Every Precious Thing (21 page)

Logan opened the door and got out to stretch. Though he couldn’t see it from here, not too much farther to the north was the Grand Canyon. The only real indication of this was the constant traffic on the road.

He looked at his watch again and then chastised himself. Checking the time wouldn’t bring Diana here any faster.

If she’s coming at all
.

He gritted his teeth and tried to push that thought away, but it wouldn’t disappear completely. He walked several feet into the brush and considered giving his dad a call. He did owe Harp an update, but his pay-as-you-go phone didn’t come with call waiting or voice mail and he didn’t want to chance missing Ruth. He looked back at the unevenly spaced traffic on the road, each car merely another blob of paint and metal racing by.

“Come on, Diana. Where are you?”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-S
EVEN

“A
RE YOU HUNGRY?”
Barney asked.

He and Harp had brought Pep back to the Desert Inn, and given him one of the beds in their room.

“I’m fine,” Pep said.

He carefully lifted his legs one at a time onto the mattress, then leaned against the headboard, his arm wrapped around his damaged ribs.

Barney grimaced. “I still can’t believe they let you go.”

“Don’t worry about it. They kept waking me up at the hospital. At least here I might be able to get some sleep.”

Though Barney didn’t want to admit it, it was a fair point.

“I could use some water,” Pep said.

“Let me,” Harp offered.

While he disappeared into the back sink area where they were storing the bottled water they’d bought, Barney picked up the TV remote from the nightstand and held it out to Pep.

“Feel free to watch whatever you want,” he said.

Pep smiled. “Thanks.”

As the TV came on, Harp reentered the room holding two bottles.

“This is all we have left,” he said. He gave one to Pep and tossed the other to Barney. “Why don’t I go over to that store across the street and get some more?”

Barney reached for his wallet. “You need some money?”

Waving him off, Harp said, “I got it.” As had become his habit anytime he left the room, he tucked the copy of
Lost Horizon
under his arm before opening the door.

“Oh,” Barney said as Harp stepped outside. “Get some Gatorade, too. That’ll be good for him.”

“Anything else?” Harp asked.

Barney and Pep shook their heads.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as the door closed, Barney stretched out on the other bed and made himself comfortable. On the TV, the images flew by as Pep flipped through the channels, searching for something to watch. He ended up stopping on
Judge Judy
.

“Really?” Barney asked.

Pep chuckled. “These people are all idiots. I love watching them make fools of themselves.”

It was definitely not the show Barney would have chosen, but Pep was the patient, and the patient got what he wanted. Barney leaned back and closed his eyes, figuring he’d catch a few minutes’ rest before Harp got back.

When he opened them again, he felt like his body was covered in molasses. It took extra effort to sit up. He always felt this way if he slept for more than fifteen minutes.

On the other bed, Pep was snoring, the remote moving up and down on his chest. A gunshot rang out from the TV, causing Barney to look over. Though the channel number was the same as before,
Judge Judy
was gone and a rerun of some cop show was playing.

He checked his watch, and thought perhaps it was broken. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. It said the same thing—12:07 p.m. When Barney lay down, it had only been a little after eleven.

“Harp?” he said, holding his voice down so he wouldn’t wake Pep.

There was no answer.

He got to his feet and walked to the bathroom.

“Harp?”

No one was there.

Must have gone back out when he saw we were asleep.

But if that was the case, where was the water or the Gatorade?

Barney slipped on his shoes, grabbed his phone, and went outside. From the walkway he could see the store where Harp was headed, but Harp was nowhere in sight.

With growing anxiety, he called Harp’s phone.

Two rings, then voice mail.

“Hey, where are you?” Barney asked once the beep sounded. “Thought you were coming right back. Just…well…call me.”

Of course
, he realized. What probably happened was, the mini-market didn’t have the Gatorade he’d asked for, so Harp must have taken it upon himself to find it elsewhere. That sounded just like him.

Barney slipped his phone into his pocket and turned to go back inside, but he paused before grabbing the knob.

Yes, it did make sense, but…better to check, right?

He went down the stairs, peeked into the motel office in case Harp was in there, then walked across the street and into the market.

The cashier was sitting on a stool behind the counter, reading a copy of
Entertainment Weekly
. Instead of bothering him, Barney did a quick search through the store.

Harp wasn’t there, and there was plenty of Gatorade in the refrigerated section.

“Excuse me,” he said to the clerk when he got back up front.

The guy looked up, startled, and jumped off his stool. “Sorry. Find everything you need?”

“Actually, I’m wondering if a man came in here about forty-five minutes ago and bought some water and Gatorade. He’d be about my age, an inch or two shorter than me, but with more hair.”

“No, not that I can remember.”

“You’re sure?”

The guy shrugged. “The only people in here during the last hour were a couple of my friends, and a woman with two kids. No older guy. And I haven’t sold any Gatorade all day.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

I must have gotten the store wrong
, Barney thought as he went back outside.

He looked up and down the block. There was a gas station with a little store attached on the neighboring corner, and another about a block down. Barney tried both, but no one had seen Harp.

No longer just a little worried, he called the hospital, but no one had been admitted all morning. He then tried the police, who’d had no reports involving an elderly gentleman.

Hurrying back to their motel room, he hoped that somehow they’d crossed paths without realizing it, but when he opened the door, everything was the same as it had been when he left.

Harp, where are you?

He did the only other thing he could think of and called Logan, but like with the call to Harp, he was put through to voice mail.

