Owen was back in a moment. “He says he’d like to go to Sedona and accompany you back, and I agree with him. I don’t want you to have to be by yourself anymore.”
“What about you? Will Ruby still be staying with you?”
“We haven’t had a chance to talk about it, but I think she has other things to worry about at the moment. Maybe I’ll go stay with my parents, or to a friend’s house. I could hire a bodyguard.”
Lizzy began to protest on general principles, then stopped. She really had no wish to make a return journey in the van by herself, and Andy could do all the driving. He probably wouldn’t have a problem getting onto an interstate, she thought ruefully.
“That sounds good,” she said.
“Oh. Good,” said Owen, obviously surprised at the ease with which she had agreed to his plan. “Where in Sedona are you?”
She got up from the kitchen table and wandered into the living room. “I’m staying at Philip’s house.”
“At Philip’s house?” His voice spiked again, this time with a different type of concern.
“Yes, Uncle Owen,” she said, “at Philip’s house, but he’s not here. He thought it would be a good place for me to stay because his friend Eddie, the ex-cop, is right next door.”
“Oh, right, that makes sense.” He paused. “Where is Philip?”
“He’s back in Arizona, too.”
“Really? How did he get there?”
“I don’t know all the details, but he got away from the person who got him out of the hospital.”
“What’s he doing in Arizona if he’s not in Sedona?”
“He has some things he needs to take care of here.”
Lizzy heard Andy’s voice again. “I say let’s leave Philip to take care of whatever business he has in Arizona, and get Lizzy back here ASAP.”
Lizzy flopped down on the couch in relief.
“Yes, let’s do that,” she said. “I can’t wait to see you guys.”
53
When Lizzy got up the next morning, she saw the news that she had been expecting: Tobe Hanrick was missing from the Williams Correctional Facility. She checked the locks on the doors and windows and peered out the small glass panes in the front door, comforted by the sight of Eddie’s big pickup parked on the street.
She spent the day napping, snacking on the food that Eddie had dropped off, and compulsively checking the status of Andy’s flight into Phoenix.
Around noon, the news reports flashed an update:
The body of Ivan Crane, a former associate and later rival of prison escapee Tobe Hanrick, was found by his wife in the basement of their home near Kingman, Arizona, at eight o’clock this morning. Crane and Hanrick, who escaped from the Williams Correctional Facility sometime between lights out last night and the wake-up call this morning, were locked in a struggle for control of the drug trade in Kingman when Hanrick was arrested in connection with the torture killing of University of Arizona student Sarah Pearson. Police are withholding the cause of Crane’s death.
Lizzy entered Kingman into her map app—almost three hours away from Sedona.
Her fingers itched to contact Philip—to find out where he was and what he was doing—but she remembered his caution to her as he had prepared to enter Louise Mortensen’s Pocopson home: not to call or text him. Maybe he was in just as dangerous a situation right now as he stalked Tobe Hanrick.
That evening, a former Hanrick associate turned informant was found hanging in a hotel room in Las Vegas. Two hours from Kingman, and in the opposite direction from Sedona.
As she made her tenth check of Andy’s flight status within the previous hour, she noticed that the phone’s battery icon was red, showing just a tiny sliver of remaining life. She sighed and went to where she had left her knapsack by the door. The power cord wasn’t in the pocket she usually kept it in. She checked the other pockets and inside the knapsack. No cord. She went through her other bags and even checked inside the Styrofoam cooler. Still no cord.
Maybe she had left it in the van. She went to the door and looked out. The sun had set, but the driveway was well lit by a floodlight and the van was only about thirty feet from the door of the casita. More important, she could hear the sounds of a party at the house next door, and some of the partiers had spilled out into the back yard just on the other side of a hedge, probably to have a smoke. If she could hear them chatting and laughing so clearly, they would certainly be able to hear her if she ran into trouble and called out.
And if someone actually attacked her, there was the squeeze. If she ran into someone in the driveway, she wouldn’t have to worry about a protective pane of Plexiglas keeping her from experiencing the emotions that would enable her to use her inborn weapon.
She stepped outside and scanned the area, but the floodlight didn’t illuminate much beyond the driveway itself. She locked the casita door behind her so that no one could slip in while she checked the van, then scurried to the vehicle.
She looked everywhere she could think of—between and underneath the seats, under and inside the sleeping bag, even in the space under the stowed back seats where the last of her dwindling supply of cash was hidden—popping her head up periodically to make sure no one had appeared from the darkness.
Finally convinced that the cord was not in the van either, she went to the door of Eddie’s house and knocked. Maybe he would have a cord she could borrow.
She waited a minute and knocked again, but there was no answer. Not that she should have expected one, she thought. As far as she knew, it wasn’t like Eddie had promised to stand guard over her around the clock.
She’d have to run to the store to get a cord—she couldn’t afford to be out of touch with Philip or Uncle Owen or Andy at this point. She went back in the house to get her knapsack.
Much to her annoyance, her phone died as she pulled out of the driveway, so she didn’t have a way to search for where to go to buy a power cord. She wasn’t aware of any Targets or Walmarts near Sedona, and a slow drive up the main tourist drag didn’t reveal any likely looking sources. After some pondering, she drove to one of the hotels just a few blocks from Philip’s house, pulled into a parking space in the lot in back, and went to the main desk.
