“Thanks, Dev. That sounds perfect. ”
“Told him expenses would be covered.”
“No problem,” Logan said. “Give me his cell number and I’ll text him the picture we have of Sara. It isn’t great, but it’s all we got.”
“He’ll do what he can with it,” Dev said, and then rattled off the number.
“How soon can he get out there?” Logan asked.
“I assumed you wanted them out there right away, so I already gave him the go ahead. If he’s not on the road already, he will be soon.”
__________
IT WAS ALMOST six p.m. when Logan left the coffee shop. He thought Alan would still be at the office, but since he was close to the accountant’s house, he decided to try him there. When no one answered his knock right away, he guessed that he would have to come back later.
Then he heard a voice, distant and muffled. “Coming!”
A few seconds later, the deadbolt slid free and the door opened.
“Logan,” Alan said, surprised. “Come in. Come in.” He moved out of the way so Logan could enter, then shut the door behind him. “Sorry. Emily took a late nap, and I guess I fell asleep in the chair.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Logan said.
“Are you kidding? I shouldn’t be sleeping at all. I’ve got too much work to do.”
“Yeah, I was beginning to think you were still at the office.”
Alan hesitated before saying, “Emily goes to this nursery school in the mornings. She’s been attending since…well, before, so I thought it best that she kept going. While she’s there I go into the office. Then, unless there’s no way around it, I work the afternoons here.”
Alan could have easily afforded a nanny, but Logan could see that wasn’t even an option for him. He was trying to make Emily’s life as unchanged as possible, and while Sara was no longer there for her after nursery school, he was.
“I won’t take up much of your time,” Logan said.
“Whatever you need.” Alan smiled. “Callie told me you’d agreed to help.”
“I’ll do what I can, but don’t get your hopes up. The agency Callie used to try to find Sara seems pretty first rate. I don’t have their resources so I may not find out anything at all.”
“I realize that,” Alan said. “I’m just happy someone’s trying.”
There was an awkward moment, then Logan said, “I’m here because I was hoping I could borrow the letter Sara left for you.”
Alan looked surprised. “Why do you want that?”
“I just want to make a copy of it. I’ll bring it back to you in the morning.”
“Okay,” Alan said, drawing the word out. “I still don’t understand why, though.”
“It’s the only good sample of her handwriting that you have. I may not need it at all, but in case I do…”
Alan nodded. “Of course. Wait here and I’ll get it.”
He returned a little while later with the letter. Logan held out his hand to take it, but Alan hesitated.
“Please,” he said, finally giving Logan the note. “Don’t let anything happen to it. It’s…the last thing, you know?”
“I understand,” Logan said. “Thank you.” He took a step toward the door.
“What are you going to do now?” Alan asked.
“Check a few things Callie’s PI was working on.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“I’ll figure that out then.”
Logan walked through the entry and opened the door.
“If you need me for anything, anything at all, just call,” Alan said.
“I will.”
“I don’t mean just questions. If Sara’s in trouble, I want to help.”
“Let’s find out what’s going on first. I promise—if there’s something you can do to help, I’ll let you know.”
The answer didn’t seem to completely satisfy Alan, but he nodded as if he knew it was the best he would get.
Logan wished there was something more encouraging he could say, but he wasn’t going to lie. So instead, he nodded a good-bye then stepped outside with the note.
CHAPTER NINE
CHRIS “PEP” PEPPER dove into the search for the runaway mom with focused determination. Dev had warned him that things might not be as they appeared, so he should avoid any preconceived notions.
While Pep understood what Dev was trying to say, there was no way his own past couldn’t help but influence his feelings. His childhood was fine enough, his mother distant but physically there. It was his brother Marko’s kids that he couldn’t keep out of his mind.
Pep’s sister-in-law, Ann, had not run off unexpectedly. She’d been killed while crossing a street to get change for a parking meter. Just like that, Marko’s kids lost their mother. Pep had seen how her absence affected them. Marko had tried to do the best he could, but his kids would always be living with that absence.
Pep knew Ann would have given anything to stay with her children, but that wasn’t a choice she’d been given. Sara Lindley, on the other hand, did have that choice. Whatever trouble she might be in, how the hell could the best answer have been abandoning her child? No matter how much he tried to rationalize it as he drove across the Mojave Desert, he couldn’t come up with a good answer.
He arrived in Braden at around eight thirty p.m., and spent the first two hours going around to restaurants and motels showing the picture Logan Harper had sent him. It was obvious the image of the woman had been cropped from a larger photo and enlarged to focus on her. She was a bit fuzzy and not fully facing the camera, but it was enough to get a pretty good idea of what she looked like. Unfortunately, no one had recognized her so far.
As the night grew late, he switched his focus to the several bars scattered around town.
“What’re you drinking?” the bartender asked. It was the third bar Pep visited.
“Just want to show you something, if you don’t mind,” Pep said.
He already had his phone in his hand, so he brought up the picture and turned it so the bartender—an old, leather-skinned guy who looked like he’d been birthed from the desert itself—could see it.
