Whisper of Warning

by Laura Griffin

  “Anyway, thanks for your work this week,” Pauline continued. “You’ve been a huge help with the film festival crowd. Hopefully, we’ll calm down a little before Thanksgiving, give you a chance to settle in.”

  Courtney smiled stiffly. Yet another thing that made her uncomfortable—talking about her future. If things went well money-wise, she’d be nowhere near Silver Creek by the time Thanksgiving rolled around. She had her next destination all picked out. Fiona’s passport would help her get there.

  Courtney returned to the restaurant, and the pace slowed down as tourists headed into the mountains to catch up on the hiking and fishing they’d missed due to yesterday’s rain. When her shift finally ended, she slipped her tips into her pocket, took off her apron, and left the inn behind her. She’d walk into town today. She needed groceries and a change of scenery. Living near her workplace was convenient, but stifling at times.

  Her boots sank into the soft earth as she plodded down the dirt road leading to the highway. The inn occupied a spruce-covered hillside overlooking Silver Creek Canyon. The view was spectacular—so good, in fact, it attracted travelers from all over. People would turn off Highway 25 to catch some scenery, then decide to stay a night. Then another. The canyon was magical like that—it could lure a person in. It had lured Courtney from the moment she’d seen it. She’d stood in the town’s tiny bus depot and gazed out the window at the narrow fall of water cascading down the wall at the far end of the canyon. She’d been mesmerized. And what had started out as a day trip from Santa Fe had turned into a three-week stay.

  Courtney was glad. It was better here. She felt safe, tucked away in the San Juan Mountains. And since she’d changed her mind about seeking work at a salon, she didn’t need proximity to those luxury resorts, anyway. Silver Creek was lower profile, a little farther off the beaten path.

  The dirt road met the highway, and the town of Silver Creek came into view. Her pace quickened as she planned out her errands. First, the grocery. Then the bookstore. She needed another travel guide, and she wouldn’t mind a new magazine to keep her busy this evening. Her tiny room didn’t have a television, or even a decent view. But it had privacy, which was just what Courtney wanted.

  She stopped at one of the town’s three traffic lights and waited. No more jaywalking, as even the most minor brush with law enforcement could become a problem. She rolled her shoulders to ease the soreness. She’d stop by the drugstore, too, and pick up a heat patch. She was used to being on her feet all day, but those trays were killing her. Her arms felt like noodles.

  She remembered Will’s arms, and her gaze shifted from the grocery store to the gas station where she’d stopped yesterday to call Fiona. She realized now why Alex had been so adamant about not making calls. They were addictive. Just a few minutes of her sister’s voice, and she wanted more. She wanted to talk to Jordan, too. And Will. And even Amy.

  The light changed, and she crossed the intersection. She especially wanted to talk to Will. But the last time she’d heard his voice, she’d started aching inside, and the feeling had persisted for days. She couldn’t do that again.

  Especially not now. Not with a warrant out there, and Will sworn to uphold the law. He felt something for her, but whatever it was didn’t trump his commitment to his job. She knew that. She could deal with it. Just like she could deal with walking away from him and whatever crazy thing they’d started at his house that night. It was one night. It was over.

  It wasn’t love.

  At least, she didn’t think so. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible to love someone after just a few weeks. After just one night.

  What she felt was loneliness.

  She thought of his solid body under her hands. She thought of his hands.

  Loneliness. With maybe some lust mixed in.

  Courtney cut a glance at the pay phone. Her feet slowed. It was late afternoon, almost evening in Texas. Just one phone call…

  Not a trace, Alex had told her. Not a single trace, or you’re blown.

  Courtney tore her gaze away and kept walking.

  Some clients were a hell of a lot more trouble than they were worth. Courtney Glass was quickly turning into one of those clients.

  Alex watched on her video monitor as Nathan Devereaux strolled though the door to Lovell Solutions and gazed directly into her security cam. He smiled slightly. She murmured a phrase that was sure to make her grandmother roll in her grave.

