Where Danger Hides

by Terry Odell

  Twenty awkward minutes later, they were on the 580.

  “I’m definitely going to have to get bigger jeans,” he mumbled.

  “What?”

  He cocked a grin. “You heard me.”

  She’d given up crossing her arms in his presence. He knew damn well what he did to her. “This might be a very long drive.”

  “I thought we’d stop for dinner, then find a motel and spend the night. No point in pushing it. I’m not expected until tomorrow. This way we can enjoy ourselves and be at her place by ten tomorrow morning.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or maybe eleven.”

  Eager as she was to see Nancy, her thoughts of a night in a motel with Dalton outshone everything else. “Sounds perfect.”

  “All right. Tell me how your meetings went.”

  Good. Back to reality. “Ended up being more of a combination speech, memorial and lecture. I caught the dinner crowd Monday and again Thursday. I hope they listened. Detective Braddock wanted to be there, but I convinced him he’d scare too many people away. I promised him I’d relay any information and promised everyone anonymity if they know anything or if anyone approaches them.”

  “Any takers?”

  She sighed. “Not yet. But I’m hoping the explosion scared them enough not to get mixed up in anything like that. I think it hit home with the residents.”

  “Let’s try to forget that for the next few days, okay?”

  “Yeah. The cops have the resources.” Deal with the living, she’d convinced herself. And enjoy some self-indulgence. As if he’d read her thoughts, Dalton sent a lopsided grin her way.

  “So, what have you heard from Nancy?” he asked. “You didn’t tell her you were coming, right?”

  She shook her head. “You told me not to. I haven’t talked to her except for one call after she got there. She’s probably running herself ragged trying to do everything at once. Set up the house, get a job—heck, maybe she’s got one already. Or created one. I can see her organizing a schoolroom in the garage or starting a daycare center.”

  “Two of a kind.”

  “I owe her everything. She’s the one person who was always there for me. So, yeah, I guess some of her rubbed off.”

  Strains of My Favorite Things drifted from the radio. She closed her eyes, swallowed by the melodious soprano saxophone.

  She sensed Dalton’s gaze. “John Coltrane. I get goose bumps listening to him.”

  He upped the volume and didn’t say anything until the song ended. The station broke for a commercial and she turned the radio off, angling in her seat to face him.

  “So, we’ve got hours of driving, and the scenery sucks. You hardly said anything on the phone last night. Spill, super-sleuth. How did you get Patterson to agree to a trip behind-the-scenes at his project? You went in as a rich investor, right? Mega-donor? ‘Let me peek and I’ll give you a kazillion dollars’?”

  “Nope. Too hard to keep a cover intact—he’d know all the players, have all the contacts. It’s better to stay on the outskirts, come from somewhere new. If he can’t find me, he’ll assume he doesn’t know where to look. It won’t send up the same kind of red flags.”

  “Are you worried about red flags?”

  His gaze drifted into space, then returned to earth. “Always. But I covered myself.”

  She waited. He seemed willing to talk, but not beyond the immediate realm of her questions. “Am I treading into forbidden territory?”

  His lips twitched. “No, not really. You’re in this with me. I’m not used to explaining my methods, that’s all.”

  “Well, if I’m in it with you, shouldn’t I know your cover?”

  Tension lines appeared in his brow. “It’ll be blown as soon as we get to your sister’s.” He faced her, wordlessly telling her he knew she’d have mentioned him to Nancy. Had undoubtedly pointed him out at the party.

  “I can talk to her. She’ll keep the secret.”

  He shook his head. “No point in making her lie to her husband over something that will probably blow over in a few days.”

  “But I’m confused. Why did you invite me along?”

  His eyes twinkled. “Aside from the obvious reason?”

  She was not going to last sitting in this ever-shrinking vehicle for five or six more hours. “Yeah, aside from that one.”

  “I’m working on it.” He reached for the radio.

  She intercepted his hand, trying to ignore the inevitable spark. “Please. Talk to me. Maybe I’ll come up with an idea or two.”