“Excuse me, I lost the cord to my iPhone.”
“You came to the right place,” said the young man behind the desk with a laugh. Cute, she heard, and blushed. “We could open an electronics accessory shop if we wanted to.” He went into the back room and emerged a minute later with a box overflowing with cords. “Will one of these do the trick?”
Lizzy sorted through the cords. “Yeah, this one is like mine.” She glanced up at him. “I can’t tell for sure if it’s mine. Is it okay if I take it anyway?”
“Sure,” he said. “Not doing anyone any good sitting in our lost-and-found box.”
She returned to the van humming, pleased at her inventiveness and consoling herself that she hadn’t actually lied to the guy at the desk.
The night was dark, but the parking lot was well lit, and her nerves were soothed by the fact that she could hear the murmur of conversation from a car parked a few spaces away from the van. Perhaps someone speaking on their phone, since she could only hear one voice.
She slipped the key into the lock and was jiggling it to get it to turn when she heard the voice moving away from the car. She stopped the jiggling to listen more closely. The voice was approaching the van from the other side.
Her heart beating harder, she renewed her efforts to turn the key in the door lock. The voice—definitely a man—was getting closer. She would see him through the van windows in a second or two.
There was another sound as well—a faint thrumming sound—the source of which she couldn’t identify.
She glanced around, realizing that a lit lot was no safer than an unlit one if there was no one there to see her. But did she really need to be nervous? If someone were trying to sneak up on her, he would hardly be talking as he approached.
&nb
sp; She tried to force the key to turn, but it remained stubbornly unmovable. Her heart was hammering now, the man just on the other side of the van.
“This should be fun.”
Her fingers froze on the key as a sickening realization dawned on her. She turned toward where the man was stepping around the front of the van.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” said Tobe Hanrick.
Looking even better than I remembered, he thought.
She drew in a breath to scream, but two instincts stopped her. One was a lifetime of programming—by her parents, by Uncle Owen—to avoid attracting attention. The other was the idea that in a moment Tobe Hanrick was going to meet the same fate as her other victims.
Maybe she would be able to discharge her promise to Philip after all.
She stepped backwards, wanting to postpone the inevitable, and Hanrick stepped after her. The thrumming sound grew louder—actually more like a mutter.
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again,” he said with a grin.
She saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. An object flashed in front of her face and suddenly there was something around her neck.
“Don’t scream,” a voice hissed in her ear.
She couldn’t have screamed if she wanted to. The van key and power cord fell to the ground as she tried to get her fingers under whatever was around her throat, but it was too tight.
Tobe stood grinning at her, enjoying her panic.
Her heart was hammering from the shock of the encounter, but at any moment Hanrick and the man tightening the noose around her neck would collapse as blood vessels burst in their brains.
But the noose didn’t loosen.
On the contrary, it tightened as the man behind her used it to lift her to her toes.
Tobe bent to pick up the key and cord. Lizzy kicked out toward him, but she was too far from him, and the movement put more pressure on her neck. She kicked her heel back into the leg of the man who was strangling her.
“Goddamn!” he yelped and cinched the noose tighter. “Hurry up, Tobe!”
Tobe turned to the van door and inserted the key.
Her blood pounded in her ears. Her lungs strained in vain for oxygen. The darkness started to take on a dancing sparkle that wasn’t from the parking lot lights.
“Can’t get the goddamned key to turn,” she heard Tobe say, then, A car isn’t quite as good as a van for what I have in mind.
The last thing she heard before the sparkles turned to black was, “I’m not jacking around with this lock anymore—get her in the car. We’ll come back for the van later.”
54
The plane from Philadelphia landed in Phoenix about seven in the evening.
“Thanks for the restaurant recommendations,” said Andy to the flight attendant as they waited for the door to the jetway to open.
“Too bad you won’t be in Phoenix long enough to try them out,” she said.
“But I’ll have them for my next trip out here.”
She gave him a brilliant smile. “Yes—maybe it will be on one of my flights.”
Andy returned her smile. “I certainly hope so.”
The door opened and the passengers began filing out.
“Why do you bother flirting with women you’re never going to see again?” asked Owen, puffing slightly as he followed Andy up the jetway.
“You’re such pessimist,” replied Andy. “I might decide that Arizona is my new favorite vacation destination.”
Owen rolled his eyes.
“Seems like it’s your favorite destination,” continued Andy, “considering that you got all fired up about coming along.”
“I will be quite happy not to be making any return trips to the desert southwest once we get Lizzy back home.”
They arrived at Philip’s casita around ten o’clock. They were walking up the drive, past the main house on the property, when the rancher’s side door opened and Philip’s ex-cop landlord, Eddie, stepped out.
“Hi there, Eddie,” said Owen. “Owen McNally. You helped me out a couple of months ago when the security alarm went off at the house I was staying in off Coffee Pot Drive.”
“Sure, I remember you, Owen,” said Eddie, crossing the driveway and shaking his hand. “And this must be your brother.”
