Gone Missing (9 page)

Joslyn's heart blipped. “How could Martin try to kill his own daughter?”

“What other explanation is there?”

“We don't know for certain these men are connected to Martin. Just because of the candy...” But she couldn't think of any other reason Fiona would be in that section of Los Angeles other than to see Martin.

“We've been assuming the bomb at Fiona's house was meant to kill her,” Clay said. “But maybe it was meant to prevent anyone else from finding her. Martin saw her just before she disappeared, but the house wasn't rigged until a day or two later, because her neighbor was able to get Fiona's dog out of her house without any problems.”

“I see what you're saying. If Martin wanted to kill Fiona, he'd have rigged the house sooner.”

“If that bomb in Phoenix wasn't meant for Fiona, that means the two guys after us only want to prevent us from finding her.”

“So maybe Martin is trying to protect her. Maybe he knows where she is.”

“Or maybe he's looking for her
and
trying to prevent anyone else from finding her,” Clay said darkly.

“Do you really think he'd try to harm her?”

“No,” he said slowly, “but I can believe that he needs her for something. The man is selfish to the core. Sometimes I was amazed he spared any emotion for Fiona at all.”

Joslyn was saddened by the bitterness in his tone and what Martin must have done to him to make him so angry. She'd had such a good relationship with her own father, and she hadn't appreciated it until it was too late.

Grief closed her throat, and she had to take a few deep breaths before she could speak again. “If we don't know why Fiona disappeared, I don't know where to start looking for her.”

“I thought you were going to look into what she was doing in Phoenix before she disappeared.”

“I did, a little, but I really can't find anything,” Joslyn said. “When she went to Phoenix, she was doing her best to stay off the grid. Her name was misspelled on her house rental agreement, and I thought it must have been some type of clerical error. But then I started looking into other things. She deliberately misspelled her name on her job application, her utilities, even the museum membership. It's not illegal, but it makes it harder for a skip tracer to find her.”

“So if she was already trying to hide her identity when she went to Arizona,” Clay said, “then there was something in Los Angeles that she was trying to get away from.”

“That's what I'm thinking, too. I'll do some internet digging into what she was doing in LA.”

“We should talk to her old roommates.”

“I talked to them about a week ago on the phone. I know them a little from when Fiona was in school. But we only chatted briefly, because once I heard from them that Fiona had moved to Arizona, then I knew how to target my search.”

“People are usually willing to tell you more than they intended to if you're face-to-face.” He suddenly reached out to grab her hand. She hadn't even realized she was rubbing her scar.

“Don't rub it,” he said.

“I didn't know I was,” she mumbled. Even when she wanted to, she couldn't escape that reminder from Tomas. Or rather, from his gold ring.

“I know,” he said. There was a brief silence, then he seemed to remember he was holding her hand, and released it. “When can I get out of here?”

“That's up to the doctor.”

He stretched his neck. “I feel okay.”

“The last thing I want is for you to mysteriously collapse while we're out looking for Fiona, just because we took you out of the hospital too early.”

She'd been teasing, but the look he gave her was sober. “Fiona's out there. I can't rest easy until I know she's okay.”

He was right. He had even more reason to be worried about Fiona than she did. “Let me go get a nurse. They did say they were going to cast your arm later today.”

She got up and went into the hallway. There was a uniformed officer sitting outside the room, which was a surprise to her since it had been Shaun O'Neill doing guard duty earlier, but Detective Carter must have put the officer in his place. The man nodded to her as she passed.

She headed to the nurse's station ...and froze.

Several yards ahead of her, waiting for the elevator, stood a man in a rumpled jacket that was too large for him. He didn't stand out from the people milling around him except for his dark curly hair and his unshaven face, which gave him a scruffy appearance.

He happened to turn in her direction.

His eyes fell on her, uninterested, as if he didn't recognize her. Then just the faintest hint of a smile appeared. The elevator door opened and he turned and walked nonchalantly inside.

It was Met.

