The door opened, and a woman about Elyse’s age wearing a Starbucks Coffee uniform looked out. “Yes?”
“Lara Mendonca?”
“Yeah. Who are you?”
Logan tried not to let his sense of relief show as he said, “Logan Harper. You’re a friend of Elyse Myat’s, right?”
She looked at him warily. “Yeah.”
“I’m a friend of her grandfather, Tooney.”
She continued to stare. “So?”
“Can I ask you a few questions?”
“It’s almost time for me to go to work. What kind of questions?”
“Well, Tooney’s concerned about her. She was supposed to visit him yesterday, but she didn’t show up. And now we can’t find her anywhere.”
The suspicion on her face immediately turned into concern. “Are you serious?”
Logan nodded. “When was the last time you talked to her?”
She looked away in thought. “The night before last. Yesterday she was supposed to go up to…” She looked at Logan again, testing him.
“Cambria,” he said. “To visit her grandfather.”
“Yes.”
“She didn’t make it.”
“Oh, God. Did you check the hospitals? Maybe she was in an accident.”
“We checked. No accident,” he said. “Could I come in for a minute? Might be easier than talking out here.”
She hesitated only a second, then nodded, and moved to the side so he could enter.
Unlike Ryan’s apartment, Lara’s place was furnished in a much more finished, post-college style—real paintings on the walls, furniture that didn’t look twenty years old, and no smell of stale pizza.
As soon as they were seated in the living room, he asked, “What was her mood like when you last talked?”
“Mood? Uh, fine, I think,” she said. “She was looking forward to getting out of town.”
“Any clue that she might have been thinking about going someplace else?”
“Not that I can remember.”
“Any problems with her boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend?”
“Aaron Hughes.”
She snorted a laugh. “Aaron’s not her boyfriend. Who told you that?”
“Angie.”
Her laugh this time was even louder than the first. “I don’t think Elyse would ever talk to Angie about her love life. She and Aaron went out once, I think, but that was it. She thinks he’s kind of odd, and not in a good, Jesse Eisenberg kind of way. Elyse does sometimes spend the night here. Maybe that’s what Angie was thinking.”
That pretty much confirmed what Logan already suspected. Aaron was not Elyse’s boyfriend, and Angie was not trustworthy. “How long have you known Elyse?”
“Three years this coming summer. We started school together.”
He looked around the room. “You live here alone?”
“Why?” she asked, her guard coming back up.
“Sorry,” Logan said quickly. “Just curious. That’s all. You don’t have to tell me.”
She allowed herself to relax a little. “My sister. We share this place. She’s a CPA.”
He smiled. “I was wondering how you could afford to furnish your place like this on a student salary. It’s certainly nothing like Ryan’s apartment.”
She gave him an odd look. “Ryan?”
“Elyse’s neighbor?” he said. “That’s where Angie was when I went by last night.”
She shook her head and shrugged. “I guess I’ve never met him, but we don’t really hang out much over there. Not since Angie showed up, anyway.”
“How long has she been there?”
“She moved in over winter break. Three months now, I guess.”
Only three months?
“Thanks,” he said, feeling the sudden need to have his talk with Angie as soon as possible. “I appreciate you giving me a little time.”
“Hold on,” she said as he started to rise. “You haven’t told me what’s going on. Is she really missing?”
He tried to sound reassuring. “I think her grandfather’s probably being a little over cautious. I’ll bet it turns out she decided to go someplace like Vegas or San Diego on a whim.”
Lara looked less than convinced, but she didn’t argue the point.
Logan wrote his number on a page from his notebook, and gave it to her. “Please call me if you hear from her.”
“Can I use your pen?”
He handed it to her.
She tore the page in half and wrote her info on the blank piece, handing it back to him when she was done. “And you call me if you hear from her.”
“I will,” he promised. “One last thing. I understand that Elyse had another friend, a guy named Anthony? Do you know who that is?”
“Sure. Anthony Hudson. We’re all friends.” She was quiet for a moment, then her eyes brightened. “Hey, they were supposed to have dinner the night before last. He would have seen her.”
“Do you know where I can find him?”
“His apartment’s maybe a half mile from Elyse’s.”
He gave her back the piece of paper, and she added Anthony’s address and cell number to it.
“Thanks again,” he said.
________
Logan found a parking spot almost directly in front of Angie and Elyse’s building, then ran into the courtyard and up the stairs to the second-floor breezeway. He was almost to their apartment when he suddenly stopped, the soles of his shoe screeching against the concrete surface.
There were no curtains covering the windows of Ryan’s apartment. The ratty furniture, the television, even the pizza boxes—all gone. The place was as spotless as Aaron’s place had been the night before.
Logan stared inside for a moment, then sprinted the rest of the way to Elyse’s place. The curtains were closed, which he took for a good sign as he pounded on the door. When no one answered, he knocked again, then tried the doorknob. Locked.
Angie must have gone out.