  By the time she stepped out of her office and into her reception room—which hadn’t improved since Courtney’s visit—she had her arms crossed and her mind made up. She’d tell him nothing.

  “Mornin’.” He gave her the full smile now, along with the accent. It wasn’t a Texas accent. She hadn’t placed it yet, but it was definitely someplace in the South.

  “You’re wasting your time here,” she said. “I won’t divulge the whereabouts of my client.”

  He lifted an eyebrow and wandered over to the Mr. Coffee. “Mind?” He took an NPR mug from a box she hadn’t finished unpacking and poured himself a cup.

  “I’m not here about Courtney.” He propped a shoulder against the wall and looked at her.

  “Why are you here?”

  He took a sip. Nodded. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “Why are you here, Detective? I’ve got work to do.”

  “I bet you do. You must stay busy, huh? Woman with your skills?” His gaze roamed the room, pausing on the enor mous computer box that had been delivered yesterday. She was in the process of upgrading all her systems.

  “I make a living,” she said.

  “You use a lot of computers?”

  She shrugged. “They come in handy. If you know what you’re doing.”

  He took another sip. “I’m not much on computers, myself. Spend most of my time out in the field.”

  She wasn’t surprised. Nathan Devereaux struck her as a talented detective. At the very least, he had a way with people. She’d guess he got most of his leads by conducting face-to-face interviews, not mining databases or cruising the Net.

  “Why are you here?” she asked for the third time.

  He pushed off the wall and stepped closer until she was looking right up into his face. Alex was short, and it didn’t take much for a man to tower over her. She’d learned not to let it intimidate her.

  He smiled. “You’re very businesslike.”

  “I’m running a business.”

  “So I noticed.”

  He was standing so close, she could see the flecks of gray in his blue eyes. His hair was dark and scruffy and just the kind she’d like to run her fingers through during sex.

  “I have a challenge for you,” he said.

  She lifted an eyebrow in question.

  “It’s a skip trace.”

  “Why don’t you do it?” she asked. “You’ve probably got better resources than I have.”

  “Possibly. Thing is, I have no time. Zero. It’s for a case that isn’t even mine, really.” He glanced around her office. “And I have a feeling you’d do it quicker than we would anyway.”

  She tried not to feel smug, but he’d given her some nice compliments in the space of five minutes. All part of his charm, probably. “Who is it?” she asked.

  “Lindsey Ann Kahn. Thirty-five. Single. She’s a junior partner over at Wilkers and Riley.”

  “She worked the LivTech trial with Alvin.”

  He nodded.

  “You didn’t tell me you weren’t on that case.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a technicality, really.”

  She crossed her arms. “It’ll cost you a thousand dollars.”

  He whistled. “You’re steep.”

  “Take it or leave it. I’ve got more than enough work.” Actually, she didn’t at the moment, but he didn’t need to know that.

  He took another gulp of coffee and looked pensive. “I’ll take it. But for that price, I need a quick turnaround. She was last seen Friday afternoon leaving work. Her car was parked
at her health club as of Friday night. She wasn’t seen or heard from all weekend. I need to know where she went.”

  “What if she’s dead?”

  “That’s entirely possible. But she might have gone someplace on her own steam.”

  Alex had to admit, she was intrigued. And a thousand dollars would do wonders for her bottom line this month. She’d given Courtney Glass a bargain-basement rate because she’d liked her spunk and felt bad about her predicament. She shouldn’t have been so soft.

  “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  He nodded, as if he’d expected this. “Good. I’ll check back in twenty-four hours, see what you’ve got.”

  “That’s not a lot of time.”

  He smiled and handed her his empty mug. “Should be plenty for you.”

  When he was gone, she stood in the middle of her reception room and decided it was time to get serious. She was charging someone a thousand dollars for probably a day’s work. It was time to get her act together and start looking professional. The office decor could wait, but she needed her new computer up and running pronto.