Andy put out his hand. “Andy McNally.”
“I don’t suppose you gentlemen know where Lizzy is?” Eddie asked tentatively, his forehead creased with worry.
Owen and Andy exchanged alarmed glances.
“We thought she was here,” said Owen.
Eddie shook his head and rubbed a hand over his head. “I expected her to be. I had to run out for a little while. Some renter was grilling on the deck and caught it on fire. When I came back, her van was gone, and she was gone, too.”
“You checked the casita?” asked Andy.
“Yeah. When I knocked and didn’t get an answer, I went in.”
“Can we see inside?” asked Owen.
“Sure.” Eddie led them into the casita. “I tried calling Philip’s cell but it went to voicemail.”
They made a quick search of the casita.
“No sign of a struggle,” said Andy with strained hopefulness.
“Jeez, I feel terrible,” said Eddie. “I figured she’d be fine as long as she stayed inside with everything locked up tight.”
“Certainly a reasonable assumption,” said Owen, who had his phone pressed to his ear. He looked at Andy and shook his head. “It’s going to voicemail.” In a moment, he said, “Lizzy, it’s Uncle Owen. Please call me as soon as you get this message. Love you.”
Andy ran his fingers through his hair. “Maybe she ran out for something?”
“Maybe,” replied Owen. “Why don’t we drive around, see if we can find her.” He turned to Eddie. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but if you see her before we do, can you ask her to give us a call?”
“Sure thing,” said Eddie. “Unless you’d like me to help look. I did it for a living for a lot of years.”
“I think it will be better if someone stays here in case she comes back,” said Owen.
They left Eddie standing in the door of the casita, his expression sober, his hands jammed in his pockets.
“Do you know what the van she’s driving looks like?” asked Andy as he unlocked the rental car and they climbed in.
“More or less—it’s pretty generic, as I recall. Hold on.” Owen got out his phone and pressed the speed dial for Ruby.
“Hello, Dr. McNally,” she answered.
“Hello, Ruby. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing well. I’m at my sister’s house, we’re preparing for the funeral. How are you?”
Owen gave her a brief rundown of the situation. “We’re going to drive around and see if we can spot the van,” he told her. “If you can give us the make and model, we can look it up and at least have a better idea of what we should be looking for.”
“I can do better than that. Lizzy had a little encounter with a guard rail after we left Philly, and I took a picture of it in case I needed it for the insurance. I’ll send it to you.”
Owen opened the photo, which showed the long silver streak down the side of the van.
“That should be easy to spot,” said Andy, looking at the photo over Owen’s shoulder.
They drove first to Philip’s office in Uptown Sedona, just a few blocks from the casita, then over to West Sedona where Owen and Lizzy had stayed. They checked the parking lot of the Sugarloaf Trail, and even went to both trailheads of the Thread-the-Needle Trail, although Owen found it hard to believe Lizzy would choose to go there, considering her encounter with the rattlesnakes at the Needle. Owen continued to try to reach Lizzy on her cell phone, with no luck.
“I guess we have no way to get in touch with Castillo,” said Andy.
“No.”
“Anyplace else we should check?” Andy asked.
“I can’t think of any place to stake out other than Philip’s house o
r his office.”
“We have Eddie keeping an eye on his house, so why don’t we go back to his office and you can keep trying to call her.”
“What if she’s not the one deciding where she goes?” asked Owen, his voice unsteady.
“It would be hard for someone to kidnap her, or to hurt her, without coming to grief himself,” said Andy.
Owen nodded, unconvinced.
As they approached the office, Andy said, “On the off chance that there are bad things afoot, we should probably park somewhere we can keep an eye on the office, but not right in front of it where we’d be easy to spot.”
“That makes sense.”
They parked about fifty yards from the office and settled in to wait.
55
Philip was cleaning the gun that Wayne had taken from Rey Viklund when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, although he hardly had to, since Lizzy was the only one who had the number.
“Hey, Lizzy,” he answered. “What’s up?”
“Lizzy? So her name isn’t Tracy Coates … or is ‘Lizzy’ just a little pet name you have for your girlfriend?”
Philip felt as if all his blood had been sucked into his heart.
After a moment, the familiar voice said, “What, cat got your tongue, Casal?”
“Hanrick,” he said, his voice leaden.
“You guessed it. And not behind bars anymore, as I’m sure you’ve heard. I had to make a quick trip up to Kingman to visit my good friend Ivan Crane, then I sent some buddies on to take care of some business in Vegas, but I had business of my own back in Arizona. I want to thank you for sending your friend Lizzy to me. We had such a nice chat when she visited me in prison, and now I’m so pleased to be able to meet her in the flesh.” His tone lingered horribly over the last word.
“How did you find her?” Philip asked.
“Some pretty young thing comes visiting, I’m curious who she is. I got a message to a guy on the outside—Clemson, maybe you remember him—and when she left after the second visit, he followed her. Turns out Miss Lizzy has a lot of people interested in her comings and goings. Clem noticed that he wasn’t the only person waiting for Lizzy when she left the prison—there was also a pretty blonde dressed all businesslike.”
The Iron Ring Page 23