Tracking Tahlula (Police and Fire: Operation Alpha) (On Call Book 3)

by Freya Barker

  “I bet. I’m sorry if we freaked you out. It’s just such a coincidence, we’ve been talking about you all month and boom, here you are. If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you to Durango? Are you vacationing?”

  I only hesitate for a moment before I answer. “Actually, I moved here a few months ago.”

  “Seriously?” Marya exclaims as she walks up with my coffee and a small plate with brownies. “That’s crazy.” She holds the plate out. “Brownie?”

  Ignoring the fact I just had breakfast, I take one. “This is good.”

  “How far along are you?” Kerry wants to know, and I quickly pop the last bite in my mouth.

  “Six months.”

  “First one?”

  I nod.

  We chat a little while I drink my coffee and come to find out Kerry has a little one and Marya has four kids. Christ, four kids, all boys, I can’t even imagine one. I was a little apprehensive at first—I don’t usually make friends easily and am a little gun-shy after my last ‘fan experience’ in Denver—but I soon find myself chatting away about books and babies.

  I lose the last of my reservations when I discover both Kerry and Marya are married to FBI agents. Now there’s some food for a book or two. I’m almost eager to get back home, finish Mens Rea, and start plotting some hot, sexy FBI plots.

  “You should come,” Kerry suddenly says, when I carry a few new books I’ve wanted to read over to the cash register.

  “The girls would get a kick out of that,” Marya adds, grinning.

  “What are we talking about?”

  “Book club,” Kerry explains. “Every third Tuesday of the month. It’s a small group, and to be honest, it’s as much about socializing and a glass of wine—or three—as it is about the books, but it’s always a good time. This coming Tuesday we discuss your book, and I would love it if you could make it.”

  I’m not big on socializing and I can’t have wine, but these women are seriously nice, and we’d be talking about my favorite subject; books.

  “Count me in.”

  7

  Tahlula

  A girl.

  I can’t believe I’m having a girl.

  I’m smiling like a fool as I leave the clinic.

  A daughter.

  Lilac and cream. Those will be the colors for the nursery. For a boy I would’ve picked sand and sky blue. Now I feel like I can buy paint, get going on the room, buy a crib, and whatever other necessities.

  Yesterday I finished my epilogue and cleaned up the manuscript before I sent it to Jaimie, because I knew today, one way or another; I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything other than this baby.

  I pull out my phone the moment I get in my SUV and dial Trunk’s number. I have to tell someone.

  “Y’all right?” My brother sounds like he’s in the pit stop at an Indy race, it’s so loud in the background.

  “Well, hello to you too,” I grumble. “And yes, I’m fine. More than fine. I just had my ultrasound, guess what I’m having?”

  “I fucking hope it’s a baby.”

  “You’re sucking the fun out of this,” I pout, wanting him to be as excited as I am. “I’m having a girl.”

  That is met with silence.

  “Trunk?” I prompt

  “Shee-it.”

  “That’s your response? Shit? You’re the first person I called and that’s what I get for it? You suck, Trunk. You really, really suck.” Blame it on the hormones, but my eyes fill with tears. I chose to go this path alone with my eyes open and my head on straight, but I don’t think I realized how lonely even happy moments could be without someone to share it with.

  “Come on, Sis, cut me a break. A girl means I won’t have a peaceful night’s sleep for the next twenty or so years.”

  “You’re being ridiculous, and sexist, but worse is you can’t even hold it back for one minute to be happy for me.”

  I don’t even wait for a response and end the call, dialing another number right away.

  “Hey, how are things? Did you get the books?”

  “Not yet.”

  “What’s wrong? Are you crying?” Jaimie’s voice is filled with concern while I try to get myself under control. “Tahlula, say something—you’re scaring me.”

  “It’s a girl,” I blubber. “I just found out the baby is a girl and my brother is an asshole.”

