“I think I’ll get a bottle of water,” Raine said, unlatching her seat belt.
“I’ll be a few minutes.” Chase got out of the vehicle. “I’ll let Killer sniff the grass over there first.”
He stretched his arms over his head, his body no doubt cramped and tight from sitting behind the wheel, and Raine’s mouth went dry. His grey T-shirt stretched tight over his chest, riding up to reveal a strip of bronzed skin between the hem and the waistband of his jeans. Powerful, sleek muscles were bisected by a faint line of silky black hair that started at his navel and disappeared beneath his belt buckle, just above his Levi’s buttons.
Traveling with Chase held unforeseen land mines, she thought. He’d lowered his guard this afternoon and let her glimpse the man beneath the steely exterior. That Chase reminded her of the teenage boy she’d known as a child, but with a mature, wickedly attractive charm that made his physical appeal all the more powerful.
Shaking her head at her inability to ignore him, she tore her gaze from him and left the vehicle. Behind her, she heard Chase whistle softly, then the scrape of dog nails on blacktop as the Rottweiler jumped out of the SUV and the two headed for a strip of grass separating the parking lot from its neighbor.
The grocery’s interior had uneven wooden floors that creaked gently beneath her feet. Raine recognized the owner sweeping the floor in the produce aisle before she went toward the refrigerated section in the back. She opened the cold case, relishing the rush of chilled air as she selected a bottle of water. The temperature outside was at least eighty-five degrees and the store didn’t have air-conditioning. Instead, an old-fashioned swamp cooler whirred and rattled, struggling to cool and stir the warm air inside the high-ceilinged building.
The cooler seemed as old as the store. It reminded her of a building in Wolf Creek erected to house a dance hall in 1935. Now it was a Senior Citizens’ Center and the participants loved the old stories and scandals connected to the building’s heyday.
She found the snacks aisle and selected four candy bars, two for her and two for Chase. She had no idea if he had a sweet tooth but decided it might be polite to make a friendly gesture and offer him chocolate. He’d said she could accompany him on his search until she became bored and opted to go home. Despite his teasing earlier, she wasn’t totally convinced he welcomed her presence on his search. Since she had every intention of sticking to him like glue until he located Trey, she could only hope Chase didn’t lose patience and demand her departure anytime soon.
She carried the candy bars and bottle of water to the checkout counter and queued up behind two teenage girls and a middle-aged rancher wearing boots, jeans and a Stetson. The line moved swiftly, emptying the store except for Raine, and she was pocketing her change when Chase entered. He nodded at the young checkout clerk and handed him a credit card.
“I’m the black SUV at the second pump.”
The clerk swiped the card and filled out the credit slip. The young man automatically compared Chase’s signature with the card. His eyes widened.
“You’re Chase McCloud, the bounty hunter?” His voice held a touch of awe.
“That’s right.” Chase’s tone was perfectly civil but his reserve didn’t encourage further conversation, his whole appearance remote and unapproachable.
The owner of the store, a gray-haired man wearing wire-rimmed glasses, gazed up at the clerk’s question and his faded blue eyes lit with interest. Chase’s response had him setting aside his broom and striding forward, his step spry.
“Mr. McCloud, I’d like to shake your hand. And I want to thank you—you located my neighbor’s daughter, Lucy Mason, a couple of years back.”
Chase shook the elderly man’s outstretched hand. “How are Mr. and Mrs. Mason?” he asked.
“They’re doing well, much better now Lucy’s home, safe and sound. They were worried sick until you agreed to take their case.”
“I’m glad to hear things are going well for them. They’re nice people.”
“Yes, they are. They’ve been my neighbors for twenty-five years—I couldn’t ask for better ones. Lucy’s a good kid, too—they didn’t have a bit of trouble with her until she started hanging out with the wrong crowd. She went through counseling, like you suggested,” the storekeeper added. “Seems to have done her a lot of good. Her dad told me her grades are back to normal and she’s applying to colleges.”
“I’m glad to hear she’s doing so well,” Chase said.
Raine stood silently, registering the deep appreciation and respect evident in the store owner’s words and expression. Chase listened to the older man’s comments with grave courtesy, patiently answering his questions about how he’d found the teenage runaway and returned her to her frantic parents.
At last, Chase took Trey’s picture from his pocket. “I’m looking for a man that’s disappeared. Have either of you seen him in here within the last few weeks?”
Both men studied the photo. Raine’s hopes were dashed as each shook their head.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a call if you do see him.” Chase handed them each a business card. “He was driving a silver SUV. It’s missing, too.” He replaced Trey’s photo with a picture of the vehicle and the vanity plate, HARPER2. “The plate is a little unusual.”
The owner shook his head. “No, sorry. I wish I could help but I haven’t seen either the driver or the SUV.”
The younger clerk stared at the photo, his forehead furrowing. “I don’t remember the man, but the SUV…I remember seeing it.”
Raine caught her breath, hope soaring.
“When?”
“A couple of weeks ago, just before closing. The reason I remember is the two guys in the car were jerks—hassled me about not having the brand of beer they wanted. I thought they’d had enough to drink—I almost called the cops after they left but it was late and they seemed to be driving okay when I watched them leave.”
