by Cindi Myers
Her eyes met his, and he felt that zing! of heat again. This was such an ordinary conversation, in a sunlit kitchen on a late spring afternoon, nothing stronger than water at hand, and yet it felt intimate, as if they were confiding deep secrets.
The doorbell rang, the chime overly loud in the stillness. “Are you expecting someone?” he asked.
“No.”
He followed her to the front door. A woman dressed all in brown, like a UPS delivery person, but without the brown truck, stood on the top step. “Are you Audra Trask?” she asked Audra.
“Yes.”
“This is for you.” The woman pressed a large white envelope into Audra’s hands. “You’re being sued. All the details are in that packet.” Not waiting for a response, the woman turned and walked away.
Audra held the envelope by the edges, staring at it as if afraid it might bite. Hud eased it from her hands. Audra’s name and address were neatly typed on the label affixed to the front, but there was no return address. “Do you want me to open it?” he asked.
She shook her head and took the envelope from him, then tore open one end. She pulled out the papers and studied them. He leaned closer and read the ten-point legalese.
“Terrell, Davis and Compton are suing me,” she said. “Me and my father. For fraud and libel and misappropriation of funds, and a lot of other legal terms I’m too stunned to make sense of right now.” She shoved the papers back into the envelope. “Or ever. None of this makes sense. If my father did all the things they said he did, then fine, sue him. But I didn’t have anything to do with any of it.”
“Let me see that.” He held out his hand, and she gave him the envelope. He read through the papers. “I’m not an attorney, but it appears to me they’re saying you have knowledge of your father’s dealings that you refuse to divulge. They’re suing, I think, in an attempt to get you to tell what you know.”
“I don’t know anything,” she said. “Why does TDC think I do?”
“I don’t know.” Was this an especially bold gambit on TDC’s part, or merely a desperate one?
“Maybe this isn’t about what TDC wants you to reveal,” he said. “Maybe it’s about what they think you know that they don’t want you to say.”
She pushed her hair back from her forehead, a distracted gesture. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“Everything TDC is doing—the charges against your father, the big reward, the publicity—those are the actions of an organization that is desperate to find your father.”
“Because they want to stop him from talking?”
“I could be wrong, but I think so.”
Most of the color had left her face, but she remained strong. “That sounds dangerous,” she said. “A lot more dangerous than diapers.”
“You don’t have any idea what TDC might be worried about?” he asked. “It could even be something your father mentioned to you in passing.”
“He didn’t talk to me about his work. He knew I wasn’t interested.”
“What did you talk about?” Maybe the answer lay there.
“What I was doing. What was going on in my life.” She shrugged. “Sometimes we talked about music, or movies, or books. Travel—that was something we both enjoyed. There was nothing secret or mysterious or having anything to do with TDC.”
“If you think of anything else, call me.” It was what he always said to people involved in cases, but he hoped she really would call him.
“I will.” Did he detect annoyance in her voice?
“What will you do about the lawsuit?” he asked.
She looked down at the white envelope. “I’ll contact my attorney. The whole thing is ridiculous. And annoying.” She shifted her gaze to him at the last word. Maybe a signal for him to go.
“I’ll let you know if I hear any news,” he said, moving toward the door.
“Thanks.”
“Try not to worry,” he said, then added, “I’ll protect you.” Because it was the right thing to say. Because it was his job.
Because he realized nothing was more important to him at this moment.
CHAPTER FOUR
Audra was eating breakfast the next morning when her doorbell rang again. Heart in her throat, she tiptoed to the door, half expecting to see the brown-suited woman again, delivering another sheaf of dire-sounding legal documents. The first set sat on a table by the door. Audra would need to contact her attorney about them, but for now she was treating them like something contagious.
The man who stood on the steps wore a dull green windbreaker, jeans and dark blue athletic shoes, and had sandy blond hair that hung past his shoulders. He smiled at the peephole. “Is this Audra Trask’s place—the woman who runs Canyon Critters Daycare? I’m sorry to bother you at home, but this was the only time I could see you.”
A parent, she decided, relief flooding her. She undid the chain and opened the door. “What can I do for you?” she asked. “Do you have a child at Canyon Critters?”
“It’s Roy,” he said. “Roy Holliday. Can I come in?”
The name sounded familiar. Maybe he had recently put in an application. She opened the door a little wider. “If this is about a new admission, I’m afraid we won’t have any new openings until we move into our new facility this fall.”
He slipped past her, into the house. “Excuse me,” she said, flustered by the move. “What is it you want?”
“You have the contract for the space next to the new elementary school, don’t you?” he asked.
“That’s right. Is this about a new enrollment?”
“Not exactly.” He looked around her small home as if he were taking notes.
“Then why are you here?” she asked.
“Did your father help you get the contract at the new school?” he asked. “Since TDC is building that facility and he worked for them?”
“My father? Who are you? Why are you here?” She grabbed her phone off the table by the door. “You need to leave or I’m calling the police.”