  She found a utility knife in a crate of office supplies and cut open the cardboard box. It was packed in pieces of Styrofoam, of course. She pulled at the giant block. It didn’t budge. She tugged and wrestled with it, but nothing moved. She turned the box on its side and heard the door open behind her. Devereaux must have forgotten something. He could lend her a hand with this damn thing.

  She turned around. The man standing in her doorway wore a ski mask. In his hand was a Sig Sauer, just like the one Alex had stashed in her desk drawer.

  About twenty feet away.

  She tried to speak, but her voice wouldn’t work. Her heart galloped in her chest as she looked at his gun.

  He turned and locked the door, and she slipped the utility knife into her back pocket.

  He crossed the room and shoved her roughly into her office and into a chair. Bloodshot gray eyes peered through the mask at her.

  “We can do this hard or easy,” he said. “Your pick.”

  She felt the bulk of the knife in her pocket. She had to time this right or—

  “Where’s Courtney Glass?”

  “Who?”

  His fist connected with her cheek, and her teeth rattled. “That was my left hook. You wanna try my right?”

  Tears stung her eyes, and she felt dizzy. Shocked. She tried to think. “I don’t know—”

  The butt of the pistol drew back. She jerked sideways, but the blow came anyway, and her world went black.

  Will left his Suburban at a campground on the outskirts of town and hiked in through the forest that blanketed the canyon’s southwest side. A stranger in a dinged-up battle cruiser of a car would attract attention, and attention was something he did not need at the moment. Just about everything he’d done in the past two days was, if not illegal, something that could get him fired. But Will was Special Forces before he was a cop, and the teams had their own MO. It called for knowing the mission, adapting, and breaking the rules when necessary, provided you had a damn good reason.

  And snatching Courtney out of a killer’s sights was a damn good reason.

  Will picked his way through a dense thicket of vines on the forest floor. He moved among the ponderosa pines, pinions, and junipers—all trees he knew well from training ops conducted in the Colorado Rockies. He could hide in these woods for days, not making a sound or leaving a trace, as he waited for his target to appear. He could, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to. His equipment at present included a Glock, a cell phone, and a PowerBar, and his truck was paid up at the campground for two days.

  This wouldn’t take two days, though. Two hours maybe, if he guessed right. It was two o’clock on a Monday. Whatever Courtney did in this town, she probably did it during the day, which meant her shift likely ended in the late afternoon or evening. Unless she was a waitress, in which case she might go on about that time, but if so, she’d have mornings free, and he’d catch her tomorrow.

  Money was key. He wondered how she was getting it. The amount she’d had when she left Austin wouldn’t have gotten her far, so she would have taken a job by now—probably something cash-only. Will had checked with the state board, and Courtney hadn’t applied for a New Mexico cosmetology license, or applied to have hers transferred. So if she was working in a salon, she was doing it illegally. But he didn’t figure she’d do that, not after all the effort she’d made to cover her tracks. He figured she was doing something low profile, maybe cleaning hotel rooms or waiting tables. Or maybe she’d shacked up with some rich family whose kids needed a nanny, although that was doubtful. That sort of job required references.

  Will chose his steps carefully. It had rained recently. The ground felt spongy and unreliable, and it took extra effort not to leave footprints everywhere. He probably didn’t need to be so cautious, but the training was ingrained.

  He hiked uphill, then down, descending the steep slope that hugged the town’s main road. Through the trees, he glimpsed all the predictable marks of moneyed civilization: a sporting goods store with fly-fishing rods in the window, a coffee shop, a gift boutique with a sale on turquoise jew elry. He walked another fifty yards, until he saw what he was looking for: a grocery store—the town’s only one, if his research proved accurate. And a gas station. It had a pay phone out front, a phone Will had made inquiries about yesterday under the pretext of being a repairman.

