by Lori Ryan
Evan glanced out the window. A place like the town they were in now. He had the impression Turner liked being known and revered by everyone in town. From what Evan had heard when he’d stopped for breakfast, half the town was employed by the ranch or one of the other businesses Turner owned. The other half rented space in his retail buildings or had a loan held by the bank where Turner sat on the board.
Turner Carson was a very big fish in this Texas town, and to be honest, the town wasn’t even the smallest of ponds. It was a thriving tourist town with a population of eight thousand and growing. In some ways, he was surprised Turner didn’t live in a bigger place like New York or California. But maybe the man liked owning most of what surrounded him.
“It’s possible she’s in one of those large cities where she’s popped up on the radar, but you have to realize, these cities all have sky-high costs of living. It’s much more likely that they’ve settled into something in between. Not a small town but not a major metropolis either.”
“Then how do you explain how her credit cards are popping up in cities all over the place?”
“I think she’s got help. I would guess she’s stayed in touch with some friend, maybe even a group of friends, and she has them use the cards for her occasionally. She’s not using them for anything on a regular basis so my guess is she got her cards to a few friends when they first left and she just calls and tells one of them to use it from time to time.”
“Well how the hell do we track that?”
Evan was ready with a plan. He never came to a meeting without one. “I’ll look into some of her friends on social media. She’s not active on her account anymore, but it’s still there. I’ll look through her friends list and see if I can find people in the cities she’s popped in. But I’ve also noticed the cites are all major airport hubs. So it’s possible she’s having the friends use the cards when they travel. I can check to see if any of her friends were in those cities when the cards were used. People post everything to social media. It will take some time, but I can comb through and look for details.”
Turner nodded. “Do it. I don’t care what it costs. I want my family’s property back and I want them prosecuted.”
“I also want to look into things on your wife’s end. The other detective was focused solely on your stepdaughter.”
“The other PI told me my wife hasn’t shown up in any database or any transactions from the day they vanished. That’s why he’s been focusing on my stepdaughter.”
It was Evan’s turn to nod. He’d read through the file. He knew all that. “Most people will show up somewhere in one of the search engines and databases we use eventually. But I don’t think you’re going to find your wife that way. She’s managed to slip off the radar somehow. I think we need to track her by looking at what we know about her. To do that, I’m going to need to know more about your wife’s medical condition.”
Evan knew how specialized care could be. His daughter was going to require more care than he and his wife could provide themselves soon. They’d be needing to find a home that could handle her degenerative condition. And they’d have to move to be closer to her, because no way was he going to give up seeing his daughter every day.
“How will that help?”
“You said your wife will require long term care for life at a specialized facility.”
“Yes. The injuries to her back and hips didn’t leave her paralyzed but she has a number of mobility issues and she requires physical therapy and medical support daily. In-home care isn’t feasible unless they’ve found a way to hire a home health nurse who can be available to her twenty-four hours a day. Of course, that’s what I provided when she was here, but….”
But the women wouldn’t be able to afford that, even with the family heirlooms they took when they left.
Not for the first time, Evan wondered how unhappy Turner’s wife had been to leave a place where she was given round the clock nursing care. It wasn’t like she was in a position to replace that care. Not with the prenuptial agreement she’d signed.
He kept to the job, pushing aside any speculation about Turner’s marriage. As he did with all cases where a man was having him locate a woman, he’d checked for any signs of domestic violence. There were no police reports on file for the Carsons, nothing to indicate the man would harm his wife when Evan found her. It was something he’d always done before taking a case like this.
“So we start there,” Evan told Turner. “I’ll look at cities and towns near places she knows. Where she grew up, where her siblings live. She probably won’t live right in those places, but if I can find facilities that can provide the level of care she needs and cross those with areas within driving distance of locations that mean something to her or have people she knows, I’ll have a place to start.”
“It sounds like a long shot.”
Evan didn’t let the man’s tone bother him. Turner wasn’t wrong. “It is. And it will take a lot of man hours. Once I identify the facilities, I’ll look on their social media and see if I can spot your wife. Like you said, it’s a long shot and it’s labor intensive. I understand if you decide you don’t want me to pursue it.”
Evan knew before Turner spoke that the man wouldn’t tell him to stop. This was more than just trying to get back his family’s heirlooms. The old watch collection the women stole was worth a hell of a lot of money—in fact, more money than Evan would have guessed watches could cost. But there was something about the way the man spoke that told Evan this was about more than getting the watches back.
Whatever the man’s motivations, it meant he would pay for the ridiculous amount of legwork that needed to be done. That worked for Evan just fine. His daughter’s illness meant his medical bills were piling up. This job had come when he’d begun to think he would never be able to find a way through the mountain of debt they were facing.
“Do it,” Turner was saying. “I want those watches back. Have you had any luck tracking the watches themselves?”
“Still no news on them.” He’d already explained to Turner that although legitimate pawn shops and jewelers would check a database for reports of stolen goods before buying something like that, there was no report in this case.
