For a few seconds she saw nothing unusual, then a burst of light briefly cut through the darkness at the far end of the hall. When it came again, its source, a flashlight, moved all the way into the hall, and started heading back toward the living room. She ducked down and leaned against the wall, unsure what to do. Part of her wanted to sprint back to her car and race away, but the picture…she had to get the picture.
As silently as possible, she retreated to the street and ducked behind an old Dodge van parked on the other side.
Nearly twenty minutes later, the front door of her duplex opened. Since her porch light was off, she couldn’t get a good look at the man who stepped out, but as he walked toward the car at the curb, he passed into the light of the corner streetlamp.
It was the guy who’d come into the bar earlier that night. Not a surprise.
She stayed rooted to the spot until long after he’d driven away. Finally, she forced herself to move. Once inside her former home, she spent only as much time as needed to get the picture and get out. A minute later, she headed for the freeway, but just before she reached the on-ramp, she pulled to the side of the road.
There was an opportunity here, she realized. The man would be under the impression she’d left town. Even if he hadn’t read the note, which she believed he must have, the signs of her departure were there. She could use this to her advantage and stay in town, spying on him—where he went, whom he talked to. She could turn the tables on them, know what they were doing, and control the situation instead of being controlled by it.
Her mind made up, she called Richard again, and had him meet her just on the Arizona side of the border. Since locals would know her car, but no one had seen the rental he was using, she wanted to switch vehicles with him. That turned out to be easy. The harder part was convincing him to leave his gun with her.
“If you need a gun, then you need me,” he said.
“It’s just in case.”
“Then you need me, just in case.”
It took nearly all the energy she had left to convince him to go back to Kingman and wait until she contacted him again.
As she drove back into Braden, she donned a hoodie and then searched through town for the El Camino. It wasn’t difficult. The car was easy to spot. As she’d figured, it was parked at one of the town’s motels. She found a spot at the other end of the lot, and dropped her seat back as far as it would go.
It had been a long day, and the one that had already begun was sure to be another. A few hours’ sleep—that would be a good idea.
But just a couple, she thought as her eyelids grew heavy. Just a couple.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LOGAN ROLLED OVER and forced himself to check the time: a few minutes before eight thirty a.m. Total amount of sleep: three and a half hours.
The night before, after he’d confirmed Diana was gone, he had gone through her place room by room. Any guilt he would have felt for the intrusion was negated by the desire to find Sara. Given what Brian Pearson had told him about Diana, and the fact she had run after Logan and Pep showed her Sara’s picture, there was no question in his mind that the two women were connected.
How and why were something else entirely. Unfortunately, Diana’s place revealed few clues on either front. The only real thing of interest was a letter he found on the kitchen counter.
Dear Mr. Hackbarth,
I apologize for not giving notice, but as you must realize, I’ve had to move out in a hurry. I realize I’ve left the place in a mess, so I don’t expect you to return my security deposit. Feel free to sell anything I’ve left and keep what you make.
Again, I apologize, but it couldn’t be helped.
Diana
P.S. If you could, please let Mary Ralston know I won’t be coming back to The Hideaway.
There was no doubt in Logan’s mind—Diana Stockley was gone.
If only he’d known about her connection to Sara when he’d originally talked to her. He’d been so damn close.
After a quick shower, he threw on some clothes and called Callie. Though talking to Diana was currently no longer an option, she could still be useful. The line rang once, then voicemail kicked in.
“It’s Logan,” he said. “I’ve got a name I’m hoping you can check out. Diana Stockley. She was apparently seen in Sara’s company a couple years ago in Braden. That’s where I am now. Last night, after I started asking around about Sara, Diana skipped town. If you could find out anything on her, where she’s from, any previous addresses, that would be a big help. Thanks, Callie.”
After he hung up, he went in search of the others, finding them downstairs in Dev’s room.
“Anyone up for some breakfast?” he asked after Barney let him in.
“Breakfast?” Harp said. “We ate over an hour ago. We did knock on your door first, but I guess you were out on your run.”
“You’ve got to be careful exercising in this heat,” Barney told him.
Logan was in the habit of taking an early morning run every day. If that’s what they thought he was doing, that was fine. He wasn’t quite ready to tell them about his late-night excursion yet. Besides, details like that tended to worry his father.
“We’ve been waiting for you so we can go to the hospital,” Harp said. “I called over. Pep’s got his own room now. So if you’re hungry, you can get something at the cafeteria.”
He picked up the copy of Lost Horizon and headed outside.
“I had their egg salad sandwich yesterday,” Barney said as he stood up. “Wasn’t bad.”
As they walked out to the Cherokee, Dev strolled up next to Logan and said in a low voice, “I’m guessing you missed your morning run. Unless that was your dad who went joyriding in your car last night and didn’t come back until a few hours ago.”
Few things ever got by Dev.
Logan took a second then said, “We’ll talk later.”
“I’ll be around.”