  Will glanced around until he spied a fallen log concealed by a layer of branches. He eased himself behind the cover and checked the view. He could see the phone, the coffee shop, and the entrance to the grocery store. If Courtney was within ten miles of here, he predicted she’d stop at one of those three places before sundown. And if she didn’t, he’d watch for her tomorrow, maybe nose around a bit. He had her picture in his pocket, but he intended to save it for a last resort. She’d probably altered her appearance since she’d left Texas, and an out-of-towner flashing around a picture was sure to generate gossip.

  Will took a deep breath of damp, forest air and checked his watch. He had a good five hours before dusk, although the woods would go dark before everything else did.

  Hurry up and wait.

  Feeling like a soldier for the first time in years, he blended himself into the foliage and settled in.

  Alex opened her eyes and winced. Too much light. Stabbing pain. She closed her eyes again and tried to think. Her head felt swollen. Her lip stung.

  She braced herself for the pain and tried again. She squinted at the brightness and scanned her surroundings. Was he here? Was she alone? Where was she, anyway? Her gaze fell on an overturned box of files, and she realized she was in her office. A tornado had hit. She was on the floor, on her side, surrounded by the wreckage that had once been her desk.

  She sat up and wanted to puke. She closed her eyes until the feeling passed, and when she opened them again, things looked worse. Everything was topsy-turvy. Her computer was gone. Her computer. The whir of the ceiling fan overhead made her notice the relative quiet.

  She was alone.

  Her arms throbbed. They were secured behind her. She tried to pull them apart, but they were bound with something.

  Alex blew out a breath. She tried to think of a plan. She knew, instinctively, that she shouldn’t stand, so she maneuvered onto her knees and let herself sit there a moment, adjusting to the new position.

  Her head hurt. A lot. Her arms, too, but she didn’t think they were broken. Her gaze moved over the carnage of her office and landed at last on the black desk phone sitting upside down on the floor. Slowly, painfully, she made her way over to it on her knees. Then she flipped the phone over and stared down at it. Her brain felt fuzzy. She looked at the numbers for a moment, turned her back to the phone, and craned her head around so she could see to dial. She punched speakerphone as the call connected.

  “Nine-one-one. Please state your emergency.”

  “Um…” She looked around. “I’m at my office. I�
��ve been attacked.” Her voice broke as she realized she could be dead right now. She muddled through the details with the operator. Then she disconnected.

  Help was coming. She was alive. But the shaking was worse now, like her body was waking up and realizing what had happened. She glanced back at the phone again. She remembered Nathan calling, nearly a month ago, looking for Courtney Glass, just like the ski-mask guy. Twisting herself around again, she found the arrow button and searched through the call history. She got to the right date and found the digits. She pressed Redial and then Speakerphone and waited.

  “Devereaux.”

  She couldn’t talk.

  “Hello?”

  “Nathan?” Suddenly her cheeks were wet and her nose was running. She couldn’t get her hands up to wipe away the snot.

  “Alex? What’s wrong?”

  She took a deep breath and tried to get control. “He was here—”

  “Who?”

  “That guy. Looking for Courtney. He took my computer and—”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Yes. No. Not too bad, I think—”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Will shook off the drowsiness. He checked his watch. Three hours, and no sign of Courtney. He shifted, ever so slightly, and got the blood flowing in his legs. The lack of sleep was taking a toll. Since getting his hands on Fiona’s phone, he’d been occupied nonstop, first running down the pay phone lead and then with driving his ass across Texas and New Mexico. A plane would have been faster, but he hadn’t wanted a paper trail. So he’d driven. And driven. And now he could barely keep his eyes open.

  Focus. He forced his attention back to the coffee shop, the most popular destination in town, evidently. Another baseball cap guy walked out carrying an overpriced drink, and Will added a notch to his mental tally. Coffee shop, nine. Grocery store, seven. Gas station, four. Pay phone, zilch.

  His phone vibrated, and he checked the number. He weighed the risk of talking to Devereaux versus the benefit of gaining information.

  “Yeah,” he said quietly.