Texas was a communal property state which meant that Turner’s wife had as much right to the jewelry and watches as he did. He hadn’t been able to file a police report and record the items as stolen. So no jeweler was going to see them pop up in the system.
Even if they had been stolen, it was possible the women sold them to a private collector who is purposefully staying ignorant on the origins of the items or to a store that isn’t careful about where it gets its goods.
“They had to have sold them. They have no other way to get money. My wife came from nothing.”
Evan didn’t answer. He had a feeling the man wouldn’t have accepted anything less than a woman who came from nothing, a woman who was reliant on him. Still, Evan had also done his own research on Turner’s wife and stepdaughter. They might not have come from money but they weren’t destitute.
The stepdaughter had worked two part time jobs and received scholarships to get her degree in Computer Software Engineering. She’d been the beneficiary on an annuity when her father had died eight years before her mother married Turner and she’d had a good job before the women left. Enough that she had been able to buy a mid-range car and pay it off in a year. From what Evan could see, the daughter lived frugally, putting money aside for savings at a rate that he would guess not many people her age did.
Of course, the account had been emptied and the car sold before they left.
Turner claimed he only wanted to find out where the women had sold the watches so he could get them back. Then he’d divorce his wife and walk away from it all.
Evan stood. “I’ll send you updates as I have them.”
Turner stood as well, hands on hips over the fancy belt he wore. “You do that. I want them found, Mr. Willows. I wasted too much time with a P
I who didn’t know what he was doing. I’ll give you a month to turn something up and then I’m moving on to the next guy and the next after that until I find someone who can get this done.”
Evan nodded once before letting himself out of the office. He didn’t have any doubt Turner would do exactly what he said if he didn’t find something more to go on, and fast. Evan intended to do just that.
Chapter 8
“How is she?” Joy whispered since Evelyn’s eyes didn’t open when she walked in the room. She didn’t know if the older woman was sleeping or just resting her eyes.
“I’m perfectly fine! I keep telling Carl I’m perfectly fine and I’ll tell you the same thing. I’ve got a sprained knee not a broken hip.”
Evelyn said all this without opening her eyes so Joy didn’t bother to suppress her smile. Carl rolled his eyes.
“I see that. Both of you!” Evelyn still hadn’t opened her eyes but somehow, the effect of claiming to see something they were doing without using her eyes was utterly believable.
Joy wiped the smile off her face. “I was heading back to my cabin for the evening if you don’t need anything. I’ll be here in the morning with the pastries.”
They were a small lodge so they didn’t keep the front desk staffed at all times. Joy or Carl would cover it when they had people checking in and they usually spent some time there during the day, but the phone was forwarded to Carl and Evelyn’s quarters so people could reach someone when they were needed.
“No you won’t.” Now Evelyn opened her eyes and looked at Carl and Joy. “I’m making breakfast in the morning. The doctor said I can start putting weight on this leg for short stints and I can sit on one of the barstools when I’m rolling pastry out or cooking. I’m perfectly capable of getting breakfast out for our guests.”
Carl and Joy both opened their mouths, but Evelyn held up her hand. She wasn’t the kind of woman you argued with when she put that mothering look on her face.
“Enough. I’ll rest after breakfast and we would appreciate it if you could come up in the morning to help with the serving and clean up but I don’t need you to get pastries in town anymore. As of tomorrow, my kitchen is open again.”
Joy couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth for Evelyn and she smiled at the woman. She was glad she was on her way to being fully recovered because Joy couldn’t put off moving on much longer. She had been putting off counting the days, but she knew without looking at the calendar that she had another five days in town.
Her throat was a little thick when she spoke. “All right, then. I’ll see you both in the morning.” And if she ran out of there a little faster than she really needed to, no one seemed to notice.
She let herself out of the apartment Carl and Evelyn had at the back of the first floor of the lodge and then out the front door of the building. She started down the walkway that would lead to the small cabin she lived in at the back of the property but then turned, heading for her car instead.
The old Nissan sedan wasn’t pretty to look at and, in fact, she couldn’t even say it ran all that well, but it got the job done for her. She would be ditching it soon anyway. She would leave it at the bus depot when she got on a bus. She would take a few busses and trains before stopping someplace to buy another cheap old beater to get her through the next six months or so.
Maybe this time she’d try for something that didn’t have a patchwork paint job and spots where there was nothing more than primer. Maybe.
The door creaked when she opened it and again as she shut it but the engine started right away and she made the half hour drive to Dillon. The library there didn’t require a card to use the computers and if any detectives came to Breckenridge looking for her, they’d never check the surrounding town’s libraries to see if someone fitting her description had come in to log-on.
She was careful not to set any pattern to when she checked the email account, but it still made her nervous that the librarian gave her a smile and wave, clearly recognizing her as Joy signed in at the front desk. Still, she gave a small wave back and went to the row of computers set between the stacks of books.