__________
PEP WAS STILL asleep when they arrived. Logan had been hoping to finally talk to him about what happened, but it looked like that would have to wait a little longer.
He sat there with the others for a half hour, then caught Dev’s eye and said, “Can you give me a ride back to the motel so I can get my car?”
Dev immediately stood up. “Sure.”
“What do you need your car for?” Harp asked. “We just got here.”
“I’m trying to find Sara, remember?”
“Yeah, but we don’t have any leads.”
“And I won’t find any just hanging around here.”
“Well, Pep will be able to help.”
“And when he wakes up, I’ll come back to talk to him.”
Harp nodded, conceding the point. “You know what’s best. Call us if you find something.”
“I will.”
__________
BORROWING A PHONE book from the hospital receptionist—a different woman than the one the day before—Logan found a listing for a Mary Ralston and three for men with the last name of Hackbarth. He wrote down the addresses and phone numbers for each, then he and Dev headed out.
As they pulled out of the parking lot, Dev said, “If I have to sit in that hospital all day, I might have to throw someone through a window, so how about I tag along with you?”
“I was going to suggest the same thing,” Logan told him. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone along just in case he needed a little assistance, and Dev was more than capable on that front.
He gave Dev directions to Diana Stockley’s house and told him about his late-night visit. Several minutes later, they walked up the pathway to Diana’s front door.
The reason Logan wanted to start with the duplex was to see if anyone had discovered she was gone yet. It would help him decide what his next move should be.
Looking through the window, everything appeared the same as when he’d left. Chances were no one was yet aware of her departure. Still, just to be sure, he wanted to check that th
e note was still on the kitchen counter. He took a quick glance through the neighborhood, then pulled out a napkin he’d stuffed in his pocket when he picked up a bagel from the cafeteria earlier. He first wiped the knob to remove his earlier prints, then used the napkin to open the door.
While the note was still there, the envelope was closer to the center of the counter than where he remembered leaving it. Of course, it had been late, so it was possible he’d knocked it there without even realizing it as he walked away.
A quick check of the rest of the house revealed nothing new. As he and Dev started to leave, an idea came to him.
He motioned for Dev to wait, then went back and grabbed the envelope. Dev raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as they returned to the car.
Using the list Logan had created at the hospital, they visited the first of the Hackbarth addresses. As they parked, Logan immediately knew they could dismiss this one. The house was empty—no curtains, no furniture, no car.
In the driveway of the neighboring house, a woman was removing grocery bags from the trunk of her sedan.
“Stay here,” Logan told Dev. He climbed out of the Cherokee and walked part of the way down the sidewalk toward the woman.
“Excuse me,” he called out. When she looked over, he pointed at the empty house. “Was that the Hackbarth residence?”
“Still own it as far as I know.”
“It looks empty.”
“That’s because it is. Why do you want to know?”
“I’m looking for Mr. Hackbarth.”
“Well, if that’s the Mr. Hackbarth you want, you’re four months too late.”
“Moved?”
“Died.”
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t know.”
She shrugged. “Didn’t talk to him much. He was pretty old. Mostly stayed inside.”
As she returned to what she was doing, Logan took another step in her direction. “Sorry, one more question.”
She stopped and looked at him.
“There’s a duplex not too far away from here owned by a Mr. Hackbarth,” Logan said. “I thought it might be your neighbor.”
“That would have to be one of the sons. My bet would be Mark. He’s the real estate guy. Got an office over on Center Street, I think.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“You thinking of buying it?”
“I’m…looking around at the moment.”
She pulled out the last grocery bag and shut the trunk. “Well, if you are buying, you’d be the only one. Whatever price they’re asking, offer half.”
__________
THE HOME ADDRESS for Mark Hackbarth had been the next one on Logan’s list, but instead of heading there, he instructed Dev to drive over to Center Street.
“There it is,” Logan said.
It was the third real estate office they’d passed. Like the others, the names of the agents were painted on the window. Right at the top of the new office’s list was Mark Hackbarth.
Once they were parked at the curb, Logan grabbed the envelope from Diana’s place and the two men got out. Logan had almost reached the office door when he realized Dev wasn’t with him. He looked back and saw that the former Marine was still standing near the car, staring down the street.
“What is it?” Logan asked.
Dev didn’t move for a moment, then he turned and walked toward the building. “Probably nothing,” he said. He motioned at the door. “Shall we?”
The temperature inside was a good thirty degrees cooler than out—almost too cold, in Logan’s opinion. The real estate office consisted of five desks in two rows of two with the odd desk centered up front. Three were occupied.
The woman sitting at the one nearest the door smiled as they walked in. “Welcome to Desert Horizons Realty. How can I help you gentlemen?”
Logan smiled back. “We’re looking for Mark Hackbarth. Is he in?”
Before the woman could say anything, a man sitting at a desk in the back jumped up. “I’m Mark.”