He thought for a moment. Anthony’s place was only a half-mile away. Logan could see if he was home, and probably be back in less than thirty minutes. Maybe by then, Angie would have returned.
It took him longer to find a parking spot than it took to drive over. Anthony’s apartment was at the back of his building on the first floor, off an interior hallway. There were no windows, so Logan couldn’t see in.
He rang the doorbell, then knocked several times. But, like at Angie’s, there was no response.
He contemplated what he should do, then decided to go around back and take a peek through Anthony’s windows, just to make sure it wasn’t another empty apartment.
He found an exit, but was surprised when he had to take a staircase down to reach the back alley. The reason for this became clear as he stepped outside. The building had been erected on the side of a small rise. The architect had used this to his advantage, and built a carport into the lower part of the slope, below the first floor. Unfortunately, this meant he couldn’t simply walk up to Anthony’s window and peer in.
He examined the back of the building. The last foot of the carport stuck out like a lip just below the first floor. If he could get on that, he could work his way over to Anthony’s windows. The question was, how to get up there?
The simplest answer turned out to be his El Camino. He drove it around, then backed it most of the way into one of the empty parking spots, leaving the hood sticking out from under the carport. Carefully, he mounted his car, then pulled himself onto the lip.
Making an educated guess as to which windows belonged to Anthony’s place, he inched his way over. There were no curtains over the nearest of the target windows, but when he looked in, he saw with relief a very lived-in living room.
As he moved down to the next window, he noticed that the screen covering it was hanging loose in one corner of its frame. Somebody had cut a triangle flap large enough for a person to fit through.
Logan looked inside. It was a bedroom. And
unlike the living room, it was occupied. There was a man lying on the bed, his right arm flopped on the pillow beside his head. But what caught Logan’s attention was the Beretta pistol lying inches from the guy’s hand, and the impossible-to-miss hole in the side of his head.
He would have preferred it if the place had just been empty.
He thought it was a pretty good chance the dead man was Anthony. According to Lara, he’d been the last to see Elyse. Did that mean she was in the apartment, too? As much as he’d rather not, Logan knew he was going to have to check.
He pulled the sleeve of his jacket over his hand, then put it through the cut in the screen, and up against the window. With just the slightest of pressure he was able to slide it open. He then looked both ways down the alley to make sure no one was watching, then slipped inside.
Immediately, he started to gag.
The smell of rot and death hung in the room like a thick fog. He threw a hand over his nose, and quickly ran into the hallway.
The stench was there, too, but not quite as strong. He did a quick sweep of the rest of the apartment to see if there were any more bodies, but, with a definite sense of relief, he found none.
Returning to the bedroom, he took a couple of Tshirts out of the dresser. He used one to cover his nose and mouth, then wrapped the other around his hand so he could pat down the body.
The dead guy had a wallet in his front pocket. Logan worked it out, then carefully opened it. A driver’s license sat behind a clear window in the front. The name on it read: Anthony Hudson. Logan put the wallet back.
The position of the gun, Anthony’s hand, it all pointed to suicide, but with the way things had been going, suicide was not a conclusion Logan was ready to jump to. Besides, the unlocked window and cut screen bothered him.
What surprised Logan most was that no one had heard the shot. In most of the apartment buildings he’d lived in, someone was always complaining about hearing their neighbors through the walls. A gunshot from the Beretta should have been heard not just by the people next door, but also by people in the buildings that lined the alley. And since this was the middle of a big city, no matter what time the trigger had been pulled, someone would have been home. But by the look of the wound and the smell, Anthony had been lying there dead for at least a day, if not more.
Logan scanned the room, looking for a note somewhere, but there was none.
Death could be made to look like anything. An accident, suicide, whatever they want…
Was this not what it appeared? There was no way for Logan to know for sure, but it certainly felt that way.
Instead of going out the window, he used the front door, circled around to the alley like he had before, and got back into the El Camino.
He knew he should call the police. But if he did it from his cell phone, they’d record his number, and know who he was. He couldn’t have that. He’d lose too much time down at the station trying to explain why he’d found the body, and given the suspicions Detective Baker already had, it was possible they would even lock him up for a few days. He could always find a pay phone, but those were few and far between now, and you never knew where a security camera might be aimed.
There was a third option.
He started the El Camino, and pulled out of the carport.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LOGAN’S PHONE RANG as he was driving back to the motel. The number on the display had a D.C. area code.
“Logan?” It was Ruth.
“I thought you’d forgotten about me.”
“I tried. Trust me.” She let out a little laugh. “My contact couldn’t run the plate number until after hours, and I wasn’t about to call you back from any of my phones.”
“Uh…thanks?”
“What? You want me to give them a good reason to fire me? I’ve got a family, remember?”
He didn’t say anything. He’d had a family once, small as it had been.
“Sorry, that was…unnecessary,” she said. “It’s just if anyone looks at the phone records they’ll already see that you called me at the office. One call I can play off, tell them I told you to get lost, but two? Especially if I’m the one initiating the second one? Not so easy to ignore.”