“Do you remember anything about them? Did they pay with a credit card?” Chase asked.
“No. They paid cash.”
Chase asked several more questions but the clerk didn’t remember anything more about the men. He said goodbye, cupping Raine’s elbow in his palm to turn her toward the exit and they left the store.
“He remembers Trey’s car and license plate, but not Trey.” Raine buckled her seat belt and looked at Chase. “That can’t be good news.”
“It indicates Trey was separated from his vehicle before it reached this point.” Chase drove out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway. “That’s all it means.” He glanced at her, his eyes unreadable. “Your ESP still tells you he’s okay, right?”
Raine nodded, unable to speak for the fear clogging her throat.
“So we’ve learned another piece of the puzzle. Nothing’s changed as far as your brother’s safety.”
“Right. I’ll hold that thought.”
She badly wanted to question him about the rest of the storekeeper’s conversation and the teenager he’d located, but one look at his narrowed eyes and she decided against it.
No one recognized Trey or the picture of his vehicle at their next three stops. However, slightly different versions of the celebrity treatment accorded Chase happened as they left the café where they’d eaten dinner and at the following two places.
“My, my,” she said, when they were on the road once again after asking the now familiar questions at a small gas station and mini-mart. “I didn’t realize what a celebrity you are.”
“I’m not.”
“People seem to believe you are. I thought you told me you don’t take local cases?” She caught the brief tightening of his mouth in profile.
“I don’t take cases in Wolf Creek.”
“Ah, I see.”
“And of course you couldn’t let the subject pass without commenting,” he said dryly, flicking her a sideways glance.
“Of course not,” she replied promptly. “I’m insatiably curious. So tell me, which do
you like best—bounty hunting or searching for missing persons?”
“Sometimes one, sometimes the other.”
When he didn’t elaborate, she sighed. “And that means…?” she prodded.
“That means people pay me to do both. And since I’m sure you researched my credentials and reputation before you hired me, you already know my agency does both.”
“I did check you out,” she acknowledged. “Most of the information I found was only about the Colter & McCloud Agency. There was very little personal detail about you or your partner. And the public data I found on the cases your company handled was all about recovering criminals for a fee after they’d skipped town. That’s why you’re called a bounty hunter, right?”
“That’s why we’re called bounty hunters,” he said dryly.
“So why do you look for missing persons? Is the money better?”
He laughed, a deep amused chuckle that shook her.
“No, the money isn’t better, at least, not normally. Every now and then, the client is rich so I charge a little more to compensate for the poorer clients.”
“That’s very benevolent of you.”
“Yeah, that’s me, all right—Mr. Nice Guy.”
“You’re making light of it, but clearly, finding and returning Lucy Watson wasn’t a small thing to her parents and their neighbor.”
“It’s never a small thing to the people on the waiting end,” he said. “That’s why I prefer people hunting to bounty hunting. Criminals on the run aren’t happy campers when they’re caught—I’ve been shot at, kicked, punched, raked with spurs, hit with swinging chains and bitten. It gets old fast. Missing persons aren’t always glad to see you, but their families are happy, so it all evens out.”
“Well, I think it’s a wonderful thing to do. When a loved one goes missing, people become desperate,” she said. “If you hadn’t agreed to help me look for Trey, I don’t know what I would have done.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. We haven’t found him yet.”
“But we will,” she said with conviction. “And when we do, I’ll be a very happy camper.”
“Let’s hope so.” He gestured at the map. “What’s the next stop?”
Raine picked up the map and traced their route. “Henderson, a little town about ten miles ahead.”
“I remember a small motel there with decent beds. We’ll spend the night and get an early start in the morning.”
The sun was setting by the time they left the highway and reached Henderson. The sole motel was circa 1950s, one story, with parking slots outside the rooms. They checked in and went to their separate rooms.
Raine dropped her bag on the floor and though it was early, she climbed into bed, exhausted by the long day and her worries about Trey. When she woke two hours later night had fallen. Only a sliver of pale moon relieved the inky blackness looming beyond the circle of pink cast by the motel’s neon Vacancy sign. No longer sleepy, she showered, put on shorts and a tank top, then switched on the TV.
She sat on the bed, propped against the headboard with pillows, and opened her journal to add notes detailing the day’s events.
It didn’t seem as if they’d progressed at all in their search, although she knew they were methodically covering the most logical route and places Trey may have stopped on that Friday night. She accepted it was necessary to eliminate all the possibilities but knowing Chase was being practical and thorough didn’t help her frustration.
She wanted results. Now. She wanted to know where Trey was and if he was safe.
She dropped her head into her hands. She hated that, although her connection to Trey told her he was alive, it couldn’t tell her where he was. Was he near, or far away? The only consolation was that she didn’t get a sense he was injured. Still, it was frustrating to know he was out there, somewhere, and she couldn’t find him.
Chapter Five
Chase phoned the sheriff’s office in Wolf Creek to report the name and location of the store clerk who recalled the incident with Trey’s SUV. After updating Ren in Seattle, he booted up his computer and ran his own scans for activity but once again, had no hits for information using Trey’s name.
