Lost But Not Forgotten

by Roz Denny Fox

  Mike asked for the woman’s name.

  “Would you kiss and tell, old buddy? The jerks who caused the disturbance had nothing to do with her. They banged on the door and woke me up. I smelled booze the minute I cracked the door. They thought I was some dude horning in on their babe. One of ’em ripped the chain out of the wall. I convinced them they had the wrong building, then I phoned the station to report the incident.” Mitch raked a hand through already mussed hair. “Out of habit, I rang my old line. Ethan was there. He took my report.”

  “Ethan did do that,” came a deep voice from the door.

  Mitch glanced up and met his friend’s cool smile. The other two cops had arrived—Ron Glendenning and Brian Fitzgerald from his old precinct. Taz barked, which meant Ethan was here, too. Trooper bounded over to greet the older dog.

  “Hey, Ethan. If you’re picking up this call, much obliged,” Brian said. “It’s been a crazy night. The complaint came in as we were heading off duty.”

  Ethan clapped one of the officers on the back. He walked them to the door and accepted the notes from Ron’s clipboard. He didn’t turn and look at Mitch until the others had gone.

  “Don’t say it.” Mitch held up his hands.

  Ethan’s eyes were dark and sympathetic. “You ought to know me better. Doesn’t mean I understand why you’re protecting her when I offered to put out an APB on your truck. You know it’s the best, maybe the only chance we have of nabbing her.”

  “Listen, those bastards who barged in here had mob written all over them. What if she’s accidentally mixed up with them? You know as well as I do that with their police contacts, she’s less safe in jail.”

  “The woman steals your wheels and you want her kept safe? Aw, man, I thought when you phoned and asked for my help you’d learned your lesson.”

  “First, I think she only stole my pickup as a way of getting out to the ranch to collect her car. I figure she must’ve gotten up to use the bathroom and maybe heard those fools. She probably got scared and took off.”

  “I won’t even ask why you were sleeping here.”

  “Don’t. Ethan, if we leave now and take the shortcut to my place, we may catch up with her.”

  Ethan opened his mouth, then as quickly heaved a sigh and closed it again. Pulling out his keys, he jingled them to gain Taz and Trooper’s attention. “I’ll phone Regan from the Suzuki. I’m due home right now. It’s coming up on four-thirty.”

  Mitch followed him out, pausing only long enough to snap off the lamp and latch what was left of the door. “Wait up. Listen, Ethan, those jokers may have been blowing smoke to throw me off track. But after you touch base with Regan, I wonder if you’d log on to the station computer and run an NCIC search in Louisiana using the name Noelle McGrath.”

  “That name sounds familiar.” Ethan’s brows knit. “Hot damn! Gillian Stevens is an alias. I should’ve figured. That explains why she came up totally blank when I ran her through the National Crime Information Center. Come on, Mitch. Are you thinking with something other than your brain here? I’ll phone Villareal over at the county and have him pick her up. He can ask the questions and keep us out of it altogether.”

  “If I could handle this alone, Ethan, I’d never have called you. I can’t explain it, but I’ll stake my reputation—and my life—on Gilly being clean.”

  Unlocking his dusty Suzuki SUV, Ethan shooed the dogs into the back seat. If he had anything else to say on the subject of his former partner’s stubbornness, he kept it to himself.

  GILLIAN WAS SHAKING so hard, she could barely open the door of Mitch’s pickup. She just prayed she’d be able to sneak out of the garage while the thugs from the blue car were entering her building via the front. The truck’s engine sounded so loud in the quiet of the early-morning hours, she was afraid she’d faint again. The air inside the cab grew close from her rising fear.

  Gillian expected men with guns to jump into her path from behind each shadowy car she passed. She made it to the garage entry without mishap, fully recognizing the dangers of driving onto the street without headlights. This was, after all, only two streets away from the police station. Cops were always out and about in this area, starting and ending their shifts. But if she could reach the intersection without using lights, there’d be less chance of the thugs seeing her drive away.

  Maybe they wouldn’t connect her with this truck. Then again, maybe they would.

