Untraceable

by Laura Griffin

  If he was even awake.

  He’d spent the past twenty-four hours immobilized on the sofa in her motel suite. She’d never seen anything like it. She’d come home last night and bustled around. She’d showered, and eaten, and watched TV, and pecked around on her computer, and he hadn’t moved an eyelash. Only his deep, even breathing let her know he was among the living.

  When she reached the motel, the Ferrari in her usual parking spot piqued her interest. He’d been out, which could be good or bad. Maybe he’d snapped out of his funk. Or maybe he’d gone on a bender. She’d been away for six hours, and that was more than enough time for him to find his way to the Quarter and get blitzed.

  She paused in front of the room but didn’t hear anything. She slid in her key card and opened the door.

  The room was a cave.

  “Troy?” She waved away a thick cloud of smoke as she stepped inside. She turned around. He was seated at the desk in the living area. The computer screen in front of him cast his face in a ghoulish light.

  “You’re awake.” She closed the door behind her and smothered a cough. “Jeez, how can you stand it in here?” She tripped over a fast-food bag and caught herself on the sofa arm. “God, this place is a mess!”

  She picked her way through the flotsam covering the floor. He’d been to Wendy’s and KFC, apparently. And now he was sucking down nicotine. The cup of herbal tea she’d made for him yesterday still sat on the coffee table, untouched.

  “Hello! Troy? You alive in there?”

  He frowned at the screen but still didn’t look up. “Yo, Smoky. It reeks in here.” She picked up the water glass he’d appropriated as an ashtray. Shaking her head, she walked over to the kitchenette and dumped the contents in the trash can. Then she watched, amazed, as he took a drag on his cigarette and ashed directly onto the desk.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She rushed over with the empty glass. “Troy!”

  He glanced up. “Huh?”

  “Unbelievable.” She crossed her arms. “How long have you been up?”

  He glanced down at the screen and frowned.

  She took a closer look at him. He wore the same outfit he’d shown up in—a rumpled T-shirt and Levi’s 501s—minus the cowboy boots. His hair was approaching the predreadlock stage, and his beard was filling in nicely.

  And he was completely zoned out.

  She stepped behind him and snapped open the blinds.

  He turned around and squinted at her. “Hey!”

  “Finally! God. What is with you?”

  He shifted the computer away from the glare and started typing something.

  “Are you working? On my computer?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She sighed. “Hey, don’t you want to hear my good news?” She turned and gazed out the window at the cloudless sky, and felt the grin return. “It’s been an amazing day! Magnificent! Breathtaking!” She looked at the back of his head, and his hands continued to move over the keyboard.

  “Melanie woke up. Can you believe it? Three weeks, and just snap.” She gazed through the glass. Even the parking lot looked beautiful this afternoon. “I couldn’t believe it. I walked in this morning, and there she was, sitting up in bed.” She was talking to herself now, but she didn’t care. “I mean, it was miraculous. She recognized me right away. You want to know the first thing she said? ‘Where’s Grace?’ Isn’t that great? I swear, I almost cried.”

  She peered out the window at her convertible, basking in the afternoon sunshine like a big red whale. It was a beast of a car, and she was starting to love it. The fins were actually kind of cool. And with the top down like that, it looked more proportional somehow. She imagined flying down the road in it with Nathan.

  A lump rose in her throat. She stared at the car. Her gaze dropped to the key chain in her hand, to the medallion Nathan had put there before he left. Christopher, the patron saint of safe travels. Alex had looked it up.

  Suddenly, she knew what she had to do now. It was clear as the sky.

  “I’m leaving,” she announced.

  She strode across the room and jerked open a dresser drawer. She scooped up a pile of clothes.

  “Troy? You hear what I said? It’s time to go home.”

  She dragged her duffel out of the closet and dumped the clothes inside. Her sweatshirt was draped over the back of a chair, and she stuffed it in, too. Next was the bathroom. She picked up the items scattered across countertop and dropped them into her travel kit.

  “Troy?”

  “What?”

  “I’m going back to Austin. Today. Wrap that up.”

  She zipped everything inside the duffel and glanced around. Why was her pulse racing? Why were her palms sweaty?

  Nathan. She was nervous about seeing him. She hadn’t called him in weeks. Maybe she should have. But he hadn’t called her, either. She bit her lip and glanced around the room.

  Running shoes under the coffee table. She snatched them up and shoved them in the bag. She parked her stuff by the door and grabbed a soft drink from the fridge. She looked around. That was it. Except for her computer bag.

  “Troy, I need my computer.”

  She waited a beat. Nothing.

  “Troy?”

  “No,” he said, without looking up.

  “No?”

  “I’m in the middle of something.”

  She walked over to him and fisted a hand on her hip. “Well, e-mail yourself a copy. It’s time to go.”

  He tore his eyes away from the screen and gave her his full attention. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Well, I am. And my computer’s coming with me.”

  He looked down at the screen again and resumed typing. “I need it,” he muttered.

  “So do I! It’s got my files on it.”