Nearly two hours later, he and Killer left his room and paused outside Raine’s motel door while he debated whether to disturb her. The curtains were drawn across the wide window to the left of the door, lit by the glow of lamplight within. An hour earlier, the window had been dark and he guessed she’d fallen asleep shortly after they’d checked in. She was clearly awake now, though, since the muted sounds of a television were audible.
“Hell,” he muttered. Killer chose that moment to sit, leaning heavily against his leg and looking up at him expectantly. “All right, all right,” he told the dog. As long as Raine was determined to share in the search, he might as well let her join him in the routine questioning. Ren would tell me it’s part of keeping the client happy. He rapped on the door and waited.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Chase.”
He heard the rattle of the security chain and the snick of the dead bolt sliding free before the door opened.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. The night shift clerk comes on duty in five minutes. Killer and I are heading over to the office to show him Trey’s picture and ask the usual questions. I thought you might want to come along.”
She wore a pair of navy jogging shorts and a white tank top, her dark hair scooped up into a loose ponytail. Her face looked scrubbed and vulnerable, her eyelashes a black fringe framing gray eyes, her mouth soft, pink and bare beneath the muted glow of the light fixture mounted above the door.
He stuck his hands in his pockets to keep from trailing his fingers over the lower curve of her mouth and down the slim arch of her throat.
“Absolutely—let me get my shoes.”
Chase and Killer waited outside the open door while she took a pair of sandals out of the duffel bag and slipped them on. She grabbed her room key off the nightstand and rejoined him.
They set off down the walkway, past the row of rooms, toward the brightly lit office.
He stopped at a soft drink machine and shoved his hand into the front pocket of his jeans, taking out a handful of coins.
“Do you want anything?” he asked as he dropped quarters into the coin slot, then pushed the button for a Coke.
“I’d love a soda but I don’t have any change—my purse is back in the room.”
“No problem.” He inserted more quarters and a second can of Coke rattled into the tray. He handed one to Raine and popped the tab on the second one. He paused, staring at her mouth when she took a long drink, closed her eyes and licked her lips.
“Thanks,” she said appreciatively. “I’ll buy next time.”
“Right,” he got out, his voice thick as he fought down the urge to haul her back into her room and lick that same path across her lips with his tongue. He was fast becoming damn near obsessed with finding out what she tasted like.
They reached the office and found the solitary night clerk, reading a newspaper spread out on the counter.
“Evening, folks,” he said genially. “What can I do for you?”
Chase took Trey’s photo from his back jeans pocket and laid it on the counter. “We’re looking for a friend of ours. Do you recall seeing him within the last few weeks?”
The clerk peered inquisitively over the top of his half-glasses at them, then studied the photo. A frown creased his brow, then cleared. “Yes, I do.”
Raine caught her breath and Chase gave her bare forearm a brief squeeze, warning her to remain silent and let him question the clerk.
“Do you remember when you saw him—how long ago?” he asked, feeling the tension vibrating in Raine.
“Sure I remember, it was the night the big semi turned over out on the highway.” The clerk leaned forward, pointing out the window toward the clearly visible neon motel sign marking the exit. “Most excitement we’ve had around here in a long
while. There wasn’t a lot of traffic that Friday night, but what there was had to sit and wait for an hour or so, probably closer to two, until the tow trucks moved the semi out of the way.” He looked at them and grinned. “Damn thing was carrying a load of chickens. Biggest mess you ever saw.”
“Was our friend involved in the accident?” Chase tapped his forefinger on the photo.
“Him? Nah.” The clerk shook his head. “He was stuck behind the wrecked semi when the highway patrol closed the road. There were four or five trucks and cars held up. Most of the drivers hiked over here and I gave them coffee, some of them got soda and snacks out of the machines. Your friend stayed and talked for a while, said he was on his way to Billings. Seemed worried he might miss seeing someone there, I think he had an appointment, maybe.”
“Did he mention taking another route to Billings so he didn’t have to wait for the road to clear?”
“No.” The clerk shook his head emphatically. “He stayed here drinking coffee and shooting the breeze until the highway patrol and the tow trucks cleared the road. Then he left.”
“Did you see him again? Maybe he stopped in for coffee on his way back from Billings?”
“No. But I went off duty at 6:00 a.m. You might want to ask Maria if she saw him the next day—she works the six to noon shift.”
“Thanks, we’ll do that. Anything else you remember about your conversation on that Friday night?”
The clerk thought a moment, then shook his head. “Can’t say as I do—we didn’t talk about anything important, just chatted, mostly about boxing. There’s a heavyweight title match coming up next month.”
“Thanks for all your help,” Chase picked up the photo and tucked it back into his jeans pocket. “If you remember anything else about our friend, I’d appreciate you giving me a call.” He handed the clerk a business card. “Anytime at all.”
“Sure.” The clerk read the card and his eyes widened. “You’re Chase McCloud?”
“Yes.”
“This guy you’re asking about, is he wanted somewhere?” The clerk’s voice was animated.
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