Every Precious Thing (19 page)

Alan didn’t say anything right away, then, “I just need to know she’s safe.”

“When she is, I’ll tell you.”

Logan could hear Alan breathing on the other end.

“As soon as you can,” Alan said.

“I promise.”

Alan hung up.

“You need anything, you let me know,” Callie said before doing the same.

Logan set down Diana’s phone.

“When she is what?” Diana asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“You said, ‘when she is, I’ll tell you.’”

Logan had to think back. “Safe. Alan wanted to know that she was safe.”

“She is. For the moment.”

Logan looked at her. “Sara’s your sister.”

Diana nodded.

“Is Sara even her name?”

“Yes.”

“But everything else about her was a lie?”

Diana didn’t respond.

“You need to tell me what’s going on,” Logan said. “It’s the only way I can figure out how to help you.”

“I never said we needed your help.”

He leaned back. “Those people who took Dev and me out to the forest, they were in Braden, too. Who are they?”

She looked surprised. “They were in Braden?”

He nodded. “They’re the ones you’re really scared of, aren’t they? You thought that’s who we were, right?”

“Yes.”

“You see now that we’re not.”

The look on her face said she wanted to believe that but wasn’t sure.

“All right. Tell me this. Is there any possibility that they or others who might be working with them could find Sara tonight?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

He sensed no hesitation in her answer.

Dr. Paskota, though, was obviously following a similar lead to the one Logan had, so he needed to make sure. “She’s not staying someplace you used to live while you worked at the Grand Canyon, is she?”

Diana looked at him, surprised.

“It’s the next logical place the others will look,” Logan said. “If that’s where she is, she isn’t safe.”

There was a pause before Diana said, “No. That’s not where she is.”

“But it is in the same area, isn’t it?”

She said nothing.

Safe? Not safe? Until Diana trusted him more, there was just no way to know. So, how much time did they actually have? He’d have to trust she was right.

“I have a suggestion,” he said. “Why don’t we find someplace to get a little rest? It’ll give you time to think. We can figure out what to do after that.”

It was a huge gamble, but he didn’t know what else to do.

She eyed him curiously, as if she were trying to decipher some hidden agenda.

“Okay,” she finally said.

Since Diana’s car was a rental, Logan instructed Dev to return to the El Camino. While the other two climbed in, Logan popped the hood and reached down along the engine to where his spare key was hidden.

Their first stop was the car Logan had brought up from Braden. From the trunk, he removed his and Dev’s bags, and they drove off.

On the outskirts of town, they found a motel, and took a single room with two queen-sized beds. Before they went to sleep, Logan pulled an envelope out of his bag. If anything would convince Diana he was on her side, he was sure this would be it. He dropped it on the bed beside her without a word.

She gave it a casual glance, and then looked at it again, surprised.

“Alan loaned that to me,” Logan said as Diana picked it up. “You’re the one who left it in his trunk after you took Sara’s luggage, aren’t you?”

Diana stared at the envelope that contained the note from her sister to the brother-in-law she had yet to meet. “Yes,” she whispered.

Logan nodded. After a moment, she stood, took a few steps toward the bathroom, then stopped.

“May I have my purse?”

“Of course,” he said. He grabbed it off the dresser and handed it to her.

He wasn’t naïve, but she wasn’t his prisoner, so, with the exception of her gun, he couldn’t justify keeping her things from her.

“Thank you,” she said, and carried it into the bathroom.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-T
WO

D
IANA WANTED TO
trust Harper. More than anything, she wanted to believe he could actually help.

Unfortunately, the past few years had taught her the only ones she could truly trust were Sara and Richard, her sister and brother.

Anyone else was suspect.

Yet she couldn’t deny that the man on the other end of the phone call had been Sara’s husband. The address had been correct. Then, as if that hadn’t been enough, Logan had pulled out the letter Sara had written for her husband.

She didn’t know what to do.

She needed time to think it through, work it out.