  “I’ll send them to you.”

  “Are you kidding? That’s my system. You can’t just keep it, just because you’re in the middle of—”

  “I’ll give you a thousand dollars for it.”

  “I paid twenty-five hundred for it three months ago!”

  “Ten thousand.” His gaze never left the screen.

  “Ten thousand dollars. For a laptop.” She stared at him. He’d totally lost his marbles.

  “Troy, that’s absurd. I’m going back to Austin, and I need my computer. Don’t bully me. Please. We need to check out and get on the road. I know you probably don’t care, but I’m not crazy about driving cross-country late at night. We need to head out.”

  He kept typing.

  “Troy?”

  His hands stilled. He took a deep breath and looked up at her. “Alex. I love you. But if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to have to hurt you.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  He started typing again.

  “But… I’m leaving,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Stay.”

  “Stay? At this crappy motel? With my computer?”

  He stood up.

  He walked across the room and picked up her bags from beside the door. She trailed behind him as he walked out of suite and dropped everything onto the passenger seat of the Sunliner.

  “Have you completely lost your mind?” she demanded.

  He stopped in front of her and patted her cheek. “Drive safe,” he said.

  Then he walked back into the motel room and slammed the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY - SEVEN

  Nathan watched the crime scene techs load the gurney into the back of the van.

  “You say you know this girl?” Hodges asked him.

  “Deanna Perry, street name Britney. She’d been working this neighborhood a couple years now.” Since she was a kid. “She and Tammy Dunn shared the same pimp.”

  “She another one of Coghan’s informants?”

  “Don’t think so,” Nathan said. “But who the hell knows? Maybe she knew something she shouldn’t have, and he got rid of her, too.�
��

  Nathan glanced around. Not surprisingly, Coghan hadn’t made the scene, even though this murder had occurred well within the narco squad’s hot zone. Despite the late hour, the parking lot behind the convenience store was lit up like a stadium. Lights reflected off the rain-slicked asphalt. Several plainclothes detectives and a few uniforms were spread out in a line, conducting a grid search for shell casings or other physical evidence.

  “I thought the feds were supposed to be keeping an eye on him,” Hodges said. “You’re thinking he ditched his tail somehow?”

  “With this fucker, anything’s possible.”

  Nathan lifted the crime scene tape and ducked under. Hodges followed. They headed back to the store, where the clerk was sequestered and awaiting an interview. The kid had called 911 after hearing a gunshot at about 8:55.

  They rounded the side of the building, and Nathan saw the street corner where he’d picked up Britney for that last meeting. He remembered her fear, remembered her hands trembling as she’d shredded that tortilla and talked about her dead friend. The girl had been scared for her life—with good reason, obviously.

  Her death was Coghan’s doing; Nathan felt it in his bones.

  Nathan stopped just outside the door to the store, then turned his back on the onlookers and reporters who’d already made the scene.

  “We need to find Coghan, check out his alibi,” Nathan said. “Why don’t you make a few phone calls while I talk to this clerk?”

  “I’m on it,” Hodges said. And then he glanced over Nathan’s shoulder, and his expression changed. “Heads up. Incoming.”

  Nathan turned around to see Alex elbowing her way through the crowd. The sharp punch of relief at seeing her nearly knocked him over.

  She stopped in front of him and crossed her arms. “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.”

  “I’ve been calling, but you didn’t pick up.”

  “Scuse me,” Hodges said, and made his escape.

  “Been a little preoccupied.”

  “So I see.”

  She glanced around, and Nathan took a moment to look her over. Tousled hair, snug-fitting workout gear, Nikes. Even with all the chaos buzzing around them, she’d managed to attract the attention of some of the neighborhood lowlifes.

  “How’d you find me?” Nathan took her by the elbow and guided her away from the leers and lights.

  “My scanner. I couldn’t reach you, so I tuned in and this is all over the police channel. Another strangling?”

  “A shooting,” he said, spotting an empty police unit. He led Alex to it and opened the passenger’s-side door. “Sit down.”

  She glanced up at him with those whiskey brown eyes he hadn’t seen in weeks. How long had she been back? What was she doing here? He didn’t like her showing up at a crime scene—particularly this one—and he figured she had to have a good reason.

  “Take a load off.” He nodded at the seat. “You look beat.”

  “Thanks a lot,” she said, but then she obediently parked her butt in the car and gazed up at him.

  “When’d you get back?” he asked.

  “Yesterday.”

  He noticed the damp hair clinging to her neck. Her cheeks were flushed, and something flickered in her eyes. Anger? Hurt?

  “Melanie’s awake,” she said.

  He watched her but didn’t comment.

  “She’s being moved to a safe house. Holt tells me the feds are offering her a spot in the witness protection program if she’ll testify against Coghan’s associates.”

  “Who’s Holt?”

  “A Texas Ranger I know. He’s part of the task force. Anyway, he’s pretty much told me that they don’t really have any dirt on her, but they’re using her paranoia about Grace’s safety to turn up the pressure.”

