Every Precious Thing (22 page)

“I highly doubt that.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” Harp replied.

“What were you doing in Braden?”

Harp repeated his previous statement, and kept repeating it with each successive question, no matter what it was. How long this went on, Harp had no idea, but it seemed like forever. Finally the gunman told the driver to pull over.

They took an exit that led to a deserted road in the middle of nowhere, and stopped along the side.

“Watch him,” the gunman said. He got out of the car and raised a phone to his ear.

The driver turned so he could see into the backseat. He grinned as he reached under his jacket and pulled out a gun, aiming it at Harp.

It was overkill as far as Harp was concerned. As much as he would have liked to run, there was nowhere for him to go. And that was if he was able to run. He was almost eighty, for God’s sake. The best he could manage was a medium-paced walk. The others wouldn’t even break a sweat catching him.

He glanced at the floor. Could he at least chance grabbing Tom’s book? He wanted to more than anything, but he doubted the driver would be too receptive if he tried.

Outside, the gunman paced until he finished his call. “Let’s go,” he said as he climbed back in.

They reentered the freeway.

“Mr. Harper,” the gunman said. “Let’s try this again. What were you doing in Braden?”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

The gunman gave him his now familiar grin. “That phone call was an update from one of our colleagues. I thought perhaps you’d like to know what’s being done to your son.”

“What?” Harp said, confused.

“Logan is being as uncooperative as you’ve been so far. So it looks like our friend will be forced to use stronger methods.”

“What do you mean? He’d better not hurt him!”

“Or what?”

Harp hesitated, then said, “I don’t believe you. Logan wouldn’t let himself get caught.”

“I don’t think anyone ever plans on getting caught, but your son and his friend…what was his name? Martin? Things didn’t turn out the way they anticipated.”

Harp’s skin grew cold as blood rushed to his heart.
Oh God, no!

“So, I guess it’s up to you. You cooperate and everyone will be fine. You don’t? Well, I’m sure you can imagine.” He paused. “What were you doing in Braden?”

Harp stared at the back of the seat in front of him. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that just because he cooperated, nothing would happen to Logan and Dev, but he knew for certain something would if he didn’t. Two choices, neither of them good.

“We’re…we’re helping a friend.”

“To do what?”

Harp let out a defeated breath. “To find his wife.”

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY

“I
T’S TEN FORTY,”
Dev said.

Logan stared out at the road heading toward the canyon. “I know.”

Diana’s message had said if she wasn’t there by ten thirty, she wasn’t coming.

“Five more minutes,” he said.

“Okay.”

The question of, “And then what?” hung in the air between them, but Logan didn’t have an answer for that yet.

He checked the rearview mirror. The line of cars and vans and RVs continued. The problem was, he wasn’t sure if she would be coming from the Williams end or the Grand Canyon end. Or if she was coming at all.

Two more minutes passed, three, then—

The cell phone rang in a loud, inane tune that someone at the manufacturer had deemed appropriate. Since this was the first call Logan had received on it, adjusting the settings to vibrate hadn’t occurred to him.

He hit the green button, cutting off the noise. “Hello.”

“You’re playing some kind of joke on me, right?” Ruth asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“The phone numbers you asked me to locate.”

“What about them?”

“I’m looking at a live map right now. I’ve got the phone you’re using right in the center. I see you’re taking a little vacation to the Grand Canyon.”

“Did you locate the others?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Ruth, what are you talking about?”

“Seriously?” she asked.

Keeping his calm, Logan said, “I appreciate your help, and I know I’ve asked a lot. But if you know where the other phones are, please just tell me.”

“Well, you should know where one of them is right about now.”

He started to ask if
she
was joking with
him
when Dev’s voice cut him off.

“Logan.”

Logan looked over just in time to see a ten-year-old Pontiac Grand Prix pull abreast of the El Camino’s driver’s side window. Sitting behind the wheel was a man Logan didn’t recognize, but in the passenger seat was Diana.