She sat on the edge of the tub, and unzipped the side pocket in her purse. From it, she withdrew the photo that had been taped to the bottom of her nightstand in Braden. She looked at the kids in the photo.

Though he was only eleven at the time, Richard was already well on his way to six feet tall. Seven-year-old Sara was on his shoulders, smiling and laughing. And spraying them both with water from a hose was Diana. She’d been thirteen, and so grown-up even then. Fifteen minutes later, their aunt had come home and scolded them about making a mess in the yard, but for that precise moment, that little slice of time captured on camera by one of Diana’s friends, she and Richard and Sara had been happy.

She touched the image, her finger tracing the outlines of her brother and sister, and herself.

Finally, she put the picture away, pulled out her Blackberry and sent Richard a text.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-T
HREE

H
ARP SAT IN
the chair by the window of his motel room, the book in his hands. It had been at least ten years since he’d last picked up
Lost Horizon
. Before that, the intervals were shorter, maybe every three or four years. It was the only way he knew how to reconnect with Tom.

While the story of Shangri-La, a paradise hidden in the Himalayas, had always intrigued Harp, his older brother had thought it had an almost magical quality.

“Someday I’m going to find it,” Tom said once.

This confused Harp. “Isn’t it just a story and not a real place?”

His brother smiled. “I don’t mean the Shangri-La in the book.” He tapped the side of his head. “I mean my Shangri-La. It’s out there somewhere. I just gotta find it.”

This did little to clear things up for Harp, but he was used to hearing Tom talk like that, spouting off ideas and dreams that seemed real only because of the way his brother spoke of them.

Until Harp’s wife died, the day the telegram arrived at the farm telling Harp’s parents that Tom was missing and presumed dead was the worst day in Harp’s life. Still, he’d held out hope. Presumed dead wasn’t
officially
dead.

Even before the war ended, Harp had concocted a story in which Tom’s plane had gone down near one of the Indonesian islands. Tom had been able to get to shore, but in the wreck had hit his head and forgotten his past. Amnesia stories were big at the movies. Why couldn’t it have happened with Tom? In Harp’s mind, his brother had married an island girl, had spent his days fishing from canoes and playing on the beach. In a way, Harp had constructed a Shangri-La for him.

Now, nearly seventy years later, there was still a part of him that believed Tom was alive out there somewhere.

With a grunt, Barney pushed himself out of bed. “Morning,” he said as he shuffled into the bathroom.

Harp finished the chapter then closed the book. Doing so reminded him of the fact that Logan still had Len’s letter.

He still wasn’t sure how he was going to handle it. He knew why Len had left it for him, what he wanted Harp to do. They had talked about it many times, the trip they were going to take together, the trip Len said Harp had to take, even if alone. Harp just wasn’t sure he could.

As he’d done several times before, he tried to tell himself he could think about it later, but later was getting closer and closer. He would have to make a decision.

He owed it to Len, but more importantly, he owed it to Tom.

Later
, he thought again.

__________

A
S SOON AS
Barney was ready, they returned to the hospital. As they walked through the lobby, the receptionist—the kind one, not the judgmental prude who was there the first day—greeted them with a big smile. “Mr. Harper, Dr. Needham, good morning.”

“Morning, Myra. How are you doing today?” Harp asked.

“Just fine, thank you. I have good news for you.”

The two men walked over to the counter. “Really? What news?”

“Your friend’s being discharged this morning.”

“Excuse me?” Harp said.

“Are you sure?” Barney asked.

As far as both men were concerned, this was
not
good news. While Pep had been improving, he was still pretty banged up.

Taken aback by their response, Myra said, “Oh…um…I was told he was cleared to go home.”

“Who told you that?” Harp asked.

“Perhaps you need to speak with Dr. Groves,” she said. Groves was Pep’s main doctor.

 “Is he in?” Barney asked.

“He’s in the hospital somewhere. If he’s not near your friend’s room, he won’t be far.”

As they turned to make their way to Pep’s room, they nearly ran into a young guy in a suit who’d been waiting behind them.