  “Oh wow, okay, let’s break that down, shall we? Baby girl first. Yay!” she squeals, making me feel a little better. “I’m so thrilled for you. I would’ve been thrilled either way, because boys are awesome too, but a girl for you is perfect. So yay!”

  “Thank you,” I mutter, somewhat mollified.

  “I wouldn’t know what to do about your asshole brother, but I’m online shopping as we speak for the cutest little girl outfit I can find. Do you have colors in mind? I got River this cool mobile for over his crib, and you can order it in any color combination you like. I’m getting one for you.”

  Jaimie’s excited chatter goes a long way to restoring my happy mood. “Lilac and cream, but you don’t have to do that.”

  “Ooo, that’s pretty. Of course I’m going to do that, I love looking for baby stuff, and shopping for girls is so much more fun! You’ve made my day.”

  After Jaimie makes me promise to keep her ‘in the loop’ and ends the call, my brother’s disappointing reaction is all but forgotten.

  My first stop is the Sherwin-Williams store.

  -

  When I head up the mountain two hours later, with four gallons of paint and two bags full of baby clothes and toys I picked up at Kids Rock on Main Avenue, I suddenly find myself in a blinding downpour. I’d noticed the darkening skies and hoped I could make it home before the rain.

  After weeks of warm, dry weather so early in the season the rain is welcome, but not when I’m out and about. Water is sluicing down my windshield, the wipers unable to keep up, and I can barely see the entrance into my driveway. Muddy water is running down the slight incline, making it look more like a river.

  I get a shock when the house comes into view and see boxes haphazardly tossed in front of the porch. My books. Ignoring the rain and the sudden flash of lightning, I slam the Lexus in park, turn off the engine, and dart out, heading for the closest box. The moment I try to lift it I know it’s no use. The cardboard almost disintegrates in my hands. Still, I carry it as best I can, spilling books, to the front porch. Fucking couriers.

  When I go back for the next box, the heavy rainfall seems to slow down. I’m carrying the third ruined box up on the porch when a Durango PD vehicle drives up to the house.

  “What happened?” Detective Blackfoot comes stalking toward me, plucking the soggy box from my hands and depositing it with the others.

  “UPS was supposed to leave the boxes on my porch. Clearly the driver was lazy.”

  I make to head back down when Blackfoot grabs my arm. “I’ll get them, you’ve got no business carrying heavy boxes.”

  I want to protest, but my lower back is hurting already. Luke is going nuts inside, hearing voices, so I quickly open the door to let him out. He darts through my legs, jumps down the porch, and checks out the detective before he starts sniffing around.

  Forty-seven books, that’s all that was salvageable out of the three hundred sent to me. As soon as I had the count, I called Jaimie, leaving her a message with the bad news. She can take it up with UPS; I don’t think I’m in the right frame of mind to be civil about it.

  “Where do you want the paint?” Blackfoot comes in carrying the four cans of paint he offered to get from the Lexus for me.

  I slump down on the couch, not caring I’m probably leaving a wet spot on the leather, and wave in the direction of the nursery. “End of the hall, the room on the left.”

  Two seconds later he’s back. “Nursery?”

  “It will be when I’m done with it.” I watch as he grabs a wooden chair from the kitchen table, swings it around, and sits, facing me. “Not that I don’t ap
preciate the help, but what brings you here, Detective?”

  “I received a phone call from Detective Thompson of the Denver PD this morning.” My breath sticks in my throat. “She was tracking a credit card charge for a return flight to Durango for a missing person she’s looking for.”

  “Lena,” I manage.

  “Lena Griffion,” he confirms. “Your agent, as I understand.”

  “She bought a ticket to come here? I don’t get it, when was she supposed to come?”

  “Ms. Rae,” he says carefully, leaning his elbows on his knees. “The airline manifest shows Ms. Griffion was on board that flight on May twenty-seventh, but she never made her return flight the next day. You never saw her?”