“You invited me in,” he said. “You can’t call the police.”
“Oh, yes, I can.” Hands shaking, she dialed 911.
He took the phone from her. “Don’t do that.”
She ran into the kitchen. He followed, not running, but walking fast enough to catch up. By the time he reached her, she stood on the other side of the room, a large chef’s knife in her hands. “Oh, don’t be like that!” he protested. “I just want to talk to you. I’m a reporter. I’m working on a story about your father.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said. “You need to leave.”
Instead of leaving, he leaned back against the counter and took out a notebook. “What was it like, growing up as Dane Trask’s daughter?” he asked. “Did he take you hiking in Black Canyon National Park with him? Did you have any idea he was planning to disappear this way?”
“Leave!” she shouted. What had he done with her phone?
He ignored her, scribbling in his notebook. He studied the pictures on her refrigerator. “Hey, is this you, with your dad?” He plucked a photograph from beneath a magnet, one that showed her and her dad together two Christmases ago.
“Put that back!” she said.
He laid the photograph on the counter, pulled out his phone, took a picture, then turned back to her. “You don’t look that much like your dad. I assume you take after your mother. What was she like? How did it feel, knowing your parents never married?”
Audra looked at the knife in her hand. She might defend herself with it, but she wasn’t going to walk up and stab this guy—even if that might be the only way to make him leave. He was twice her size, so she couldn’t shove him out the door. He clearly wasn’t afraid of her.
If he wouldn’t leave, she would. She walked out of the room and collected her purse and briefcase
from the table by the sofa. She found her phone on the back of the sofa, but instead of dialing 911, she punched in Mark Hudson’s number. “There is a man here who says he’s a reporter and he refuses to leave,” she said. “He says his name is Roy Holliday.”
“What’s he doing?” Mark asked.
“He’s standing in my kitchen, making notes.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m really annoyed. If I opened the pantry and started throwing cans of soup at the guy, would that really count as assault? I think that might persuade him to leave.”
“Don’t do anything. If you’re uncomfortable, go out and sit in your car with the doors locked.”
“I’m not going to leave him alone to wander around my house at will,” she said.
“I’m on my way.”
He ended the call, and she tucked the phone in her pocket and headed back to the kitchen. “Mr. Holliday!” she called. “You had better not be snooping in my cabinets.”
But Holliday was gone. The back door stood open, and the only other sign that he had been there was the photograph of her and her father, lying on the counter by the refrigerator.
* * *
HUD RAN HOT all the way into Montrose, lights and sirens clearing his path down the highway. When he hit the city limits, he slowed and shut off the fireworks, aware that he was no longer in his jurisdiction. Better not to alarm the locals, unless he needed their help.
He parked at the curb in front of Audra’s house, and she met him at the front door. “He’s gone,” she said. “When I got off the phone with you, he wasn’t there. The back door was open, so I guess he went out that way.”
“How did he get into the house?” Hud asked.
She flushed. “I let him in, sort of. I was holding the door open to talk to him and he just slipped past. He caught me off guard. I thought he was a parent wanting to talk about enrolling a child in school. I mean, I jumped to conclusions, but he let me believe them.”
“Audra!”
“I know, I know. It was very stupid of me. But he looked so harmless. And he was, I guess.” She led the way back into the house. “I tried to call you back and let you know you didn’t need to come all the way out here, but your phone went to voice mail.”
“I was driving.”
“Oh. Right.”
“What did he do while he was here?” Hud asked.
“He looked around. He asked a lot of questions about my dad. I didn’t answer them. He took a picture of a photograph of the two of us that I had on my refrigerator.” She rubbed her shoulders. “It was calm and kind of ridiculous and really creepy, too.”
“Don’t let anyone else inside who you don’t know,” Hud said.
She nodded. “I know. It’s just—this whole situation is so bizarre. My father, the lawsuit and everything.”
“Have you talked to anyone about that lawsuit?” he asked.
“I have an appointment with my lawyer this afternoon.” She checked her watch. “And I really have to go. Thank you for rushing all the way out here.”
“I never mind an excuse to see you.” He turned toward her. “You could make it up to me by having dinner with me tonight.”
That blush again, her cheeks rose pink, her eyes bright. “Officer Hudson, are you sure...”
“Like I said before, call me Hud. Everyone does.”
“All right. Hud. Are you sure it’s, well, ethical to get involved with someone who’s part of a case you’re working on?”
“You’re not a suspect or even a witness to a crime. You’re the daughter of a missing person we’re searching for.”
“That’s all my father is to you—a missing person? Not a desperate fugitive or a fleeing criminal or any of the other descriptions I’ve seen on the news?”
“He’s a man who went missing in our jurisdiction, so we’re trying to find him.” He also might be a fugitive and a criminal, but they didn’t know that yet. There were a great many rumors circulating about Dane Trask, but thus far Hud had seen very little proof of anything truly criminal about the man.
“Thank you for saying that, even if it’s not true.”