  After adjusting the mirrors and rubbing his neck, he asked, “How well do you know Hunter?”

  “Fairly well, considering. We don’t socialize all that much—don’t exactly run in the same circles. He’s—rich. Ultra-polite. Proper. Almost stodgy sometimes. But he loves Nancy, and Nancy loves him.”

  Dalton didn’t say anything.

  “You think there’s something fishy going on and he’s in on it?” She ran it through her brain, couldn’t fit Hunter Sanderson into that scenario. “He’s been married to Nancy for over three years. She knew him for at least two years before that. If he was doing anything illegal, she’d know. And I’d know. We can’t keep secrets.”

  He tilted his head. “I thought you said she could.”

  “From each other, I mean. For each other . . .” She remembered all the things she and Nancy had done. “That’s different.”

  “You don’t think she’d do the same for her husband? Even if it meant keeping something from you?”

  She chewed her lip as she considered that one. This wasn’t like the old days, when their very survival depended on them being close. The nights they’d shared a bed, or a mattress in an alley, huddled together for warmth. How they’d grown to know each other’s thoughts. As close as twins, despite the years separating their ages. She thought back to the night Nancy surprised her in her apartment. To the party at the Sandersons’. To the excited phone call when she’d arrived at her new place. She didn’t see Nancy that often anymore. Could her sister hide things from her? Face to face, Miri didn’t think so. But keep them out of her voice over the phone? She hated to admit it was a possibility.

  “I’d know,” she said to Dalton. “If she lied, or tried to hide something, I’d know.”

  His gray eyes left the road and bored into hers, as if he could see the inkling of doubt.

  “Easier not to lie to begin with,” he said. “Don’t have to think so hard.”

  How well she knew. “Then tell me what version of the truth we’re going to be using.”

  “Like I said, I’m working on it.”

  * * * * *

  Bits of conversation alternated with stretches of companionable silence. Dalton stole a peek at Miri, eyes closed, in the reclined passenger seat. They’d stopped for dinner before the L.A. snarl and crawled through the city outskirts without any unusual delays. He planned to spend the night at a quiet motel somewhere in the Beaumont or Banning area, which would give them time for some pleasant recreational activity and enough sack time to arrive with clear heads tomorrow morning. He sucked on a butterscotch and worked on the thermos of coffee he’d filled at the restaurant as I-5 stretched out in front of them.

  While Miri dozed, he ran choices through his mind. Normally, he worked with a team of trained field agents anticipating moves, getting in, attaining their objective, and getting out as a single unit. Miri asked the right question. Why had he invited her along? On an op, everyone had a job, an area of expertise. If it would take six people to get the job done, they sent six people. Not five. Never seven.

  Was he trying to earn points by giving her a chance to see her sister? Bullshit. Nancy had been gone one week. No, Miri did have something to offer. If Nancy or Hunter tried to hide something, Miri would know. Would she protect them? Could he read Miri after knowing her such a short time?

  On an op, he often had a split second to decide who he could trust, who he could believe. His instincts served him well. But another part of him weig
hed in where Miri was concerned. He shifted his eyes in her direction. She slept, twitching at the corner of her mouth from time to time. Was she was dreaming about tonight? He smiled, anticipating the night ahead. He let her sleep. Later, she’d be awake. He took another slug of coffee.

  The sky darkened, although dark was a relative term. City lights invaded, swallowing most of the stars. On his first sea voyage, out in the middle of nowhere, the thick blanket of stars filled him with awe. Here, it was nothing but headlights as the miles slid under his tires.

  Dalton tugged on his seatbelt, where it was getting far too acquainted with his bladder. Twenty miles to the next exit. He pressed harder on the accelerator. Miri stirred.

  “You okay over there?” he asked.

  “Fine. You got your plan yet?”

  “Rough draft. We show up. You have your sisterly reunion with Nancy. I’m going to trust you to get an overall feel for whether she thinks there’s something fishy going on.”

  “Like?”