  “No, I didn’t.” Suddenly a horrible thought occurs to me. “Oh my God, you don’t think—”

  “Ms. Rae, we’re looking into every possibility. I have people contacting hotels to see if perhaps she checked in. We’re trying to locate the car we know she rented when she arrived. It’s too soon to assume the worst. Now, is there anything you can think of? Any missed calls—especially on May twenty-seventh?”

  I pull my phone from my pocket and dial voicemail, handing it over to the detective to listen to the second message I never erased. “There was an earlier one I automatically erased, but when I heard this one, I called the office and found out she was gone.”

  “What’s urgent that she needs to speak to you?”

  “I wish I knew. Jaimie—that’s her assistant—had no idea either.” I proceed to tell him everything I know from the moment I picked up those messages. “Detective, I don’t know what else to tell you.”

  “Call me Keith,” he offers unexpectedly. “I understand from Detective Thompson, there was an incident earlier this year Ms. Griffion’s assistant alerted her to. A report of a break-in at your house right after New Year’s?”

  The memory of coming home to find my condo ransacked still gives me chills. Nothing had been stolen, but my computer was smashed, as were the few personal pictures I had sitting out, and a framed copy of my New York Times best-seller listing. Thank God for the nightly backup to the cloud I scheduled after once losing an entire five chapters in a power outage. What had totally freaked me out were the words ‘Hell waits’ written in permanent marker on the wall above my bed.

  At the time, the police hadn’t seemed interested in the increasingly threatening messages I’d received before and were ready to chalk the break-in up to neighborhood kids wreaking havoc. According to them, mine wasn’t the first report they’d received about random vandalism in the neighborhood.

  “I’m surprised she’d bring that up,” I share. “The Denver Police Department didn’t seem all that interested before.” I tell him about the notifications on Messenger and details of the condition I’d found my place in, including the message left on my bedroom wall. “I got out of Dodge not long after that and moved here. I disappeared from social media and the messages stopped.”

  “Did they stop before, or after, the break-in?” he asks.

  I have to think back. “Sometime before Christmas if I recall correctly.”

  “Did you save the messages?”

  “I have screenshots I forwarded to the police.”

  “Would you be able to forward them to me?”

  I head over to my desk and boot up the computer, locate the images, and email them to the address he recites.

  “Appreciate it,” he says, moving the chair back in place before he starts walking to the front door. “Please call me if you think of anything else.”

  “I will and, Detective?”

  “Keith, please.”

  “Keith,” I concede. “Let me know if you find out anything else?”

  “I will. By the way,” he adds, turning to face me with his hand already on the door. “My wife, Autumn, and I had a son last year. There are some things Aleksander is too big for now; a bouncy chair, baby tub, and more stuff like that, if you’re interested.”

  “That’s very kind of you. I might be.”

  “Good. I’ll get Autumn to give you a call.”

  Evan

  I don’t get a chance to check my phone until we drag our asses into the firehouse after three consecutive calls: a structure fire, a kid found in a backyard pool, and this last one, a lightning strike about four miles north on Durango Cliffs Drive. A little too close to a few expensive houses along there, which is why Cap wanted to make sure there wasn’t a stray ember to be found before calling it a wrap.

  Since I have to wait for an available shower anyway, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and head back down and outside. Now that the sun has set, the temperature is nice and cool. I take a seat at the picnic table and check my messages. Just a text from Keith, asking me to call him.

  “Blackfoot.”

  “Sorry I didn’t get back to you earlier; it’s been one of those days. This a bad time?”

  “No. Give me one second.” In the background I hear his rumbling and Autumn’s voice, and then the sound of a sliding door before he comes back on the line. “It’s about Tahlula.”

  The hair on my neck stands on end.

  I’d gone over there on Wednesday, but she wasn’t home. Planned to go back yesterday, but Ma’s neighbor called, telling me she found my mother in the backyard. She’d tripped and fallen and couldn’t get up. Betsy is no spring chicken herself, so luckily she didn’t attempt to lift Ma, but called an ambulance instead, and then me.