He walked toward them, all smiles and energy, and thrust out his hand. As Logan shook it, he could sense desperation hiding behind Hackbarth’s welcoming demeanor. Given all the FOR SALE signs in town, it seemed likely that trying to sell real estate here was like sucking blood from a dried-out corpse. The man had to be on the edge of financial collapse.
“How are you doing? Mark Hackbarth. And you are?”
“Logan Harper. This is my associate, Dev Martin.”
“Associate? Well, okay,” Hackbarth said, as if it were immensely interesting. “Why don’t you come on back and have a seat.”
When they reached his desk, Hackbarth dragged two guest chairs over and motioned for Logan and Dev to take them.
“So, Mr. Harper, Mr. Martin, what can I do for you?” Hackbarth said as he dropped down in his own chair.
Logan set Diana’s envelope on the desk, Hackbarth’s name facing up. “To start, you can see what’s inside this.”
Hackbarth’s happy expression turned perplexed, then concerned. He leaned back. “Is it a subpoena or something like that?”
“No. Nothing like that. At least I don’t think so.”
“What is it?”
“That’s what we’re hoping you can tell us. We found it leaning against the door of a house we went to check.”
“What house?”
“Part of a duplex,” Logan said. “On Sage Lane.”
“At the corner?”
Logan nodded.
“I own that.”
“Then I guess that explains why the envelope has your name on it.”
Hackbarth looked at him for a second, then down at the envelope. Finally, he pulled open the flap and removed the letter. As he read, he grew visibly upset. When he reached the bottom, he put it down.
“One moment,” he said. He rose and walked rapidly back to the woman at the front of the room. Though he was obviously trying to keep his voice down, it was easy enough for Logan and Dev to hear him. “Call Frank. Have him go over to the duplex and check unit two. I think my tenant just skipped.”
“Which one’s that?” the woman said.
“Just call Frank.”
When he returned, he was having little luck masking his anger. “You found this against the door?”
“Yes,” Logan said.
Hackbarth shook his head and muttered, “Great.” He then looked at Logan again, his eyes narrowing. “So why exactly were you at my duplex?”
“We were looking for Ms. Stockley.”
“Why was that?”
Logan paused and looked briefly at Dev as if he were gauging whether he should say anything more. When he did speak, he drew it out, like there was more to what he was saying than the words coming out of his mouth. “She borrowed some money from our corporation, and has missed the last couple payments.”
Right on a cue they hadn’t discussed, Dev leaned forward, his face impassive.
“I guess you could say we’re on a collection call,” Logan continued. “My father isn’t going to be very happy when I tell him she’s gone.”
“Your father isn’t the only one,” Hackbarth said.
Logan was silent for a moment. “While I’m sympathetic with your situation, it’s of no importance to me. Finding the woman is. Any cooperation I get in doing so will, naturally, be appreciated.”
“Whoa,” Hackbarth said. “I don’t have any idea where she went.”
Logan kept his gaze steady and his voice calm, but direct. “Of course you don’t. If you did and didn’t tell us, that would just be stupid. And you’re not stupid. I can see that.”
The fingertips of Hackbarth’s left hand began to tap nervously on the desk. “I’d love to help you, but I’ve got my own problem to deal with right now.”
“That’s where we’re in luck. At the moment, our problems are similar,” Logan said. “And the few minutes you spend helping me would be helping yourself.”
“I don’t see what I could possibly do for you that would h
elp.”
Logan allowed himself a quick, controlled smile. “I assume Ms. Stockley filled out a rental application, and perhaps other documents containing personal information.”
Hackbarth looked really nervous now. “Well, of course, but I’m not sure if I should—”
“Mark?” the woman up front yelled.
They all looked over. She was standing at her desk, a phone held to her ear.
“Frank was in the neighborhood, so he’s there now,” she went on. “Definitely looks like your renter cleared out. Says the place is a mess.”
Hackbarth took a deep, seething breath, and turned back to Logan. “Let me get her file for you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ERICA SAT BEHIND the wheel of her car and fumed. They had missed the woman by what couldn’t have been more than a few hours. Unbelievable!
Though Erica had made good time at the rental agency at LAX, and Clausen and Markle—her two men—had arrived on schedule, it was still after four thirty in the morning when the three of them finally arrived in Braden.
She had decided during the drive that they could no longer risk simply observing the woman. Either the bitch knew something or she didn’t, and now that someone else was snooping around, Erica couldn’t prolong this irritation. She needed it sewn up, and she needed it done now.
That’s why she was here, to make sure no one screwed up this time.
Half an hour before they arrived in town, she had called Cecil Frisk, the man who had been watching Diana, and told him to meet her at the woman’s house. Though Frisk had obviously been half asleep when they talked, he was wide awake and parked a block away from the woman’s place when Erica and her team arrived.
It should have gone nice and smooth. At nearly five a.m., even a bartender would be asleep.
But when they went in, instead of finding Diana in her bed, she wasn’t even in the house.
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