  “You’re her sister. You said you can read her. Ask some basic, friendly questions. Is she happy? Is he happy? Is she picking up unusual vibes?”

  “Vibes? You want me to get out a crystal ball, or should we hold a séance?”

  He laughed. “You know what I mean. Does he disappear and not tell her where he’s going? Mysterious phone calls? How’s their financial situation?”

  She rolled her eyes. “And this is why you’re a super-sleuth?”

  No, he was a field agent, stuck pretending to be a super-sleuth. He adjusted the seatbelt again. “You created the title, not me.”

  “Okay, well what sleuthing have you done so far? You never told me what happened in Patterson’s office.”

  “Not much. I met him, suggested the company I worked for might be interested in sharing information—or paying for it. Planted a few bugs in his office and left.”

  “Bugs? Like spy stuff? That’s illegal.” Her eyes twinkled. “What did you find out? Aren’t you afraid he’ll find them?” She paused. “If he does, won’t he know you planted them? And then he’ll call Hunter and warn him.”

  Her excitement was intoxicating. “Slow down. First, he won’t find them. I took ’em out.”

  “But why? You only put them there a few days ago, right?”

  “Super-sleuth handbook, chapter five, section eight. If it’s gone, they can’t find it. Besides, I got what I needed.” Not much, but enough to know his cover hadn’t been blown, and Patterson was mildly interested in including Texas in his scheme.

  “I wish I could have been with you.”

  “No you don’t. It’s endless hours of waiting and listening. The range on those bugs isn’t far. Means you have to camp out somewhere close enough to pick up the transmissions but not be conspicuous. Boring.” And no place to piss. He yanked on the seatbelt again. Think about something else. Six more miles, according to his odometer.

  “So, how did you get the bugs out?” she asked.

  “Trade secret.”

  “Dalton! Tell me. Did you crawl in through the ductwork? Or do they self destruct?”

  God, he could eat her up. “I like that last idea. Maybe Research and Development will create it. No, I put on a pair of coveralls, carried a clipboard and walked in when Patterson and his secretary were at lunch.”

  She frowned. “Don’t they do that on TV?”

  “Super-sleuths get their best ideas watching television. Or maybe it’s the other way around.”

  The exit ramp came up at last, and he beelined for the first gas station.

  “Pit stop,” he said, wheeling into a slot near the restrooms, half out the door almost before he put the car in park. After he finished getting rid of what seemed to be the entire San Francisco bay, he splashed cold water on his face. Enough coffee. Another hour or so, and they could call it a night. The tired face in the mirror grinned at him.

  Someone pounded on the door. He opened it, surprised to see Miri. Her face was the color of pre-dawn fog.

  “We have to go. Now. To Nancy’s.” She spun on her heel and ran to the car.

  He raced after her, trapping her against the car door. “Slow down. What happened?”

  “I don’t know. But something’s wrong. Hunt called. We have to go.” She yanked on the door.

  “Okay, okay. Take it easy. Rushing into things without thinking isn’t the answer. First, let me gas up the car and you can explain. Tell me everything he said.”

  He swung over to the pumps. While the gas flowed, he cupped Miri’s face. Some color returned to her cheeks. He tilted her chin and brushed his lips against her forehead. She grasped his hands. Hers trembled.

  He worked free and gripped her shoulders. “Deep breath. You’re shaking.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right. Start at the beginning. I’m on your side, remember that.”

  She inhaled, exhaled, then met his eyes. “Hunt called. He didn’t say much, asked if I’d talked to Nancy lately. If we planned to get together. When I said I hadn’t, he said never mind. Then he hung up.”

  “And this is unusual?”

  “Dalton, he was scared. I’ve never heard him like that. His voice shook. He stammered. That’s not Hunter. Something’s wrong, and we have to get there. Something’s happened to Nancy. I can feel it. She’s not home, and Hunt was looking for her.”

  The fear in her face convinced him, but he knew he’d have done it anyway. Miri asked, he dropped everything and ran. “We’re out of here as soon as the tank is full.”

  “Can’t we fly?”

