Little Girl Gone

by Brett Battles

  “Does it look like someone lives here?”

  He could see her better now. She was wearing sweats and a baseball cap, and was a good ten years older than he was.

  “When did Aaron move out?” he asked as he stepped outside.

  The use of the name had the desired softening effect. “You’re a friend of his?”

  Logan paused. “Not really a friend. He…does some work for me on and off. Supposed to come over earlier this evening but didn’t show up. Couldn’t get him on his cell, so thought I’d come over and check.”

  “Sorry. I think you’re out of luck. He moved out this morning.”

  “This morning?”

  “Gone by nine.”

  Logan glanced back inside. “You got the cleaning crew in there fast.”

  “Aaron arranged that himself. Said he didn’t want to leave a mess for someone else to clean up. Wish everyone was like him.” She paused. “He must have gotten his dates with you mixed up, though. He told us a week ago he was moving back East today.”

  As Logan climbed back into his car a few minutes later, he felt numb. There was no way to deny it. Something odd was definitely going on.

  He stuck the keys in the ignition, but instead of turning them, he called his father. It took five rings before it was picked up.

  “Hello?”

  “Dad?”

  “No. It’s Jerry.”

  Jerry? Apparently his dad was hosting a slumber party.

  “You want me to get him?” Jerry asked.

  “Please.”

  A few seconds later, Harp came on the line. “Did you find her?”

  “Not yet. Did you check the hospitals again?” Before Logan had left his father’s house, he’d suggested they call around one more time.

  “Yeah. She’s not at any of them. I also did another check with Highway Patrol. No major accidents on the 101 tonight.”

  Logan paused. “Dad, I think it’s time we talk about calling the authorities, and telling them what’s really going on.”

  Harp was silent for a moment. “What happened?”

  Logan told him what he’d learned so far.

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean she’s missing.”

  “The definition of a missing person is someone you can’t find,” Logan told him. “I’ve checked the places she should be, and she’s not at either of them.”

  “We…we can’t go to the police.”

  “Why not?”

  “We just can’t.”

  “That’s not good enough anymore.”

  “It has to be good enough!” his father yelled.

  “How can I know that? You guys obviously aren’t telling me everything. If you did maybe I’d understand.”

  His dad hesitated, then said, “I can’t tell you. I made a promise. But I can guarantee you that involving the police would be exactly the wrong thing to do. Please, Logan. You need to trust me on this.”

  Logan shook his head in disbelief. “What do you want me to do? Ignore what I’ve learned?”

  “Of course not,” he said. “I want you to find her.”

  9

  Logan had met Carl Stone in the Army while in the middle of a three-year, post-high-school stint. Carl had already been in for four at that point. It was one of those situations where their personalities clicked the moment they met. Even after Logan left the Army for college, their friendship didn’t falter, and they stayed in constant touch. It was as if they had grown up together. Nothing could ever separate them.

  The summer after Carl got out of the Army, he took Logan—a junior at Fresno State by that point—to visit his family in Scottsdale, Arizona. That’s when Logan met Carl’s sister, Trish. In many ways, Carl was even happier than she and Logan were when they got married.

  “Now you’re legally my brother,” he had said.

  By the time Logan finished college, Carl was working at Forbus Systems International in Washington, D.C. They were a defense contractor involved in a ton of different things. Carl’s job was training and assessing the company’s private security forces. These forces were mainly tasked with guarding warzone bases so that military personnel didn’t have to.

  “Don’t even bother looking for a job,” Carl told Logan a month before graduation. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Logan was never exactly sure who Carl talked to, but within two weeks of getting his diploma, he was offered a job working with his best friend at a salary he couldn’t refuse.

  In retrospect, he knew it would have been a hell of a lot better if he had. Carl might have still been alive. Which would have meant Trish wouldn’t have blamed Logan and walked out on him.

  But Logan had taken the job. And Carl had died. And Trish had left.

  It wasn’t the dream that woke him that morning in L.A. It was the cruel memory of his wife lying quietly beside him. He could see her hair on the pillow, the curve of her body under the blanket. He could almost smell her, too, the faint odor of almonds and wildflowers and…

  As his eyes parted, the illusion faded. Trish was three thousand miles away, not lying next to him. That would never happen again.