  Of course Ma loudly objected when I told her she needed to get checked out at the hospital. Bella and Ryan, the EMTs showing up, who happen to be friends of mine, thought the interaction between Ma and me greatly amusing. Me…not so much. In the end we got her loaded in the ambulance and I followed in my truck. She hadn’t sustained any injuries—as she frequently reminded me of on the way home—but the whole incident had eaten up my day.

  “What happened?”

  “I left you that message because I was on my way up there to ask her some questions. I heard from Denver PD this morning, her agent has been missing for over two weeks and apparently flew into Durango the day she was last seen but disappeared without a trace. No hotel reservations and we can’t find the car she rented.”

  “You’re shitting me. Are you thinking the body?”

  “We’re looking into that, and for fuck’s sake, don’t mention it was a woman, Tahlula is freaked out enough as it is. Did she at any time tell you about the trouble she had in Denver?”

  “She mentioned something about being jumpy, but nothing specific—why?”

  “She received a few nasty messages late last year, and then someone left a distinct message in her apartment. Threatening enough to get her to pack up and move here.”

  “Does her brother know? Trunk? He stays with the Arrow’s Edge.”

  “Those guys rode out earlier this week. Something up in Grand Junction this weekend, probably won’t be back in town until the middle of next week at the earliest. Didn’t she tell you?”

  “Haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet,” I admit.

  “Fuck man, what the hell are you waiting for?”

  Good question. I don’t bother giving him any of the excuses, because if I’m honest with myself, I could’ve easily found time to go up there. I just didn’t.

  “Shit. I have ten hours left on my shift before I can get out of here.”

  “I’ve got a patrol unit driving by there a few times overnight, keeping an eye out. It’s all conjecture at this point, one may well have fuck all to do with the other.”

  “But you don’t think so,” I fill in for him.

  “I don’t think so,” he confirms. “And I know for a fact she’s freaked out.”

  “I’ll talk to Cap. See what I can do.”

  8

  Evan

  The barking of a dog wakes me up.

  I’m momentarily disoriented when I open my eyes and find myself staring at the steering wheel of my truck. A sharp rap on the window has my head
spinning around. Tahlula. I scramble to sit up in the seat I reclined at some point during the night and run a hand over my face.

  Jesus. So much for keeping an eye on the place.

  Cap let me go around midnight and I came straight here. The house had been dark, so I parked the truck at the side of the driveway, a fair distance away, just keeping an eye out. Apparently at some point fatigue won out.

  “What the hell are you doing out here?” There’s more than a hint of irritation in her beautiful rich voice.

  “Keeping an eye on things,” I mutter, unable to come up with any plausible excuse.

  She snorts. “In that case, don’t quit your day job.” Turning on her heel she starts walking back to the house. “Fresh coffee in the kitchen. Caffeinated for your pleasure. Help yourself,” she tosses casually over her shoulder.

  I hop out, leaving the truck where it is, and follow her up the drive.

  “I don’t know whether to be pissed or flattered.” I look up from the coffee mug I’m trying to fill without spilling, to find her eyes on me. “Pissed because it’s clear there’s some secret brotherhood thing going on here that has my brother, Detective Blackfoot, and you all on one telephone tree—and flattered because it’s clear you’re exhausted and still you sit outside my house to watch over me. Nobel, maybe even sweet, but horribly misguided since as you can see, I’m fine.”

  “Blackfoot called me.”

  “I figured either him or my brother. He was on the phone not long after your friend Blackfoot left. Spare me from overprotective men.”

  I take an enforcing sip and almost groan when the coffee hits my taste buds. That’s damn good stuff.

  “Protective, maybe,” I concede. “Blackfoot mentioned you were freaked, and with your brother out of town, I thought I’d make sure you were okay. Overprotective would be me knocking down your door in the middle of the night and dragging you down this mountain.”

  “You don’t even know me,” she sputters irritably.