“Logan, it’s Barney. Call me as soon as you get this. I don’t know, but I think something might have happened to your dad. I can’t find him. Call me. Please.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-E
IGHT

T
HE BUZZ SOUNDED
like it was coming from under Erica’s seat. It was rhythmic—on, off, on, off—and after the fourth buzz, it stopped.

She thought maybe something had gotten stuck beneath the car, vibrated against the undercarriage, and finally fallen free.

But then there were two more, both the buzzes and the gaps between shorter this time.

She pulled to the side of State Route 64, climbed out of the car, and checked to see if she could find the source.

Her first instinct had been right. It had been wedged beneath her seat. A cell phone.

Harper’s or Martin’s
.

She tried to activate the display but the cell was password protected. Not a big deal. There were ways of getting around that if need be.

She opened the back door. On the floor were the other phone and the men’s wallets and keys.  She grabbed the second cell and put both of them on the front passenger seat. If they rang again, she wanted to see who was calling. That might come in handy.

She decided to check the tracking device before she pulled back onto the road, and was glad she did. Harper’s car was stopped about seven miles ahead. She watched it, waiting to see if it moved again, but it didn’t.

Ever since they’d turned off the interstate, Erica had known she’d made the right choice to follow them. If last night’s events had scared off Harper and his friend, they would still be on I-40, heading back to California. But a detour toward the Grand Canyon, the park where Diana had once worked? To her, that had to mean they were still on Sara’s trail.

She checked the monitor again. Harper’s car had not moved. Were they waiting for something? Perhaps Sara herself? There was no way she’d learn that from the device in her hand. She needed to see with her own eyes.

She pulled back onto the road, nearly cutting off a camper. The other driver laid on his horn and shouted silently at her through the window, but he disappeared as Erica sped away.

Every few seconds, she would glance at the monitor. When the dot was only a mile and a half away, she gazed ahead, trying to pick out the El Camino in the distance. But though the view was clear, there were enough dips and turns in the road to make it impossible to see the other vehicle. The terrain caused another problem, too. Once she was close enough to see the truck, she wouldn’t be able to pull over without the men noticing. Hell, just driving by would be taking a chance, but that was one thing she couldn’t avoid. She needed to know what was going on.

She sped up so that she was tucked in close to the car in front of her. Hopefully that would provide the shield she needed.

It wasn’t until she was half a mile away that the El Camino finally came into view, its blue exterior standing out in sharp contrast to the browns and tans and greens of the plain.

She hunched down in an effort to change her profile but it was unnecessary. Harper and Martin were sitting in the cab of the truck, talking.

And they were alone.

Damn
. She’d been hoping the girl was with them. She could have then simply neutralized the situation, and walked away with the woman. Even if it had been Diana and not Sara, it would have been worth the risk.

What the hell are they doing?

She kept going for two miles, then turned down a dirt road and stopped. She grabbed her phone and called Clausen.

“Update?” she asked.

“We’re on our way.”

Good.
“How far are you from Williams?”

“About an hour and a half away.”

“Cut it to an hour, but call me before you get there and I’ll tell you exactly where to go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Were you able to learn anything new?”

“He’s definitely the guy’s father.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Get anything else out of him?”

“No,” Clausen said, his voice lowering to a whisper. “He’s not being very cooperative. I could try something…more aggressive.”

Erica considered the idea. “No. Not yet.” She paused before adding, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t make the threat.”

She hung up, switched to the monitoring screen, and waited for the dot to move again.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-N
INE

H
ARP HAD NEVER
had a gun pointed at him in his life, at least not until he reached the bottom of the staircase at the Desert Inn Motel.

“You open your mouth even to breathe and I pull the trigger. Understand?”

The man standing in front of Harp was the same one he’d talked to in the hospital cafeteria just a little while earlier. Harp nodded.

“Good. We’re going to walk to my car and go for a ride. You first.”

Harp remained riveted to the bottom step. “I’m not getting in your—”

“I said, don’t open your mouth. That’s your only warning. Let’s go.”

Harp knew he had no choice. Even if he’d been younger, he’d have been no match for the man. Unlike his son, Harp had never had any military training, and the only real fight he’d ever been in was in fifth grade. That had ended quickly with him on the ground and Donald Yeager standing over him, laughing.

The car turned out to be a dark blue sedan. A second man was sitting behind the wheel, his face blank as Harp climbed reluctantly into the backseat. The gunman followed and shut the door.

“Let me see that,” the man said.

He reached out and grabbed the copy of
Lost Horizon
from Harp’s hands.

“No!” Harp said, trying to get it back.

The man frowned at him. “Sit back.”

As their car pulled away, he leafed through the book and then tossed it on the floor.

“Please, can I just hold it?” Harp asked.

“So you can try to hit me with it later? I don’t think so.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Shut up.”

No one said anything else as they drove through town before getting on the interstate heading east.

The silence continued until they reached Arizona, when the gunman looked over and said, “So, Mr. Harper, perhaps you should tell us what you were doing in Braden.”

Harp’s initial fear had ebbed. Now he felt a surge of anger. “This is kidnapping,” he said. “And across state lines. Do you realize what kind of trouble you two are in?”

“Seems to me you’re the only one in trouble here.” The man adjusted his hand holding the gun. “What were you doing in Braden?”

“None of your business.”

“What about Logan?”

“Logan? You leave him alone!”

The man paused. “Why did your…son leave town?”

“He had to take care of some business.”

The man smiled as if Harp had just told him something important. “Why is he interested in Diana Stockley?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of her.”