  He threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, knowing he needed to go on a run so he could drive the memories from his mind. But in his haste to leave Cambria, he’d left his running gear behind. The only choice he had was to take a vigorous walk up Sepulveda Boulevard where his motel was located, and hope that would do the trick.

  It was only partially successful. While he was able to put Trish and Carl back into their respective boxes, he was unable to let his mind go completely blank. The void he’d hoped to create was quickly filled by thoughts of Tooney and Elyse.

  It was obvious to Logan that there was a lot more going on than he’d been led to believe. Part of him wanted to jump in his El Camino and drive back to Cambria to find out from his father and Tooney what was really going on. But what about Elyse? If something had really happened to her, Logan couldn’t afford the time the trip would take. As it was, he’d had to force himself to find a place to sleep only because it had been too late to get anything else done.

  Now the world would soon be up again, and he could get back to looking for her. As much as he wanted his other questions answered, they would have to wait.

  He figured his best bet was to find out more about Aaron Hughes. Logan wasn’t buying the coincidence of Aaron moving out of his place the same time Elyse disappeared.

  He stopped at a coffee shop near the motel and had a light breakfast. When it got close to seven, he grabbed his bag from his room, then went down to the El Camino and made a call.

  “Hello?” By the way Angie grunted the greeting, he could tell he’d woken her.

  “It’s Logan Harper.”

  “Who?”

  “From last night. About your roommate?”

  “Oh.” She paused. “What do you want?”

  “Just a couple questions. Aaron Hughes. Did he go to Otis, too?”

  When she answered, her tone had turned guarded. “I, uh, think he was out of school. Had a real job.”

  “Doing what?”

  “How should I know?”

  “You didn’t talk about these kind of things?”

  “Elyse and I are just roommates. We don’t hang out. Now, if you don’t mind. I’d like to go back to sleep. I’m on vacation.”

  She clicked off.

  Logan stared out the window for a moment. He wasn’t sure if she was just socially awkward or trying to hide something. Better to err on the side of the latter, he thought, then added a stop at her apartment to his list of things to do. It was a lot harder to hang up on someone if they were standing right in front of you.

  He called Joan next. Though he’d woken her up, too, her demeanor was considerably less annoyed than Angie’s.

  “Did you find her?” she asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Oh, God. Maybe something really did happen to her.”

  “I’m not willing to say th
at just yet, but I do have a question or two, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure. Whatever I can do to help.”

  “I get the impression you and Elyse are friends. Is that right?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I mean, we don’t go and do a lot of things together. But when we’re both here, we’ll hang out, watch some TV, talk.”

  “Other than this boyfriend, Aaron, who—”

  “I gotta tell you, I don’t think she was dating him. I know that’s what Angie said, but I’m sure Elyse would have told me that.”

  “Well, I was wondering if you knew of any other friends she might hang out with?”

  “Her best friend’s a girl named Lara. And then there’s this guy. What’s his name?” She was silent for a few seconds. “Anthony, I think.”

  “Last names?”

  “I think Lara’s is Mendonca. Anthony’s, I have no idea. You can check at the school. They’re both in the motion graphics program with Elyse.”

  “Thanks,” Logan said.

  “If you find her, will you please call me? I want to know she’s ok.”

  “I will.”

  One more thing for his to do list: contact Otis administration.

  He checked his watch. 7:15. Too early for anyone to be at the school yet. He could go pay that visit to Angie, but if she was sleeping, she’d hold for a little while. There was one other thing he could do first.

  He started his car and headed back to Venice Beach so he could take another look at Aaron Hughes’ place in the daylight, and see if there was anything he might have missed.

  On the way over, he’d started thinking about the guy who’d come after Tooney the day before. Sure, his father had said it had nothing to do with Elyse, but just like how Logan was skeptical about the coincidence between her disappearance and Aaron’s sudden move, he was equally skeptical about there being no connection here.

  There was one way he could find out a little more information, but it meant making a call he wasn’t sure he was ready to make. He debated with himself for a full five minutes before he pulled out his phone, and punched in the number. It was already mid-morning in Washington, D.C., so he knew there was a good chance she’d be there.

  “Forbus Systems International. How may I direct your call?”

  Hearing the words, he hesitated.

  “How may I direct your call?” the voice said again.

  “Uh, Ruth Bobick, please.”

  “One moment.”

  He was put on hold, and subjected to fifteen seconds worth of Forbus promotional propaganda, complete with patriotic music and what sounded like the crackling of fireworks.