“Don’t worry. I get it.” And he did. Her cell phone and, of course, her office phone were both paid for by Forbus. They would know exactly who she talked to. “What did you find out?”
“Nothing that you’re going to like, I’ll bet. The car’s registered to a Cameron Jackson in Burbank, California. Unfortunately, Ms. Jackson filed a stolen vehicle report yesterday. It seems when she headed out for work in the morning her car was gone.”
There was an airport in Burbank, one that was a hell of a lot easier to use than LAX. Fly in, walk a few blocks, steal a car from in front of a home. Easy. No doubt, in another couple of days, the police would find the car, but wouldn’t be able to pursue the case any further because there would be no prints.
“Thanks, Ruth.”
“I said you weren’t going to like it.”
“You’re right, but I’m not surprised.” He hesitated a second. Things had changed since they’d last talked. There was information she was uniquely positioned to provide him. He didn’t want to push, but he had to. “Listen, what kind of intel do you have on Burma these days?”
“Burma? I thought we were talking stolen cars.”
“Separate subject.”
“What’s important about Burma?”
“It’s for a friend. He…used to live there years ago.”
Ruth said nothing for several seconds. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
“Nothing. Just getting some info for a friend. That’s all.”
“And the stolen car?”
“I told you, unrelated. It dinged my dad’s car in a parking lot. But if it was stolen there’s not much we can do about it.” They both knew he was lying, but if Ruth was ever asked about it, she could honestly repeat what Logan had just told her. “So…Burma?”
The pause went on for several seconds. He could imagine her shaking her head in resignation as she finally spoke. “As far as I know we don’t have much going on in that part of the world at the moment. A little contract work in Singapore, emergency response training, but that’s it.”
“You still get the daily brief, right?” The daily brief was a breakdown of what was happening in the world by country and region. Forbus wanted its top people kept up to date in case an opportunity suddenly presented itself.
“Hell, Logan, I don’t really pay that much attention to Burma. As far as I remember, it’s pretty much the same as always. A group of old, asshole generals not wanting to relinquish the power they don’t deserve. Nothing stands out, though. No new protests or anything.”
Logan hesitated, then said, “I need another favor. I need the latest Burma assessment.”
“Are you serious?”
“I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t.”
“I hate you sometimes, Logan Harper.”
“Is that a yes?”
“That’s a maybe.”
“Thank you, Ruth. I mean it.”
He pulled into the motel parking lot a few minutes later, and saw that the cars the Cambria contingent had ridden down in were all there. He called his dad.
“What room are you in?”
“Thirty-five.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Dev and Nick were standing just outside his father’s door like they were protecting the Oval Office.
“Everything all right?” Logan asked.
“Everything’s fine,” Dev said, then knocked on the door.
“Good. Thanks for being here for them.”
“Always like to help a friend.”
A moment later, Barney opened the door and let Logan in.
Tooney and his father were sitting on one of the two beds while Jerry stood nearby.
“We were going to order some Chinese,” Jerry said. “Want some?”
“We need to talk.”
“Did you speak with Elyse’s friends?” Tooney asked.
“I talked to Lara, but…” Logan hesitated only a second. There was no use sugarcoating it. “Anthony’s dead.”
Stunned silence.
“Did you say dead?” his dad finally asked.
“Lara gave me his address. Said that he was supposed to have had dinner with Elyse the night before last, so I went over there. I found him in his apartment.”
“How did you get in if he was already dead?” Barney asked.
“I just did.”
“Did someone kill him?” Jerry asked.
“The way it looks, he shot himself through the head.”
Harp leaned back, surprised again. “Suicide?”
“That’s the impression.”
“What do you mean, ‘impression’?” he asked.
“With everything that’s been going on, I’m not willing to believe suicide yet.”
“So what do you think happened?” Jerry asked.
“I don’t know. Could be he did kill himself. But if he did have dinner with Elyse, he would have been one of the last people to see her before she disappeared. Maybe he was with her when they grabbed her. Wrong place, wrong time.”
“Oh, no, no,” Tooney said, burying his eyes in the palm of his hand. “We should have called the police yesterday.”
“I don’t think it would have made a difference,” Logan told him. “I’m pretty sure he was shot before that guy even came to the café to try to kill you.”
“But the police are going to know now anyway, aren’t they?” Barney said. “You must have called them after you found the body.”
Logan hesitated. “No. I didn’t.”
“No?” his dad said.
“They almost got Tooney,” Logan said. “They probably did kill Anthony. The first sign that anyone tries to involve the authorities, I think you might be right. Whoever has Elyse will kill her, too. As far as Anthony goes, the police will know, but it can’t come from me. Not if you still want me to find Elyse.”
“We can’t just let him lie there, can we?” Barney asked.
Logan shook his head. “No, we can’t.” He walked over to the front door and opened it. “Dev, can you come in here for a minute?”
“Sure,” the ex-Marine said.
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