  He shook his head. “By the time we get to an airport and arrange a flight, we could be there. Plus, it might be handy to have our own wheels.” And his guns, which would require major airline hoop-jumping.

  “Okay. So, drive.”

  He replaced the fuel hose, ripped his receipt from the pump and got into the car. Miri was already buckled in. He twisted the key in the ignition. “Um . . . did you use the facilities? It’s going to be a couple of hours at least.”

  She nodded. “Before he called. Let’s go. Please.”

  “You know, we’ll probably get there, and Nancy and Hunter will be laughing about their crossed communications.”

  “I hope so. But it’s like there’s this huge hole in my gut that’s telling me she’s in trouble.”

  “So why wouldn’t Hunter tell you?”

  “I don’t know. He might be embarrassed to admit he doesn’t know where she is. In his circles, that would be airing one’s dirty laundry in public. He’s—proper.”

  “Okay.” He searched for the right words. “I have to ask this. Don’t get upset, please. Is there a possibility Nancy might be somewhere and not want him to know about it?”

  Even in the dim light, he swore Miri’s eyes flashed with indignation.

  “Like she was having an affair?”

  “That’s one possibility.”

  “She’s been there a week. I can’t believe she’d have met someone and cheated on Hunt that fast.”

  “And him? He’s been there longer. Do you think he might have met someone and Nancy found out?”

  Her answer wasn’t quite as fast coming back, but her “no” exuded confidence.

  He took a few breaths. “Does he treat her well?”

  She hesitated. “You think she’s running away—because—like Jillian? No way. No, no, no way.”

  He figured each “no” jumped about ten decibels. “I had to ask. Consider it one less thing to worry about.”

  “You might spend a lot of time checking on unfaithful spouses for your job, but it’s not that way for everyone. Nancy and Hunt have a great marriage. She was so excited about playing a part in his work, and if there were problems, he’d never have let her come along.”

  He paused, trying to ignore the blow to his pride. She thought he spent his time peeking into motel room windows. Better to let her think that than tell her what he really did. She’d accepted him as a private investigator. What would sh
e do if she knew the truth? To hell with reality. Time for that after they solved their current dilemma.

  “Makes perfect sense.” He changed lanes, overtaking a semi. The road was clear, and he increased his speed. “Next question. When he called, did you tell him we were a couple of hours away?”

  “No. He hung up before I said much of anything. Should I call him?” She held the phone in her hand, punching buttons and staring at the screen.

  He pondered her question. Although Miri’s instincts were probably spot-on, there was that remote possibility that Hunter Sanderson’s call had been a ruse—an alibi to show him as the caring husband, while he unburdened himself of a wife he no longer wanted. In a remote town, away from everyone she knew, an accident would be accepted much more easily than in the upper crust circles of San Francisco. Unfortunately, in his work, he saw the worst case scenario all too often. Ugly as it might be, considering those one-in-a-million chances saved lives more than once.

  “I think we should wait awhile.”

  Chapter 22

  Miri held the phone, Hunter’s number displayed on the screen. Her finger hovered over the send button. She stared at it while her mind untangled, then transferred her gaze to Dalton. The pain behind his eyes spoke volumes. She let the phone slip into her lap. “All right.”

  Outside, she watched each marker count down the miles, silently urging Dalton to go faster, faster. Her foot pressed the floorboard, pushing an imaginary accelerator pedal.

  “We’ll get there. Better if you relax.” Dalton’s voice, quiet and soothing, floated across the car.

  “My sister could be in terrible trouble, and you want me to relax?”

  “The hard part is knowing when there’s nothing you can do. And accepting it. Worrying makes you reckless. Reckless people make mistakes. Mistakes can get you killed.”

  She tore her gaze from the window and studied his face. There was something new there. He seemed totally—focused. Intent and relaxed at the same time. He drove, checked the mirrors, changed lanes when needed, almost as if he was part of the car. Yet his tone chilled her enough to make her shiver. Was there a death beyond his wife’s weighing on his conscience? Had it been his mistake?