As Good as Dead (14 page)

Angel sighed. “I’m totally at fault. I know you have to look at all the angles. I had no business getting angry with you.”

“No harm done, except for lack of sleep. You don’t know how many times I almost got up to come over here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, it’s out of my hands now. Detective Downs will do a good job.” He took hold of her hands and guided her to the chair. “Now
eat your breakfast before it gets cold.” After pouring her some coffee, he headed back to the master suite to play carpenter.

Angel spread boysenberry jam on her toast and pulled the
Oregonian
toward her and began scanning the headlines. The idea came with the impact of a lightning flash. She knew how to find Luke.

While he’d lived in Florida, her brother had kept his subscription to the local paper, saying he never got Oregon news out there and wanted to keep up. Suppose he was still getting the paper? How difficult would it be to find out who in Idaho subscribed to the
Oregonian
? Would the paper release information about their subscribers? Probably not. Still, someone she knew might know someone who knew someone who worked there.

Callen, or rather Detective Downs, could get it, by subpoena if nothing else. But what would Detective Downs do if they found Luke? While she hated the idea of keeping things from the police and especially from Callen, she decided to ferret out the information herself and follow up on it. Then she’d consider whether or not to tell the police.

Angel followed breakfast with a little online research and discovered that Ethan Hathaway was indeed a professor at Stanford and at Harvard before that for twenty years. Relieved, she made a phone call, took a shower, and left for St. Matthews, where she stopped to see Rachael.

Her ex-attorney and current boss was in her cramped office, books and papers scattered over her desk, which took up most of the room. Sherlock, her cat, sat atop the bookcase and gave a wary look when Angel stopped in the doorway. “Looks like you’re up to your eyeballs in something. Are you sure you have time to talk to me?”

“Of course.” A dimpled grin spread across her face. Looking up at the cat, she said, “Sherlock can keep an eye on these papers, can’t you?”

The cat lifted a chin and meowed a definite no.

Rachael rolled her eyes. “You’d think he’d want to do something to earn his keep. But no, everything I suggest is beneath him.”

Angel chuckled. “Maybe it is.”

Rachael extricated herself from her close quarters and stepped out into the hall. “Coffee or the conference room?”

“Coffee.”

“Good.” Rachael’s conference room was actually the sanctuary at St. Matthews, and while Angel loved the ambiance with stained glass windows and statues, Joanie’s place seemed a bit more appropriate for the task at hand.

Drinks ordered, they sat in their usual chairs, with two halves of a gooey cinnamon roll with cream cheese sitting on the table between them. The coffee shop was empty except for a man in a business suit who had his face buried in a newspaper.

Angel told Rachael about the idea she’d had this morning regarding the newspaper. “The only problem I can see is getting the information.”

“Well, you could go talk to the editor-in-chief and tell him the truth. Just say you’re looking for your missing brother because your father just died. You think he may be in Idaho, but you’re sure he’s using a different name.”

“Somehow I doubt he’ll bend company policy. What do I say when he wants to know why my brother changed his name?”

Rachael picked up the plastic knife and sliced off a small piece of the roll. “Hmm.” After swallowing the bite, she said, “Okay, call the circulation department and ask if they have any papers going to Idaho.”

“Then what?” Angel bit into the roll and almost forgot why she and Rachael were talking in the first place. “Heavenly.”

“Too true. It’s a good thing she only makes these on weekends.”

They worked on their rolls and lattes for a few minutes before getting back to task.

“Actually,” Angel said, “I was hoping you’d have a computer hacker who could get into their files.”

“Angel, I’m surprised at you. That would be illegal.” She frowned. “I do have a writer friend who works there, though. Does restaurant reviews. She might be able to access the files.”

“Do you think she’d be willing?”

“I’ll call her when I get back to the office.”

Angel asked her not to say anything to anyone about her plan. “With Ma going to California and Callen in Portland for four days, I’ll have a perfect opportunity to go to Idaho and check these people out.”

“I don’t know, Angel. I hate to see you get your hopes up. It’s a great place to start, but what if he’s not taking the paper? What if it’s all for nothing?”