  “That’s what’s got you all hot and bothered?”

  She blew out a sigh. “No. I spent the day staking out Coghan’s health club.”

  Nathan gritted his teeth. She was working this case still. He should have known. “And what were you doing at Coghan’s health club?”

  “Following up on a lead,”

  “What is it?”

  “Coghan’s mystery accomplice,” she said, and her eyes got bright with excitement. “I thought about it the whole drive home, and I realized I might have him on tape.”

  Nathan frowned. “How’s that?”

  “Back in the fall,” she said. “I spent two full days running surveillance on Coghan so I could learn his routine before I helped Melanie disappear. Last night I went back over the footage, and there it was. On two separate occasions, he’s deep in conversation with people at the gym. Once in the weight room, once in the parking lot. In the parking lot footage, I even got a fuzzy license plate.”

  “So’d you get an ID?”

  “No.” She sighed. “But I e-mailed the clip to the Delphi Center. A guy I know there said he’d see if he can enhance the images.”

  Nathan gazed down at her but didn’t say anything. Three weeks of nothing, and now here they were talking shop again. Noise surrounded them—emergency vehicles, onlookers, the squawk of a police radio—and for a long moment, they simply looked at each other.

  Finally, she glanced away. “I went by your house last night.”

  “I was working.”

  “It was after two.”

  He bent his head down and stared at her until she lifted her gaze. “That’s what’s bothering you?”

  She shrugged, and the knot of worry he’d been carrying around in his chest started to loosen. She gave a damn.

  “I caught a case, Alex.”

  She nodded, looked away. Then took a deep breath. “I think we should talk soon. About… things.”

  She gazed up at him, and for the first time since he’d known her, her brown eyes looked vulnerable. She was going out on a limb here, taking a risk, and she seemed to be holding her breath, waiting for his response.

  “We can talk,” he said. “Your place or mine?”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant.” He reached out to touch her cheek, and she shivered when his thumb brushed over her skin.

  Someone shouted his name across the parking lot. He turned around. Cernak.

  “I have to go,” he told Alex. “I’ll come over later. We can talk then.”

  “Okay.” She looked wary.

  “It’ll be late,” he said. “Probably after midnight.”

  She stood up now, too, and she was so close, he could feel her body heat. He couldn’t quite believe she was here. He’d been so sure that she had itchy feet again, that she was ready to pull up stakes and try her luck in New Orleans.

  “I don’t mind.” Her voice was tentative, but her eyes were warm. And they told him she wanted to do much more than talk whenever he got done here.

  He kissed her mouth. “Wait up for me,” he told her.

  “I will.”

  Alex was in bed with her clunky old laptop and a frothy Coke float when her phone finally rang. She glanced at caller ID. Then she glanced at the clock.

  “This is huge,” she told Ben. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

  “Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.”

  “Seriously, you didn’t have to stay up so late just to help me.”

  He sighed on the other end of the phone. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I have no life,” he said. “And you won’t, either, if you ever come to work here. Go check your in-box.”

  Alex clicked open her e-mail just as the message came in. “You use Photoshop on this?”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. You’re clearly oblivious to the latest developments in photography software.”

  “I guess so.” She slurped up ice cream as she waited for the first attachment to open. Her backup computer was agonizingly slow, and for the hundredth time tonight she cursed Troy Stockton. Finally, the picture came up, and her breath caught. “Whoa. This
is incredible.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “How’d you get such a high-res picture from a grainy video clip?”

  “Trade secret,” he said. “And I’ll share it with you, if you’ll get yourself back down here to work for us.”

  “I will.” Alex scrambled off the bed and put the laptop on the desk, beside the dusty printer that hadn’t been used in weeks.

  “You mean it? You’ll really come?” he asked.

  The room was dark except for the glow of the computer, and it took her a second to find the cable beneath the desk.

  “I’ll really come.” If she ever wrapped this case up.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Ben said, as she plugged in her machine and powered on the printer.

  “So I assume you’re trying to get an ID here?” Ben asked. “Does this help? Do you recognize these people?”

  “I don’t, but someone will.” She gazed at the screen for a moment before clicking Print. The man next to Coghan in the parking could have been anybody—medium-height, paunchy, balding. But the woman talking to Coghan in the weight room was striking. Someone would know her.

  “The third image is that vehicle tag,” Ben said. “It’s crystal clear now, so it should be a simple matter of looking it up. But if your program gives you any trouble, call me tomorrow, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You’re a lifesaver,” she said. “And I’ll pay you back sometime.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  After they hung up, Alex collected the pages from the printer tray and stared down at the faces. “Who are you?” she muttered. Casual acquaintances? Alex thought not. She’d been over and over the video clips, and the body language told her these encounters weren’t casual.

  She looked at the man again. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but maybe it was just because he resembled George Costanza from Seinfeld.

  She’d go back to the gym tomorrow and shop these pictures around. She’d bet her right arm Steroid Boy could put a name to the blonde in about two seconds.

  A thud sounded across the apartment. Alex whirled around.