In all my years of police work, I’ve never had a case like this,” he said. “Sure, there have been a few murders now and again, but not more than I can count on one hand, and none I couldn’t solve. The responsible party has always been obvious. I thought that’s how I’d retire. I’d go out like all the others before me, quiet and unnoticed, without ever having the kind of case that keeps a man up all night wonderin’ if he’d missed something.”

  He hung his head and continued.

  “Do you want to know somethin’? For a while, I actually felt a little like I’d been robbed, not havin’ a case like this, until I got it. Now I’d do anything to go out as the quiet guy. I feel incapable of doing the job I was sworn in to do. I can’t go anywhere in this town without feelin’ like I’ve let everyone down. I can see it in their eyes every time they look at me. I’ve gotten to know Savannah Tate so well over the months, I feel like she’s my own child.”

  The emotions of others had always been hard for me to endure. As a child, the verbal tongue-lashing my sister and I received from our father, combined with the physical abuse he unleashed on my mother, shut me down almost completely, and I never felt like I’d fully restarted. I wasn’t devoid of feelings—I’d always felt an iota of something—but it seemed like it wasn’t ever the same thing other people felt.

  “Detective McCoy, I don’t mind sharing what I know. In fact, I want you to know. I just need to speak with Mr. Tate first.”

  “When do you plan on seeing him next?” he said.

  “I’ll be stopping by his house today. Can we meet up again this evening?”

  He grabbed his hat and stood up, pleased with the progress he’d made. He took out his wallet and handed me his card. “My home number is there,” he said, pointing. “It’s the best way to reach me. I’m not much for cell phones. I have one, but I forget to charge the damn thing.”

  I nodded and accepted the card.

  Detective McCoy hesitated a moment.

  “Is there anything else?” I said.

  “You’ll have to forgive my boy,” he said. “Cade’s having a hard time seeing me go through all of this. But he doesn’t mean you any harm. He’s just trying to help his old man.”

  “Cade said he’ll be taking over your position.”

  “Looks like it,” he said.

  “Have you worked together long?”

  He shook his head.

  “Cade went into law enforcement right out of high school, but then he got married and decided to move away.”

  “Why?”

  “His wife,” he said. “She was determined to live by her family. She didn’t want much to do with ours. I never understood why. But back then, Cade didn’t deny her anything. He would have moved anywhere just to make her happy.”

  How very codependent of him.

  “And now? How does she feel about living here?”

  “Cade’s wife walked out on him a couple years back. Took off with some guy she’d met at work. Left Cade to raise their daughter on his own. That woman just walked out. No note, no warning. She didn’t even bother taking her things. Not that I’m complaining. Finally gives his mother and me the chance to get to know our granddaughter. I’m not gonna lie, we’re glad he’s home.”

  The world had changed in a profound way since my grandparents were young. Back then people fought for their marriage, worked things out, didn’t give up on each other so easily. People respected each other. They worked hard, and it wasn’t easy, but they were happy. Most of the time, anyway. That’s what my grandpa had always said.

  But things had changed. The world had changed. Men and women were impatient and selfish and rushed. They didn’t like it when things didn’t “feel” right. But instead of taking a long, hard look at themselves and accepting responsibility for their part in the relationship, they fled the scene. At the first sign of trouble, they simply ended things, walked out. Men succumbed to the temptation of another woman, and women abandoned their own children, leaving them for someone else to raise. It was all about me, me, me. There was some level of independence that came with this, but no balance.

  Of course everyone didn’t give up so easily, but it was happening all around me: to my friends, my neighbors, my loved ones. I didn’t understand how anyone could behave in such a disrespectful, selfish way and still feel good about themselves. Maybe because it wasn’t in me to do those things. I wasn’t a quitter. My relationships hadn’t always worked out, but when they ended, they ended honorably, and not because I’d been brainwashed into thinking life could be better in someone else’s bed.

  CHAPTER 18

  Mr. Tate had the kind of home that made me question what he did for a living and whether Harrison Ford’s eight-hundred-acre ranch was anywhere nearby, but there were no signs, no Hollywood tour buses, nothing to indicate the Indiana Jones star even lived around there. Maybe that’s what attracted Mr. Tate to the area in the first place. It was quiet and had neighborhoods that reminded me a lot of Park City—with the exception of the magnificent Grand Tetons in the background.

  The ex
terior of his home was made of part stone and part wood, although I couldn’t tell what kind of wood. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. A detached garage sat to the left of the house, and judging from its size, a half a dozen cars could have fit in it. On the front of the house an American flag was bolted into one of the two square wood columns on the porch.

  Everything about the area was perfect, except for the black Dodge Ram parked across the street. Obviously my message from the previous evening had not been received. The two of us exited our vehicles at the same time. But Cade was the only person with a smile on his face.

  “Mornin’,” he said. “You look…rested.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I knew you’d show up sooner or later,” he said.

  “What if it was later?”

  He shrugged.

  “I would have waited. It’s not like I have other pressin’ matters to attend to right now.”

  “If Noah Tate was interested in talking to you, he wouldn’t have hired me. What do you plan to achieve by hanging around?”

  “I figure if anyone can get him to talk to me, it’s you,” he said, pointing in my direction.

  “I wouldn’t stick around to find out if I were you.”

  He folded his arms.

  “You want to find Savannah, don’t you? So do I—so does my dad.” He threw his arms in the air. “Hell, so does everyone. I’ve been thinkin’, maybe if you can get him to talk, I’ll let you work with me.”

  He’d let me? I tried to stifle the laugh I felt coming on.

  “No thanks. I’ll pass.”

  “Now don’t be hasty,” he said. “Just give it some time, let it simmer awhile before you make your final decision. We can talk more about it later.”

  “I don’t need your help. And I’m not going anywhere until you leave.”

  Cade shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the truck, allowing his cowboy hat to fall past his eyes. “Suit yourself.”

  I felt the urge to throw a temper tantrum.