NINE

I
t felt good for Clay to be doing something. Being stuck in the hospital, unable to search for Fiona, had driven him crazy with worry.

He stood outside the house where Fiona had rented a room, a seventies-style house in a Los Angeles suburb. While Joslyn rang the doorbell, his eyes roved around the quiet neighborhood. It was hard for him to remember he was in LA because this was a cozier area than any he'd lived in for the few years during his childhood when he'd been here with his mother, Martin and Fiona. They'd been in a more upscale part of the city since Martin's business had started booming around that time and appearances were everything.

But despite the deceptively sleepy street, he kept careful watch of every car, every pedestrian. He'd been incredibly frustrated yesterday when Joslyn had told him about seeing Met at the hospital. Just when she might have needed protection, he'd been holed up in a bed like an invalid.

The hospital hadn't been all bad. He'd stayed overnight for observation, but Joslyn had been in his room the entire time, whether sitting by his bed and talking to him, or off in the corner on her computer. Liam O'Neill and his brother Shaun had also visited, as well as a bandaged-up Elisabeth who'd said she looked worse than she felt. Clay had found out that Liam, Shaun and one of their other brothers, Brady, all trained at a local mixed martial arts gym in Sonoma, so they'd talked MMA for a while.

Surprisingly, he'd found himself opening up about how he wanted to go professional in MMA but couldn't because of a knee injury from his mob henchman days. He hadn't gotten good rehab and it was still weak and filled with scar tissue, and Liam had mentioned that he knew a good physical therapist in Sonoma who could help him with that.

It made him want to stay here.

Joslyn and her friends made him feel wanted. It was different from the friendships he had in Illinois. There was a level of genuine concern, a deeper sense of inner peace, in each of these people. He thought it had to do with what Liam had said before he left.

“I'll be praying for you.”

The words came naturally to him, effortlessly, as if he had a close, comfortable relationship with God. Which made Clay uncomfortable because he didn't have a great relationship with the Almighty, himself.

Other Christians he'd met had seemed judgmental, especially when they found out he'd been in prison, or if they heard him cussing. It was in the tightness of their smiles and the way they seemed to hold themselves apart from him. He hadn't wanted anything to do with them if that was how they treated others.

But Joslyn and her friends weren't like that. Even when he'd accidentally dropped some bad words, they hadn't flinched. They seemed to like him for who he was. They made him feel as if he was someone they wanted to get to know better.

They'd also arranged for new clothes for him, and a new car for him and Joslyn, borrowing it from a friend of Shaun's wife's sister, or something like that. It would make it harder for anyone to connect it with them.

They'd only said goodbye when the doctor and a nurse came in to cast his splinted arm, now that the swelling had gone down. The doctor had set it, then left the nurse to wrap the coated strips over it in a plaster cast. He'd go in for a fiberglass cast in a week. Liam and Elisabeth had driven partway down to Los Angeles alongside them in separate cars to make sure there wasn't anyone following them, before turning back to head to Sonoma when it was obvious they weren't being tailed. It had been an extra precaution that Clay had appreciated.

The door to the house opened, and a young African-American woman peered out at the two of them. Then she smiled at Joslyn. “Hey, Joslyn! Did you find Fiona?”

“Hi, Anna. No, unfortunately.”

“Oh, that's too bad.” Anna looked again at Clay, and her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute, are you Clay?”

“Fiona's brother, yeah.”

“Oh, my gosh, you really do look exactly like her. I mean, I saw some photos of you, but they were from a few years ago. Come on in, both of you.”

The house was inviting despite its age. It had had a fresh coat of paint recently, although the hardwood floors were full of nicks and scratches collected over the years. The living room was small and low-ceilinged, but neatly furnished with reupholstered chairs and a faded floral couch. There were various things scattered around, including a football, a softball bat, a basket of knitting, and a stack of books on a table.

“Sorry for the mess,” Anna said. “It's Chuck's turn to clean the living room but he's been in the middle of finals this week.”