“I’ll live with it. I have nothing else to go on. And if Nick is right, if someone is after Luke, I need to warn him.”

“I suppose.” Taking a sip of her drink, Rachael said, “I’m glad you came to me. Someone needs to know where you are and what you’re up to in case there’s trouble.”

“You mean in case I get caught in the middle?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ve thought about that. No one except you is going to know about my plan. Not even the police.”

NINETEEN

P
erfect.
Cade listened to the exchange between the two women at the coffee shop, and when they left he removed the earpiece. Cordless technology. The tiny microphone he’d placed in her purse while she’d been swimming at the resort transmitted her every word into his earpiece. Not that he listened all the time. Only when it mattered, when she was with her boyfriend, or Caldwell, or the attorney. He’d learned a fair amount in these last few days.

Cade had been right to expect Luke’s little sister to take the initiative. She was smart and intuitive and resourceful. She’d lead him to Delaney. It was just a matter of time.

Cade smiled at the young lady who refilled his cup and went back to reading his paper.

TWENTY

A
t a pay phone in the lobby of the resort, Luke called the hospital, asking about Nick’s condition.

“May I ask who’s calling?” The nurse explained that they had orders to record everyone who called regarding the officer.

“I understand. I’m a friend from out of town, and I saw in the paper that he’d been shot.”

“And your name?”

“Paul,” he said, choosing a name that would not likely be challenged. “Paul Delaney.”

“Hold on a moment, please.”

Three minutes later, she came back on. “Mr. Caldwell is doing much better. He’s up walking around this morning.”

Relief flooded him. “That’s good to hear. Thanks.”

“Shall I tell him you called?”

“No, that’s all right.” He thanked her and hung up, hoping that the call hadn’t raised any red flags.

It’s only a matter of time.
He headed back upstairs to his office. Today’s
Oregonian
carried a picture of Luke Delaney—computer generated but close enough. By now he suspected every law enforcement agency in the country had been notified and would be on the lookout for him. Luke Delaney, the reporter wrote, was wanted for questioning in the shooting of a Sunset Cove police officer and a reporter for the local newspaper. In addition, there was an
outstanding warrant in an unsolved murder investigation in Florida. Fortunately the local paper hadn’t picked up the story.

As he walked into his office, Eileen stopped him. “Phone message for you. The police chief called and wants to talk to you.”

Luke’s heart stopped. “Did he say what he wanted?”

Eileen tipped her head, eyeing him with that look that intimated something was wrong. “Have you done something you shouldn’t have?”

“Not that I know of.” He forced a smile.

She smiled back. “Then quit looking so worried. Maybe he has family coming in and wants a lower rate.”

“Maybe.” He took the slip of paper and strode into his office.

Dropping into his chair, Luke slid open the middle right-hand drawer and pulled out a bottle of antacid. Why would Sam Warren be looking for him, unless he’d seen the picture and gotten the warrant information? There was only one way to find out.

Luke ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to breathe as he dialed the number.

TWENTY-ONE

T
he weekend went by in a blur of activities as Callen, Tim, and several men from the church worked on the remodel, trying to get it done before Callen had to leave for Portland. Angel spent most of the time cleaning, painting, unpacking, and moving into her new quarters and helping her mother pack for the trip.

She had a major glitch when Ma asked about the article Faith was supposed to have written about Frank. Angel had to tell her that Faith had been killed, but she didn’t mention that there might be a connection between Faith’s death and the attack on Nick.

By Saturday night everything was done, and Angel was able to sleep in her bedroom. Thoughts of Luke drifted back as always. Ma and Callen would be leaving in the morning. She could focus all of her efforts on finding him.

At 6:00 a.m. Sunday morning, Angel said good-bye to Callen and Anna. Since he was going into Portland anyway, he offered to take Anna to the airport. His classes didn’t start until Monday morning, but he wanted to stay in town Sunday night to visit friends and to get a head start.

“I hope I’m doing the right thing.” Anna drew Angel close for her umpteenth hug.

I hope I am too.
Angel gave her mother an extra squeeze, thinking about her own travel plans.