  A half block more and she’d be at the intersection. Once she drove through it, she’d be home free. Up ahead she saw the traffic light turn yellow and then red. Damn, she hadn’t wanted to stop. As she drew closer to the stoplight, twin beams crested a rise in the next block. Sweat popped out on her forehead. In the unfamiliar pickup cab, she fumbled around until she found the switch for the lights. She turned them on just as the other vehicle, a taxi, pulled to a stop across from her, and the driver blinked his lights as a reminder.

  Gillian bent over the steering wheel. She wished her hair was longer so she could hide her face behind it. During the interminable wait for the light to turn green, she noticed a low fuel light blinking at her from Mitch’s instrument panel.

  Wasn’t it just her luck to steal a truck that needed gas?

  What to do about it? She’d run off without money. Not only didn’t she have her phony driver’s license, she didn’t have a dime to her name.

  Almost fortuitously, a streetlight illuminated the inside of the cab. From the corner of her eye, she caught the reflection of light off something silver in Mitch’s console. With a trembling hand, she scooped up a stack of change. Quarters, nickels and dimes. Almost four dollars, if in her haste she’d counted correctly.

  At today’s prices, how much gas did that buy? Two gallons, she decided dismally, passing a service station. It was closed. So, she could buy two gallons of gas, provided she found a station open at—she glanced at her watch—four-ten in the morning. That much gas would carry her to Mitch’s ranch. From there she’d switch to her own car. At least it had a full tank.

  God, she needed to factor in the time it’d take to pump two lousy gallons. The fuel needle was sinking more into the E by the second. Really, she had no choice.

  For once, luck rode on her shoulder. Halfway down the next block, at which point Gillian had already determined she’d have to abandon the pickup, she caught sight of a combination convenience store-service station. And it was open!

  Nerve-racking though the flashing low-fuel sign was, the worry had served to take her mind off her larger problem. Like what to do once she reached the ranch and switched cars?

  Careful as she’d been to keep ready cash on hand at her apartment—preparing for this very eventuality—Gillian found it hard to believe she’d left without any of the essentials she needed to disappear again. That showed how thoroughly Mitch Valetti had addled her brain.

  While she pumped her two gallons of gas, she kept a wary eye on the street. Done at last! She hurried inside and dumped her sweaty handful of change on the counter, gave the pump number and started to dash out again.

  “Sheesh, lady,” grumbled the zit-faced teen at the register. “What did you do, rob your kid’s piggy bank?”

  Gillian hunched her shoulders to ward off his sarcasm. Yet she didn’t turn back. If someone came looking, the less she stood out, the better. It was a cinch the boy wouldn’t soon forget her, though. With luck, however, he might not have gotten a clear look at the vehicle she drove.

  To keep from making a U-turn in front of his window, she backtracked two blocks down a one-way street, circled the station and emerged several streets beyond where she’d bought the gas. Time ticked. Jeez, almost four-thirty.

  MITCH DRUMMED his fingers on Ethan’s dashboard, nervously awaiting the report he expected to pop up on Ethan’s laptop CAD screen.

  “Anything yet?” Ethan, who knew the best routes to navigate Desert City, sped down an alley guaranteed to take ten minutes off their drive.

  “Nothing. Wait, something’s com
ing up now.” Mitch tilted the screen to see it in the light of the car’s dash.

  “Well?” Ethan demanded when the silence expanded and Mitch continued to stare.

  “Hold your horses. There’s no criminal record on Noelle McGrath, although there’s a warrant for her in Louisiana. She’s wanted for questioning in the drive-by shooting of her husband, Daryl. The way I read this, she disappeared suddenly, leaving furniture, clothing and a car behind at her town house. Dispatch put me on hold while they scan in a newspaper article and a driver’s license photo ID.”

  Ethan tossed Mitch his cell phone. “When you get the birth date off the license, ask them to run searches on a mix of the two names. See if we can pick up a definite connection between the McGrath woman and your Gillian.”