“How many people live here?” Clay asked.

“There's four of us,” Anna said. “We each have a bedroom, and we share the cooking and cleaning chores. It makes it more affordable for us to live in this area.”

“I'll bet.” He'd never had to pay rent while living in LA, but he remembered the price of apartments in Chicago, which was much higher than the cheap cost of living in southern Illinois, where he was now.

“Want some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.” Without waiting for an answer, Anna sailed out of the living room.

Clay eased himself into a large oak chair, while Joslyn sat next to him in a dainty antique-y looking thing with spindly legs.

“Here you go.” Anna came in with a tray with three mugs of coffee, as well as spoons, creamer, and sugar. “Chuck says I'm a terrible hostess, so be sure to tell him what I did for you, okay?” She winked at Joslyn. “Are you done with your master's yet?”

“I'm taking my last semester up in Sonoma,” Joslyn said. “How about you?”

They chatted for a few minutes about themselves. Anna was interested in Clay since Fiona mentioned him, but not much about him, to her roommates. He was also grateful when some of Anna's questions were too probing and Joslyn smoothly interjected with comments that distracted the other woman's train of thought.

Finally Anna said, “So you didn't find Fiona in Arizona? I'm not sure what else we can tell you. She was pretty tight-lipped about why she was moving there. Do you think she's in trouble?”

“We really don't know,” Joslyn said. “You didn't notice her buying anything special before she moved out?”

“No. You know Fiona—she's all computers and candy. I don't know how she can eat so much sugar and not gain an ounce.” Anna sighed.

At that moment, there was a key in the front door, then a young Asian woman appeared. She spotted Joslyn and grinned. “Hey, Joslyn! I didn't get to see you when you came by last time.” She put down her backpack and gave Joslyn a hug.

“Mariella! I'd heard you'd moved in here. How are you doing?”

She rolled her eyes. “I just keep telling myself, I'm almost done, and everything will stop being so crazy once I graduate.” Her eye fell on Clay. “Are you Clay? You look so much like Fiona.”

“I get that a lot.” He shook her hand.

“I'm Mariella. I was in the same master's degree program as Joslyn and Fiona. Does this mean you didn't find Fiona? We've been worried.”

“We're hoping to find out more about why she left LA,” Joslyn said. “We think it might have to do with why she disappeared.”

“I wasn't living here when Fiona was, but Anna would know,” Mariella said.

“We were all shocked when she said she was going,” Anna said. “She left within a week of telling us, although she'd paid up her rent through the quarter.”

“Did she do anything weird?” Joslyn asked.

“Aside from packing so quickly? Nope,” Anna said.

“Oh, but...” Mariella said, “we have a box of hers that I found a few months ago in the attic. She accidentally left it behind, and since we didn't know how to get in touch with her...”

“Oh, that's right,” Anna said. “I'd forgotten about that. Did you want to take the box with you?”

“Definitely,” Joslyn said.

“Is it heavy?” Clay asked.

“I'm not sure,” Mariella said. “I didn't lift it. I just shoved it to one side after I realized it was Fiona's.”

“I'll go up to get it.” He rose to his feet.

Unlike the large attics of Victorian houses, this attic was barely a crawl space. It was a bit awkward with one arm in a cast, but Clay made his way across rafters draped in dust until he found a bunch of boxes against the side. Mariella had scrawled “Fiona” across the box she'd found, so it was easy for him to see it and drag it out of the attic. He lowered it to Mariella's and Joslyn's waiting hands, then dropped down from the access hole, which was in Chuck's closet.

Mariella and Joslyn both coughed at the dust kicked up into the air from the box. “Chuck probably won't even notice the dust,” Mariella said, glancing around at Chuck's messy room with distaste. “Still, I'll offer to help him clean later.”

“I'll carry this outside to knock off the dust,” Clay said. He hefted the box, which clinked as if there were china plates inside.

On the landing of the stairs was a narrow window that looked out to the street in front, and he happened to glance out. Or maybe it was the movement out front that caught his eye. Either way, he paused.