“I’ve never done anything quite so spontaneous in my life.” Anna reluctantly moved away. “It’s exciting, but I can’t help but worry about you being here alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Angel assured her. “And I think a trip to Aunt Gabby’s is just what you need.”

“Angel’s right,” Callen said, taking the last of her bags and opening the car door. “We’d better hustle or you’ll miss your plane.”

Callen’s good-bye kiss left Angel knowing he’d miss her as much as she would miss him. She wanted to tell him about her investigation into Luke’s disappearance but couldn’t. Angel felt a bit like an adolescent sneaking out on a forbidden date.
It shouldn’t be this way.
“Callen,” she began, “about Luke. I may have...”

He kissed her forehead. “I know how much you want to find him, honey. We’re doing all we can, and if you learn anything in your digging around, call Detective Downs. I told him you’d probably be searching out some leads on your own. Sorry I couldn’t introduce you two, but there hasn’t been time.”

“Right.” He didn’t want to hear about it, and she couldn’t blame him. This wasn’t the time, but his brushing aside of the issue annoyed her. She still hadn’t met Detective Downs and didn’t really want to.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “I hate good-byes.”

He grinned. “You’re just worried about not having me here to cook for you.”

“That too.” She couldn’t help but laugh at his attempted joke. “But you forget. I know how to make soup, and there’s always the Burger Shed.”

“I’ll see you on Friday.” He turned and loped to the car in an effort to avoid the rain.

When they finally drove off, Angel swept the Sunday paper off the porch, then went inside and tried to go back to sleep. After an hour of tossing, she gave up and went into the kitchen to make coffee.

As she looked out over the sand dunes at low tide, it occurred
to her that she hadn’t had a good run in days. Rain or no, she needed to get back into her routine. After donning shorts and a lightweight jacket, she let herself out the back door. The crisp, cool morning and the perpetual mist blowing into her face woke her up more surely than any caffeinated drink.

She tried not to get too excited about what she might learn from the circulation department at the paper. The possibility that Luke might still be getting the paper and that she might be able to get some leads as to his whereabouts thrilled her. Unfortunately, guilt over not confiding in Callen threatened to erode her positive thoughts. True, he’d handed everything over to Detective Downs, but he’d still want to know what she was up to. To ease her guilt, she promised herself that she’d call Callen as soon as she learned anything about her brother, and she’d definitely call him if she ended up going to Idaho.

By the time Angel got back to the house, showered, and dressed, it was time to leave for church. On the drive to St. Matthews, she remembered how reluctant she had been to go there when she’d come home from Florida. She’d been angry with God, for so many things. The anger was gone now. She’d stopped blaming God and placed the blame where it belonged—on those individuals who had committed the atrocities.

She pulled into the parking lot and as always admired the stone structure. The church had been built in 1896 and was as sturdy today as it had been back then. The steeple, with its bell tower and ornate cross, reached toward the heavens, ringing every day at noon and on Sunday mornings and for special occasions. Angel loved the sanctuary with its stained glass windows that blessed everyone present with rainbows of various sizes and shapes when the sun shone in.

The pianist was playing a medley of contemporary songs as Angel entered. She headed up to the Delaney pew, the second one on the left, where Susan was standing with the girls. Heidi and Abby scrambled around to sit on either side of their favorite, make that only, aunt. Or was she their only aunt? Luke had a family, or so he’d told the woman at the hotel. If what he had told the woman was true, the girls had another aunt and a cousin.

Rachael joined them and sat next to Heidi.

“Did you get anything?” Angel mouthed over Heidi’s head.

Rachael nodded and pulled a folded page out of her bag. Handing it to Angel, she whispered, “We’ll talk after church.”

If I last that long.
Too curious to wait, she opened the page. There were dozens of subscribers in Idaho. A long list in Sun Valley, Boise, and Coeur d’Alene. None of the names in Sun Valley looked remotely familiar. But then, what had she expected? Luke had to be using an alias. He’d used Hal Perkins’s credit card, but that had apparently been to throw off anyone who might have spotted him.