“Ever see her before?”
The man looked at the screen, shrugged, and said, “I have no idea. People come in and out of here all the time.”
Pep would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking at the man’s face when he glanced at the picture. For a brief second, the man’s eyes widened. He had seen the woman before.
“You sure?” Pep asked.
The man stepped back from the bar. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
Pep frowned and shook his head. “You’re lying.”
“Hey, buddy. I don’t like being called a liar.”
“Then tell me the truth when you answer the question. Have you seen her before?”
The bartender shrugged noncommittally.
So that’s how the guy wanted to play it. Pep pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket and set it on the bar. “Tell me,” he said, his fingers securing the bill in place.
The guy looked at Pep, then at the twenty, and smiled. “I don’t know. She looks like someone who came in here a couple times.”
“Looks like, or is?”
Another shrug, but one that seemed to indicate the latter more than the former.
Pep picked up the twenty and folded it as if he were going to put it back in his pocket.
“Hey, what are you doing?” the bartender asked.
“I don’t pay for guessing games.”
“A twenty’s not that much.”
Now it was Pep’s turn to shrug. He stepped toward the door.
“Wait a minute,” the bartender said.
Pep paused.
“Yeah. I’ve seen her.”
Walking back to the bar, Pep asked, “When?”
“A year or two ago. Came in a couple times.”
That was not the answer Pep had been expecting. “A year or two? Why would you remember
someone who came in here a couple times that long ago?”
“She, um, came in with someone I know.”
“Someone here in Braden?”
“Maybe.”
Pep took a step back like he was going to leave again.
“Okay, yes. Your friend there came in with a woman named Diana Stockley.”
“And who is she?”
“Works at The Hideaway. It’s another bar. She should be there if she’s working tonight.” He held out this hand. “So can I get my twenty now?”
__________
THERE WAS A woman behind the bar at The Hideaway when Pep walked in. From the other bartender’s description, she had to be Diana Stockley.
The Hideaway was packed, so the woman was kept busy, running around and making drinks. Pep took a seat at the bar. Over a twenty-minute period, he started up a conversation with her without ever letting on he knew her name or of her potential connection to Sara. Finally he showed her the picture, but unlike with the old man, there wasn’t even a hint that she’d ever seen Sara. So had the other guy been pulling a fast one just to get the money out of him? Or was this woman the one who was lying?
“Sorry. Who is she?” Diana asked.
“You don’t know her?”
She shook her head. “No. She a friend of yours or something?”
“Hey, Diana. How ’bout another beer?” someone called from the far end of the bar.
“Excuse me,” she told Pep, and walked off.
Pep hung at the bar for another quarter hour but was unable to grab any more time with the woman, so he began showing the picture around to the customers. Those that paid him attention showed no sign of having ever seen Sara. Finally, he decided he wasn’t going to get much further that night. He’d go find a room, come back early the next evening before the place got busy, and maybe he could have some quality time with the bartender to find out for sure if she knew anything or not.
The parking lot of The Hideaway was small, and had been packed when he arrived, so he’d had to park along the side of the road a block away. When he got to his car, he unlocked the driver’s door and pulled it open.
“You’re looking for Sara?”
Pep turned. The voice had come from down the gap between two abandoned buildings, but it was too dark to see anyone.
“Who’s there?” he called out, instantly alert. He’d only been showing Sara’s picture, not giving out her name.
“I…I know where she is.”
“Tell me who you are,” Pep said.
“I can’t. They’ll kill me if they find out I’m here.”
“Who’ll kill you?”
“Never mind. I…I shouldn’t have…shouldn’t have come.”
Footsteps moved toward the back of the building, quickly fading to nothing.
Pep ran after them. “No. Wait. Please, just tell me where she is. I need to—”
The board hit him square in the face, twisting him to the ground. Immediately, someone jumped onto his back, holding him down and hitting him in the ribs and head and kidneys. Stunned by the initial blow, he could do little to fight back.
“Stop looking for her,” a voice whispered in his ear as the world started to close in on him.
Then another blow, and another.
If the voice said anything more, Pep didn’t hear it.
CHAPTER TEN
LOGAN’S EYES SNAPPED open.
His phone was vibrating loudly against the nightstand, smacking against the hard surface. At home, a small tablecloth covered his stand, dulling the noise. That was definitely not the case here. He might as well have turned the ringer on.
He snapped it up and tapped the ACCEPT button.
“Hello?”
“Sorry to wake you.” It was Dev.
Logan swung his feet off the bed, and glanced at the clock next to where the phone had been. It was 3:42 a.m. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Pep.”
Pep? It took Logan a second, then he remembered—Pep, the man who Dev had arranged to check out Braden. “Did he find her?”
“He’s in the hospital.”
“Hospital? What happened?”
“I just got off the phone with a nurse a few minutes ago. Said Pep had asked her to call me. Apparently someone beat him up outside a bar. She tells me he wasn’t drunk. Pep, I mean. The other guy—they don’t know who he was.”
“Did you get a chance to talk to him?”