“Does that mean you’ll have dinner with me?”
“I’ll think about it.”
He’d have to be satisfied. She picked up her purse and briefcase. “I’ll walk out with you.”
She locked the door behind him, then he followed her to her car. As she opened the driver’s-side door of the black RAV4, she froze. “I know that wasn’t there last night,” she said.
Hud moved around her to examine the note tucked under the driver’s side windshield wiper. He slipped on a pair of gloves, then carefully lifted the note from beneath the wiper blade and spread it out on the hood of the car. Audra leaned in beside him, pressed against him as they read.
You need to be careful who you talk to, or you’ll be next.
* * *
“THE NEXT WHAT?” Audra asked for the third time as she sat across a table from Hud, Officer Beck and a woman who introduced herself at Officer Redhorse at the Ranger Brigade headquarters. Reluctantly, she had agreed to come here and give her statement before going into work. She had telephoned Brenda and let her know she would be late, though she had avoided her assistant’s attempts to find out why.
“The next person hurt?” Officer Redhorse suggested.
“The next person to disappear?” Beck offered.
“You’re not making me feel any better about this,” Audra said.
No one pointed out that it wasn’t their job to make her feel better, so she was grateful for that, at least. Hud was trying to soothe her frazzled nerves. She remembered him saying he had become a cop because he wanted to help. She was beginning to believe that. “Could Roy Holliday have left that note?” he asked.
“Why would he?” she asked. “He got into my house and was talking to me. He didn’t even have to threaten me to get me to let him in.” The more she thought about the way she’d behaved with the reporter, the more like an idiot she felt.
“Maybe he wasn’t sure he’d get you to let him in, so he left the note before he rang your doorbell,” Beck said. “Did you see where he was parked?”
“No.” She paused, trying to re-create the scene in her head. “I looked out the peephole and he was standing on the steps. He apologized for coming to my house so early and said he needed to talk to me. I asked if it was about a student and he didn’t say no.”
“You say he left out the back door,” Officer Redhorse said.
“When I returned to the kitchen, the back door was open and he was gone,” she said. “I didn’t actually see him leave.”
“Did you hear him leave?” Beck asked.
“No. I was on the phone with Hud—with Officer Hudson. I wasn’t listening.” She should have been listening. What if he had tried to sneak up behind her? “Why don’t you call him and ask him about the note?” she asked. “If he’s a reporter, you should be able to get in touch with him.”
“He hasn’t answered my calls,” Hud said. “I left a message.”
“He probably thinks you’re going to give him a hard time about being at my house,” she said. “He won’t call back.”
“Who else would threaten you?” she asked.
“No one,” Audra said. “I run a day care center. I don’t make enemies.”
“You have employees,” Beck said. “Are any of them upset with you? Are any parents angry?”
She thought of Jana, who resented taking direction from a younger woman. But Jana was a good, dedicated teacher. In her shoes, Audra might feel the same. Jana had had a successful day care of her own that she had had to give up when her husband transferred. Now she was working for a much younger woman, used to making her own decisions but unable to do so. So yes, Jana resented Audra, but why make dire threats against her?
&nb
sp; As for parents, April’s mother wasn’t happy at how her child’s bullying had been dealt with, but Mrs. Patrick struck Audra as being as gentle and harmless as her little girl. “I can’t think of anyone,” she said. “Truly.”
“You don’t recognize the handwriting?” Redhorse asked.
“It’s just block printing. No, I don’t recognize it.”
“What about the paper?” Beck asked.
“It looks like a sheet of plain copy paper.” She shook her head. “Maybe this is someone’s idea of a sick joke. I mean, that threat is so vague. It doesn’t say what is going to happen or who I’m not supposed to talk to or give me any idea what I’m not supposed to say.”
“TDC Enterprises sued you,” Hud said. “They think you know something your father also knows.”
She had tossed and turned half the night, trying to make sense of that lawsuit. “The papers I was given don’t say that,” she said.
“No, but it’s implied,” Hud said.
“But why would someone from TDC leave a note on my car?” she asked. “I think they sent a clear enough message with the lawsuit.” She shook her head. “The more I consider this, the more I think this is just a bad joke.” She frowned at the piece of paper.
“Has anyone from TDC contacted you since your father disappeared?” Redhorse asked.
“No.”
“Does that surprise you?” Redhorse asked.
“Not really. I hardly knew anyone at that office. And I’m baffled as to why they’re dragging me into this lawsuit. There’s absolutely nothing I can tell them.”
They all fell silent. “Any other questions?” Hud asked.
“No,” Redhorse said. “Thank you for coming in.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Beck said. They all stood.
“I’ll walk you out,” Hud said.
He didn’t say anything else until they stood by her car. “Are you okay?” he asked. “This kind of thing can really shake a person up.”
“I’m okay,” she said. “I guess I don’t scare so easy. It seems more ridiculous to me than anything—that silly confrontation with that reporter, then this vaguely threatening note. It’s ludicrous.”