“I thought you didn’t have a phone,” she said, leaning through her window and staring past Dev at Logan.

“You’re late,” he told her.

“You’re lucky I came at all.”

“You believe us now?”

She pulled back inside her car. “Follow us, or don’t. It’s up to you.”

Dirt shot up from under the back tires as the other car took off.

Without having to be told, Dev started the engine and headed after them.

“Are you still there?” Logan said into the phone.

“Yes. Logan, you’re about to pass the second phone.”

“What?”

“About a mile ahead of you, on the right side of the road.”

“Which phone?” he asked, thinking Sara might be closer than he’d realized.

“Yours. Your original one, that is.”

He paused, then put his hand over the phone and said to Dev, “Dr. Paskota’s less than a mile ahead on the right.”

Dev looked surprised. “How did she find us?”

“I don’t know.” Logan brought the phone back up. “And the last phone?”

“It’s about twenty miles from your position. Off the main road, though. In fact, the map I’m looking at shows no roads within a mile of its location. You want the GPS coordinates?”

Logan opened the glove compartment, cringing a bit when he saw his dad’s letter, and rummaged around for a pen and scrap paper. Once he had them, he said, “Give them to me.”

As he was writing, Dev said, “Don’t look, but there she is.”

“You’re sure?”

“Definitely. Same gray car. Same profile.”

Dev switched his gaze to the rearview mirror.

“What’s she doing?” Logan asked.

“Nothing yet.”

To Ruth, Logan said, “Can you hold on for a few minutes? I want to see what the car we just passed does.”

“Logan, I have—”

“Please,” he said.

“Fine.”

For the next two miles, no one spoke. Then Ruth said, “He’s moving.”

“She,” Logan corrected her.

“Okay,
she’s
moving.”

“Which way?”

“After you.”

“Fast?” Logan asked, figuring the woman would want to get them in visual range.

“No. She’s going about the same speed you are.”

The same speed?
Did she feel safe leaving that much room between them because, for the moment anyway, there wasn’t really anywhere to turn off the road? But how would she know how fast they were going?

“I want to try something,” Logan said so that both Dev and Ruth could hear him. “Ruth, don’t hang up. Dev, get Diana’s attention and get them to pull over to the side.”

Dev flashed the Grand Prix with the El Camino’s lights several times, and flipped on the right turn signal. At first, the other car did nothing. Then, after Dev repeated the whole process, it slowed and angled onto the shoulder, where it stopped. Dev eased the El Camino in behind it.

“Anything happen?” Logan asked Ruth.

“No. She’s still coming your—” She stopped herself. “Hold on. She just pulled to the side of the road.”

“How far back?”

“A mile and a half.”

“Son of a bitch. Hang on.” He looked at Dev. “Check the car. She’s got us bugged somehow.”

He put the phone on the dash, hopped out, and ran over to the Grand Prix. Diana looked at him through the window for a moment before rolling it down.

“What?” she asked.

“There’s a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“One of the people from last night is following us.”

Her sense of detached self-control disappeared. “What?”

“We’re out of here,” the guy behind the wheel said as he reached for the gearshift.

“Hold on,” Logan told him. “Just give me a few minutes, okay?”

“No way,” the guy said.

Logan locked eyes with Diana. “Just a few minutes.”

“If he’s following us, won’t he be here any second?”

“Diana, don’t listen to him,” the driver said.

She shot him a look. “Richard. I’ll handle this.”

He didn’t look very happy.

Diana returned her attention to Logan, waiting for an answer.

“She won’t be.”

“She?”

“Yes.”

Diana looked apprehensive. “How do you know?”

“I do, okay?”

Neither of them spoke for several seconds.

“Two minutes,” she said. “That’s it.”

He nodded his thanks and ran back to the El Camino. Dev was on the ground halfway under the car on the passenger side.

“Anything?” Logan asked.