“No. But apparently he said he’d been showing a picture around.”
Sara’s picture.
“I’m heading out there, but it’s going to take me a good six hours at least,” Dev said.
The hotel where Logan, Harp, and Barney were now staying was in Laguna Beach. At this time of night, they could probably reach Braden in about half the time.
“We’ll meet you there,” Logan said.
__________
BY THE TIME Logan was able to get Harp and Barney up and out the door, it was after four, so they didn’t reach Braden until a quarter after seven. Even at that early hour, it was easy to tell the day was going to be a scorcher. Already the temperature was north of ninety-five degrees.
As they drove into town, they caught a glimpse of the Colorado River to the east, its wide, blue stripe at odds with the brown landscape that surrounded it. The city limits sign listed the town’s population at 4,763. There was nothing gaudy or fancy about the place, just a working-class town full of people struggling to carve out an existence from one of the harshest environments on the planet. It wasn’t a place Logan would ever choose to live—not a judgment, just an observation.
Following the instructions from the GPS on his phone, they exited I-40 and made their way to the Braden City Medical Center. Like the town itself, it was small—three one-story structures connected by covered walkways. The buildings were made of tan concrete blocks, textured on the outside to give them a rough-hewn look, and were surrounded by low-impact desert landscaping.
The hospital’s lobby was about the size of Dunn Right’s garage back home. Behind a counter along the far wall were two nurses and an older woman who appeared to be the receptionist.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked as they walked up.
“Thank you, yes,” Logan said. “A friend of ours was brought in last night. Chris Pepper?”
Without even looking at her computer screen, she said, “Was he the one who was in that fight?”
“That’s what we understand.”
“We don’t approve of drunks in our town.”
“I was told he wasn’t drunk.”
She gave him a pitiful you-can’t-believe-everything-you-hear look. “He was near a bar.”
Logan forced a smile. “Is it possible to see him?”
She was shaking her head before he even finished. “You’ll have to come back. Visiting hours don’t begin until eight.”
He’d been afraid of that. “Is there at least a way to find out how he’s doing? We’ve driven for several hours to get here.”
Looking doubtful, she said, “Have a seat, and I’ll check.”
“Thank you.”
They found chairs not far away.
“I don’t like her attitude,” Harp said.
“Sometimes people get set in their ways,” Logan said. “Only see the things they want to see.”
Both Harp and Barney stared at him.
“Are you talking about old people?” Barney asked.
“We’re not the only ones who can get set in our ways,” Harp added.
Logan scoffed. “Did I say anything about old people?”
“It was implied,” his father argued.
A grunted laugh escaped Logan’s mouth. “Whatever you want to believe, Dad.”
Before anyone could say anything else, the door to the left of the reception counter opened, and a woman wearing a white doctor’s coat exited. She was short, with blonde hair and tired-looking eyes that Logan guessed meant she was closer to the end of her shift than
the beginning. When she glanced at the receptionist, the older woman nodded toward Logan and the others.
“I understand you’re friends of Mr. Pepper’s, is that correct?” she asked as soon as she drew near.
All three stood.
“Yes,” Logan said.
She held out her hand. “I’m Dr. Ramey.”
“Logan Harper.” They shook. “This is my dad, Harp, and our friend, Barney Needham.”
“Barney’s a doctor, so don’t hold back,” Harp told her.
“Harp!” Barney said.
“Dad!” Logan chimed in at the same time.
“What?” Harp asked.
Logan took a breath, then said to the doctor, “How is he?”
“Better than when he came in. He’s got two broken ribs, a fractured cheek, numerous cuts and bruises. He definitely didn’t come out the winner.”
“What about the other guy?” Logan asked.
“As far as I know, the police are still looking for him.”
“Was he drunk?” Harp asked, his eyes flicking toward the receptionist.
She hesitated. “Typically, that would be confidential, but I don’t think it would be a problem to tell you he had no trace of alcohol or drugs in his blood.”
“So he wasn’t drunk,” Harp said.
“No. He wasn’t.”
Harp looked at the receptionist again, his eyes hard and narrow. “You should tell your staff that so they’ll stop making false accusations.”
The doctor looked back at the woman, sighed, and turned to Harp. “I’ll have someone talk to her.” Her tone made it sound like this wouldn’t be the first time.
“I know visiting hours aren’t for a while yet,” Logan said, “but is there any chance we can see him now? We came straight here the moment we arrived in town.”
Dr. Ramey considered it, then nodded. “Sure. For a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” Logan said.
“This way.”
As she led them to the door, the receptionist looked over with both surprise and disapproval. Harp stared back at her, then said in a whisper loud enough for everyone to hear, “He wasn’t drunk.”
They passed examining rooms, a nurses’ station, and a lunchroom before turning down the hallway that served as the ICU. Dr. Ramey explained that while Pep’s life wasn’t in danger, it was still important to keep an eye on him in case there was any internal damage they hadn’t been able to diagnose. She asked them to wait a moment then went off to talk to one of the nurses.
[Logan Harper 02] - Every Precious Thing Page 5