“Sorry,” the guy said.

“It’s okay,” Harp told him. He and Barney then marched over to the hallway.

They found Pep already dressed in his street clothes, sitting uncomfortably in a wheelchair near the bed. Dr. Groves, however, was not present.

“Hey,” Pep said.

“What’s this about you being discharged?” Barney asked.

“Yeah, they’re letting me leave.”

“Whose idea was that?”

Pep shrugged. “The doctor came in this morning and said he saw no reason to keep me another night.”

Harp and Barney shared a look then turned back to Pep.

“Have they
looked
at you?” Harp asked. “You’re in no shape to leave.”

“I’m going to find Dr. Groves,” Barney announced, and strode out of the room.

“Honestly, Mr. Harper,” Pep said. “I really don’t want to stay any longer.”

“Of course you don’t,” Harp said. “Who would? But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stay.”

“I can’t help your son from a hospital bed.”

“Don’t even worry about that. Logan’s got everything in hand.”

Pep looked surprised. “Did he find her?”

“He’s close, I think.”

“All the more reason for me to get out of here.”

Before Harp could respond, Barney returned.

“…just plain dumb,” he was saying. “Whoever came up with those guidelines is an idiot.”

Following right behind him was the doctor.

“I can’t argue with you,” Groves said. “A few more days would be great, but strictly speaking, whether he rests here or at home isn’t going to make a lot of difference. And since his insurance won’t cover the extra days, staying any longer would come out of his pocket.”

“They’ll pay if you say it’s necessary,” Barney argued.

“But I can’t say it’s necessary. If I did, I’d have to apply that standard to all our patients. And you know what will happen then? Insurance companies will stop approving treatments here, and the medical center will have to shut down. There’s a bigger picture here than you’re considering.”

“I think you’re exaggerating.”

“I wish I was,” the doctor said in a conciliatory tone. He turned his attention to Pep. “Mr. Pepper, I wish we could keep you longer, but the thing you need now more than anything else is rest. You can do that just as well in your own bed as here.”

“It’s okay, Doctor. I’m fine with it.”

Groves gave him a thankful smile. “They’re finishing up your paperwork. You should be good to go in fifteen minutes or so.”

“Thanks.”

The doctor glanced at Harp and Barney. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry about the situation, and I do agree with you, but there’s nothing I can do. I have other patients I need to see, so if you’ll excuse me…”

As soon as he was gone, Barney said to Pep, “When I was starting out as a doctor, you would have been in the hospital for a week,
minimum
.”

“I would have also had to watch debut episodes of
I Love Lucy
,” Pep said.

“What’s wrong with
I Love Lucy
?” Harp asked.

A nurse entered the room, carrying a handful of documents for Pep to sign. While Barney helped him understand what was what, Harp took a walk down to the cafeteria to grab some coffee. As he was pouring his cup, the guy in the suit who’d been behind him and Barney at the reception desk walked up.

“How is it?” the man asked, nodding at the coffee maker.

“Passable,” Harp told him.

“I guess passable will do.”

His cup full, Harp moved to the side to add some cream and sugar.

“Sorry again about earlier,” the man said as he poured his own cup.

“Our fault. We weren’t paying attention.”

The man smiled, and looked around. “Hate these places, know what I mean?”

“Hospitals?”

“Yeah. Give me the creeps.”

“I guess they could. Don’t bother me, though.”

“I take it you’re not a patient,” the man said.

“Do I look like a patient?”

The man gave Harp a quick once-over. “Nah. Visiting someone?”

“A friend’s being released in a few minutes.”

“Good for him. Oh, sorry. Him or her?”

“Him.”

“Well, good for him.” The man took a sip of his coffee, testing it. “I’m Leon. Leon Clausen.”

He held out his hand and Harp took it.

“Neal Harper.”

For a split second it seemed as if Harp’s name registered with the man, but the look was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “You live in Braden?” Clausen asked.