“I checked my side,” Dev said. “And around the front. I didn’t see anything.”

Logan looked into the bed of the truck, but with the exception of his and Dev’s bags, there was nothing there that could have hidden a tracking device.

Dev scooted out from under the car. “Nothing there, either. Maybe there isn’t anything. What if they have two cars? Someone we don’t know in the other one, keeping tabs on us?”

Logan looked out at the road. That was a possibility, but if there was someone else, they weren’t in sight at the moment.

He leaned down and felt around the wheel well on the back passenger side. Having basically rebuilt the El Camino himself, there wasn’t an inch of its surface that he didn’t know. The well was clean.

Moving quickly, he ran his hand along the inside bottom of the fender all the way to the back, then got down on his knees and moved his hand along the inside bottom of the rear bumper.

He almost missed it.

As it was, he had to go back a second time to make sure there was something there. It was small, and wasn’t right on the bottom, but up the side a bit. The only reason he found it was because it brushed against his knuckle.

Carefully, he grabbed it between his fingers and pulled. There was some resistance at first that made him wonder if it had been glued in place, but then it popped free.

He frowned. He’d seen one of these before, albeit a military-grade model. It had been developed and manufactured by one of Forbus International’s competitors.

He wrapped his fingers around it, and had to hold himself back from chucking it as far into the brush as he could.

“What the hell’s going on?” Diana called out.

She was looking back at him, her head and shoulders sticking out the window.

As he jogged toward her, he said to Dev, “Get back in the car.”

When he reached the Grand Prix, he showed Diana the tracking bug. “Who
are
these people?” he asked.

“What is that?”

“This is a Fitzer.”

“Fitzer?”

“FT3-ZR, a GPS-enabled tracking chip with a magnetic mount. It’s expensive, so not something your normal asshole is going to be walking around with. So who are they?”

Before she even tried to answer, her companion dropped the Grand Prix into gear and hit the gas. Logan jumped back and barely avoided being hit by the rear fender as the car turned onto the highway.

As he raced to the El Camino, Dev leaned over and threw open the passenger door. Once Logan was inside, Dev hit the accelerator.

“What happened?” Dev asked.

“I don’t think her friend likes me very much.”

Dev glanced at Logan’s clenched hand. “You just going to keep that?”

Logan opened his palm and glanced at the tracking chip. Until he got rid of it, Dr. Paskota could continue to track them. Which, if they played it right, was something they could use to their advantage.

He snatched up the phone, but the line was dead. He redialed Ruth’s number.

“Sorry,” Ruth said when she answered. “Had better things to do than hang on the phone and wait for you. Figured you’d call back.”

“My fault. What about our friend?”

“Following you again. Two miles back.”

“Figured. She put a hitchhiker on my bumper. A Fitzer.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Logan, what have you gotten yourself involved in?”

“I’m not sure yet. Is there any way to track where this thing came from?”

“I might be able to get it back as far as the retailer. After that, it would depend on if they tracked who bought individual pieces,” she said, sounding unsure. “How was it connected?”

“Magnetic mount.”

“You’ll have to get that off. On the underside will be the serial number.”

“Okay. Hold on. Let me try.”

He set the phone down and took a closer look at the device. The mount was affixed to the tracker via a tiny frame that fit around the edges of the square. Using the pen he’d written down the GPS coordinates with, he worked one of the edges loose and pried it down. The chip slipped easily out.

He picked up the phone, and turned the chip over.

“Dammit,” he said.

“What?”

“The serial number’s been scratched off.”

“Then there’s not much I can do.”

“Yeah, figured.”

As Logan hung up, Dev said, “Looks like our friends are playing nice again.”

They had caught up to the Grand Prix, the driver now keeping it at a steady pace and not trying to lose them.

Logan nodded.

Let’s hope it lasts.

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-O
NE

T
REES ONCE MORE
began to appear along the side of the road, short and scattered at first, then growing in both height and density.