  “Ruth Bobick.”

  He hesitated again hearing the voice of his old friend, knowing he could still hang up if he wanted to, but, instead, he said, “Hi, Ruth.”

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Logan.”

  There was a long pause. “Oh, Christ. Are you trying to get me into trouble or something?”

  When Logan had worked with Carl at Forbus, Ruth had been their main contact whenever they were out in the field leading training sessions. She and Logan had always gotten along well. When the powers-that-be took him down after Carl was killed, it would have been easy for him to drag Ruth along with him, but he hadn’t.

  “I don’t want to get you into any trouble.”

  “Well, you know you’re not exactly on the top ten most popular list around here.”

  “It’s been more than two years. I would think everyone would have moved on.”

  “You’d think, wouldn’t you? Unfortunately, some people have long memories.” She paused. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m okay. You?”

  “Fine.” Another pause. “Are you still in…”

  “Cambria? Yeah.”

  “Working at the garage?” she asked as if the question itself was ridiculous.

  “Yep.”

  “You know, if you’re looking for something else new, I’ve got friends around the industry, and could probably pull a few strings. It wouldn’t be what you’ve done in the past, but it would have to be better than working in a garage.”

  “I like the garage, Ruth. But thanks.”

  Neither of them said anything for a moment.

  “So, are you calling just to say hi?” she asked.

  “I’m calling because…” He paused. “Because I need a favor.”

  “You are trying to get me in trouble.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I just need a license plate checked.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Someone piss you off and you’re trying to track them down?”

  “Something like that.”

  “What’s the number?”

  Logan gave her the plate number of the sedan he’d chased out of Cambria, then told her his cell number since it was different from the one he used to have.

  “Mine’s still the same,” she said. “But don’t use it unless it’s an emergency, and, please, don’t call me on the office phone again.”

  “In other words, don’t call you?”

  “It would be better if I called you.”

  “I understand. I appreciate the help, Ruth.”

  “You’re welcome.” She paused, not hanging up, then said, “I’m…I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.”

  “I haven’t been in touch either.”

  “Yeah, but…well…sorry.”

  He could sense she wanted to say something more, but before she could he said, “I’ll wait for your call,” then hung up.

  10

  Traffic began building up on Washington Boulevard as Logan neared the ocean. It seemed strange to him. As far as he could tell, the area was mainly residential, so he figured most of the cars at that time of morning should have been heading in the other direction. But the closer he got to Pacific Avenue, the more congested it became. Then, two blocks short of where he’d been planning to turn, he came to a complete stop.

  After the car in front of him made a U-turn and headed back in the other direction, he decided to do the same, then turned on the first side street he saw and parked. From there, it was only a few minutes walk to Aaron’s place.

  Before he reached the intersection with Pacific, the reason for the delay became clear. Two police cars were pulled across the road, blocking off Pacific Avenue north of Washington.

  Logan felt a tingling sensation at the back of his neck, and picked up his pace. When he reached the corner, he spotted several emergency vehicles parked just down the block. He could also see half a dozen fire fighters rolling up hoses and packing equipment back onto their trucks, their work apparently done.

  Like the street, the sidewalk that ran in front of Aaron’s place was also blocked, but the one on the other side only had a small area taped off directly across from the fire trucks. Some people were gathered along the part that was clear, watching the action, so Logan headed there.

  In his gut, he already knew what he was going to see, and he wasn’t disappointed. Where Aaron’s little house—his bungalow—had been, there was now a charred pile of debris. The side that had once been part of the property wall was gone, leaving a gaping hole. Logan could see the rest of the property through it. Though it looked like the fire had spread, the other buildings appeared to have received only minor damage.

  Apparently, just cleaning the house hadn’t been enough for Aaron. He’d decided to burn the place down to make sure there was no trace of him left. Logan had no proof of this, of course, but once again, he wasn’t buying the coincidence.

  Moving further down the sidewalk to get a better look, he could see that there was no part of the bungalow left untouched by the flames. If Aaron had left anything behind that could have helped Logan find Elyse, it was completely destroyed now.

  Logan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Expecting it to be Ruth, he was surprised to see his dad’s name on the display.

  “What?” he asked, not in a particularly talkati
ve mood.

  “What was Elyse’s boyfriend’s address? Don’t think you gave that to me.”

  Logan eyes narrowed. “Why?”