Whenever she got around a computer, she always itched to see what was happening with her friends at her old job. The computer had once been such a part of her world before all this had happened.
Her life had changed so dramatically, it was almost head spinning at times. Things had seemed so simple when she went to a nine-to-five job and had concrete tasks and assignments as part of a team of software developers.
She logged onto the email account she and her mom used to communicate. With each of them using fake names she was pretty sure they were safe keeping tabs on each other this way, but it still made her nervous every time she logged on. She had to fight not to rub at the phantom tingling at the back of her neck or turn and check behind her for anything out of the ordinary.
It had been ten days since she’d checked the account, but her mom was faithful in emailing every day. They’d spent all the money they had to get her mom set up with a new identity so she could get the medical care she needed, so her mom kept an iPad and used it to communicate with Joy. Her mom was hiding but not running the way Joy was. Joy was the decoy. She kept very little and moved at least every six months.
She scanned through the subject lines of all of her mother’s emails first, making sure there was nothing out of the ordinary in them. When nothing popped out, she opened the bottom email and began to read, smiling as her mom described her days in detail.
Her mom was living in a care facility halfway across the country but she didn’t believe in sparing any of the details of her days. She spent most of her day in the garden where residents in the home were encouraged to tend to the plants and flowers as much as they could. The best part of these emails was the small glimpse of her mother she could see coming back. She was no longer the shadow of a woman she’d been when Joy got her away from Turner. Joy could see the mother she knew coming out bit by bit. The woman who’d taught Joy to bake. Who’d held Joy on her lap, guiding her to sew a dress for Joy’s doll to match the dress she was making for Joy. The woman who had always seen light and happiness everywhere she looked. Who didn’t let the world defeat her.
Joy had been afraid that woman was gone for good, that Turner had managed to chip away at her until nothing was left of the mother Joy loved.
She bit down on a laugh as she read her mom’s accounting of a pottery throwing class that resulted in her mom’s pottery piece flying off her wheel and smacking into the wall. Her mom had decided not to try that class again.
She had better luck with the painting class and Joy had to admit, her mother’s painting wasn’t half bad. She’d taken a picture of it and attached it to the email and Joy grinned at the picture. The sunset and ocean were pretty nice. Of course, the boat at the center of it was so lopsided only someone with a death wish would actually take it out on the water, but the bright blue and yellow colors of the boat were pretty.
The rest of her mom’s emails were chatter about people at the home with her and pictures of the flowers in the garden. There was one about a trip to the farmer’s market, which made Joy’s breath catch in her chest, freezing to a block of ice while she read the email. It made her nervous to know her mom was leaving the property of the facility and going out where someone might recognize her. Not that the chances of someone recognizing her in a place neither of them had ever lived before was high, but still. She’d prefer her mom stay as hidden away from people as possible.
When the librarian announced that the library would be closing in fifteen minutes, Joy turned her attention to figuring out where she’d go next. She planned to drive south. There was a used car lot an hour south of here, the kind with a lot of cheap cars she could buy for cash. She would leave her car here and take the bus down toward the car lot, then hitchhike the last three miles to the lot so she could get another car.
She clicked through the map looking for a place that was large enough sh
e might be able to find work and a place to live. She needed to be someplace that wasn’t as much of a tourist attraction as Breckenridge had been. It had been too risky being in a place where people came from all over the country to visit.
She clicked through city after city. The bigger places like New York or DC would be too hard to find a safe place to live. She moved the map to the center of the country, looking at options. Des Moines, Iowa, would be warm enough for another month or so and there were campgrounds she could stay in and sleep in her car.
Still, she didn’t want to go straight there. She’d go south into New Mexico and then cut to the west and come up and over Colorado before heading to Iowa.
She thought about emailing her friend and asking her to use one of Joy’s credit cards again. Bella Johansen had been Joy’s friend in middle school until she moved to California with her family. The two had lost touch but reconnected when Joy did an internship out West during college. It wasn’t a connection Turner would know about and it was one that had proved to be invaluable over the last year.
If Joy emailed, Bella would know what to do. She would choose one of Joy’s credit cards and run it for something like a disposable cell phone or gas in a car, or sometimes a meal for two people. With Bella’s job as a flight attendant, it was easy for her to make it look like Joy was someplace she wasn’t. To make it look like she and her mom were on the run in some other part of the country together.
But Joy had a feeling it was time for her to make another real appearance again soon. Every few months, she would let herself pop up on the radar for real before fleeing. She knew better than to let Turner catch her so anything she did had to be carefully planned.
Maybe she would sign onto social media before she left town this time. Just something small to drop a clue about where she’d been. And she’d make damn sure she’d left town and was long away by the time anyone found the breadcrumb. She had to. If she didn’t and Turner got hold of her, she had no doubt he’d hurt her to get to her mom. No doubt he’d do whatever it took to get back the woman who had run from him.