  “There’s no need,” Mitch said, closing his eyes and rubbing at the frown lines forming between his eyebrows. “The picture’s grainy. She’s got really light hair in the photo and it’s longer. But it’s Gilly, all right. There’s no disguising the shape of her face, or her smile.”

  Reaching across the seat, Ethan gave Mitch’s shoulder a bracing squeeze. “I’m sorry. I really am.” He let his foot off the gas. “Shall I phone Villareal, and we’ll turn back? Regan told me to bring you to the house for breakfast,” he said placatingly.

  “I know it looks bad on the surface, Ethan. But I refuse to believe that Gilly or Noelle—or whatever the hell her name is—did anything criminal. I won’t be satisfied until I hear the story from her own lips. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer we try to catch up.”

  “I don’t mind as long as you’re prepared to accept the consequences.”

  “You mean, watch while you cuff and book her?”

  “You wouldn’t be so foolish as to try to interfere, would you, Mitch?”

  Mitch’s expression was pained. “Who I am hasn’t changed because I turned in my badge. I’m still one of the good guys.”

  “Okay. I’ve got to admit,” Ethan growled, “that lately you’ve had me worried. But then, I’ve hardly made a secret of the fact that from the first day I met her, I’ve been uneasy about your Gillian Stevens.”

  Mitch didn’t bring up the few times he’d felt she was holding back, or hiding something. The last thing he wanted to do was change Ethan’s mind about helping him locate Gilly.

  “So what’s the game plan?” Ethan asked once they’d reached the outskirts of town and were headed down the perimeter road toward Mitch’s ranch.

  “Let me think a minute. If she is there and we roar down my lane, she could climb in her car or my truck and light out across the desert—like that driver who left the suitcase.”

  “I thought you said you’d fixed the fence.”

  “Yeah. Except Gilly was out here yesterday. She’ll know it’s a matter of circling around the toolshed and the black walnut tree to skirt the fence.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. We need an alternative plan.”

  Mitch closed the laptop computer and set it aside. “I wish I knew how much of a head start she had.”

  “What are you thinking? Spit it out.”

  “It’d take longer, but we can stop at Dave’s, saddle a couple of his horses and ride to my place across the back pasture.”

  “Sounds workable to me. I’d suggest we leave Trooper with Dave. We can take Taz. He might distract her if she’s armed.”

  “She’s not going to be armed!”

  “You don’t know that, Mitch. Louisiana wants to question her about a drive-by, for God’s sake.”

  Mitch stared at his friend in the dusky morning light beginning to filter into Ethan’s Suzuki.

  “Have it your way. Slow down, or you’ll miss Dave’s drive. There, turn. I guess we’ll know soon enough which one of us is right.”

  “I’m sorry, Mitch. Honest to God, I wish it hadn’t ended this way.”

  “Nothing’s ended, Ethan. First, I want to hear what Gilly has to say.”

  Ethan’s snort voiced his opinion as effectively as any words.

  IN GILLIAN’S HASTE to reach the ranch, collect her belongings and be on her way, she missed Mitch’s lane. Because it was still pitch-black out, she also missed the narrow crossover between the two lanes of the divided road. She knew the crossovers weren’t meant to be used by motorists. There were signs everywhere saying they were for emergency vehicles only. However, this perimeter road was so sparsely traveled, she didn’t think there was much chance of anyone seeing and reporting her indiscretion.

  She did grow extremely nervous when it proved to be five miles down the road to the next crossing to a path that was barely defined. But cross it she did. Afterward, she heaved a huge sigh, wanting badly to step on the gas and speed all the way to Mitch’s ranch. However, from the moment she’d pumped gas into his pickup, she’d cautioned herself to obey traffic laws, no matter how great her urgency.

  Halfway down Mitch’s lane, she turned off her lights and crept forward. She’d come this far; it wouldn’t pay now to get careless. Until yesterday, she hadn’t realized how close his house sat to his neighbor’s. Now that she knew, and also knew the men watched out for each other’s property, she didn’t want to risk his friend seeing her lights and maybe coming to investigate.