Met and G had just exited a black sedan. G reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun.

* * *

Joslyn was following Clay down the stairs when she saw him look out the window and freeze. And just that intent expression on his face made her entire body tense.

Suddenly he was shoving the dusty box into her arms. “Call the police. No matter what happens, don't come out of the house until the police arrive, do you hear me?” And then he launched himself down the rest of the stairs and out the front door.

“What's going on?” Mariella asked.

“Call the police, right now,” Joslyn said. She rushed to the window and looked out, and at first she couldn't see anything. She shifted the box so she could lean closer to the window and look down.

Met and G were in the process of sneaking around the side of the house when Clay hurled himself at G.

Joslyn set the box down on the landing and pulled her firearm from her flashbang holster. Mariella, who was on her cell phone with the 9-1-1 operator, stared at her with wide eyes. She stuttered as she gave the address of the house.

Joslyn ran downstairs and locked the front door. She ran into the empty living room, where she could look out the window to the side and front yards.

Clay rolled around on the grass with G, struggling to gain control of a gun. Joslyn's heart thudded against the base of her throat. But Met...where was Met? He wasn't in the strip of grass that ran along the side of the house. She peered out the window and saw that the gate that separated the front from the backyard was cracked open.

Joslyn raced to the back door of the house. Was it locked? She guessed so—after all, this was LA. She arrived in the kitchen in time to see the doorknob jiggle. The knob was locked, but the deadbolt wasn't. She slammed her weight against the door and threw the deadbolt. Then she rolled out of the way, to the wall on the side of the door.

She was just in time. Met shot a round through the door where she'd been standing only a split second before. Through the doorway into the hallway, she saw someone duck into the living room at the same time she heard a woman's squeal.

Met began throwing his weight against the back door.

Joslyn grabbed the heavy oak breakfast table and tipped it on its end with a thud that made the floor shake. She dragged it so that the top faced the back door and her back was to the hallway.

Behind her, she saw Mariella peek out from behind the doorframe of the living room.

“Are you all right?” Joslyn whispered.

Mariella nodded.

“Where's Anna?”

“In her room.”

“Get into the second floor bathroom and lock the door,” Joslyn told her. “Then both of you get into the tub.” She'd used the bathroom there a couple times in the past, and knew the heavy porcelain would protect them from any stray bullets.

Mariella darted across the hallway and pounded up the stairs.

“I know you're in there, Joslyn,” Met said through the door. His voice was oily, confident. “We have Clay. Give yourself up and we won't hurt him.”

She only had to stall them until the police arrived. But what if they killed Clay before that happened?

But if she left the house, they'd take both her and Clay. They might hurt Mariella and Anna, too.

Then Clay's voice sounded from behind the back door, “She's not in there. I came alone.”

“I know you're lying,” Met said calmly to Clay.

Then Clay's voice shot out in a cry of pain.

Joslyn's hands tightened around her weapon. She forced herself to breathe, to relax. She had to stay calm, stay focused.

“Joslyn, come out or we'll send Clay here to his step-daddy in little pieces.”

What? Did that mean they weren't working for Martin?

Clay must have realized that, too, because he gave a low laugh. “He's not going to care about me. Your boss doesn't have all his facts right.”

Moving quietly and staying low, Joslyn crept from behind the table until she was behind the sink. She slowly rose until she could see outside the window that hung right over the sink.

G held Clay's arms behind his back. There were fresh cuts on Clay's face, and his hair was a wild blond mess around his head. Clay's left shoulder was hitched a little higher than the other, and she wondered if he'd reinjured his broken arm in its cast.

Met was hissing something to G, obviously displeased about something. Maybe they had expected to take them by surprise, which wouldn't have allowed Joslyn and the others time to call the police or barricade themselves inside the house. Thanks to Clay, they hadn't been blindsided.

Met's face was red. He pointed his gun directly at Clay's bent head, and Joslyn couldn't breathe.