  She slowed even more when she drove out from the covering of trees. Faint light, beginning to break in the east, made it easier to assess what lay ahead. Her car stood exactly where she’d left it. Her key would be inside on Mitch’s kitchen counter. There was no light on in the house. Gillian shut off the ignition and sorted through his keys for the one most likely to open his door.

  It shouldn’t feel like breaking and entering. But it did. Her stomach thrashed and bile rose when she slid out of the pickup. For maybe the first time since the start of this debacle, she considered giving up.

  What would Mitch do if she turned around now, went back to town and threw herself on his mercy? It was tempting. So very tempting. Of course she couldn’t. It’d be too unfair to involve anyone she cared about in this unholy mess.

  Startled, she realized she did care for Mitch Valetti. A lot. More than someone in her position ought to. The best thing she could do for both of them, she decided with an increasingly heavier heart, was to disappear permanently from his life.

  As she stumbled up his porch steps, she was unable to see Mitch’s front door for the blinding flood of tears.

  “HI, DAVE.” Mitch hopped out of Ethan’s SUV and hailed his neighbor, who’d just come from his barn leading a saddled horse.

  “What brings you two out here before daybreak?” Dave met them with an outstretched hand and a grin.

  “You seen any activity around my house this morning?”

  Dave gave a shake of his head. “You got trouble over there again?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Ethan and I need the element of surprise. Would you mind keeping Trooper and also lending us two horses? We thought we’d ride in the back way and sneak past my barn.”

  “This have anything to do with the guys who tore out your fence and scared the daylights out of your pregnant mare?”

  Mitch tugged at his lower lip. “Doubtful.” But now he wondered if it tied in with Gillian. He’d thought at the time it was joyriding teens.

  “I’ll need a few minutes to saddle an additional horse. Want me to go with you?” Dave asked hopefully.

  “Like the cavalry?” Ethan said with a grin. “We aren’t anticipating trouble, Dave. If we run into any, I’ll signal the county for back-up. Technically, this is their territory. I don’t even have jurisdiction, although I can hold someone if need be. Mitch is involved strictly in the capacity of property owner. Aren’t you, Mitch?” he reiterated when Mitch failed to agree verbally or even nod.

  “What? Sure, Ethan. I said up front that you’re calling the shots. So let’s get at it. Dave, don’t bother with a saddle. I’ll ride bareback.”

  “I haven’t ridden a horse in so long, I hope I haven’t forgotten how.” Ethan
mounted the saddled horse, watching Mitch swing up on the second one Dave led out.

  “My hip’s feeling the effect of being in the saddle so long yesterday,” Mitch said, grimacing. “My whole side is sore.”

  Ethan didn’t reply until after they’d left Dave’s land. “You know, Mitch, if you’d stuck to just riding horses yesterday, your hip might not be so stove up.”

  Mitch scowled. “Needle me all you want. I’m not telling you if I slept with Gilly or not.”

  “I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I didn’t pick up enough clues at her apartment to know the answer to that, now would I?”

  “Then kindly keep your remarks to yourself.”

  “Did I say anything in front of Dave?”

  “No. And we’d better shut up. Sounds carry out here. The reason we’re bouncing across the field like this is to take Gilly by surprise.”

  “Just one more question. Do you think she’ll switch cars and take off like a shot, or are you guessing she’ll go inside first?”

  “Her car key’s in my house. Plus, she left her place with nothing, as far as I could tell.” Not that she had much to begin with. Mitch wanted to tell Ethan about her meager material possessions. On the other hand, he didn’t want to say anything that might damage Gillian further in Ethan’s eyes. Detective Knight had a soft heart when it came to kids. Adults who broke the law didn’t fare so well.

  Mitch had held the same views. Funny how turning in his badge made him see things differently. Or was his thinking skewed just where one woman was concerned?

  They topped a rise looking down on Mitch’s property. He saw Ethan jab a finger. “My truck’s there,” he muttered. “So is Gilly’s car. Looks like we hit pay dirt, partner.” Both his tone and his heart were wooden.

  “Can we tie up behind the barn and split up? One go in the front door and one in the back?” Ethan asked quietly, bringing Taz to heel with a hand motion.