Every Precious Thing (28 page)

“What do you want me to do?” Markle asked from behind the wheel.

“Go around the block one more time. Let’s see if we can find a quiet place where we can wait.”

C
HAPTER
F
IFTY
-E
IGHT

“T
HEY JUST PARKED
at a school,” Pep said into the phone.

“It’s in the same neighborhood where Alan lives,” Barney chimed in, his voice louder than it needed to be.

“They’re just sitting there?” Logan asked.

“They were a moment ago,” Pep said. “There was no good place to watch them from so we’re a few blocks away.”

“Okay. Let me think for a second.”

The line went silent.

“We need to get Harp,” Barney said to Pep, his voice lower now.

“We will,” Pep whispered back.

“Maybe we can distra—”

“Okay,” Logan said, coming back on. “Here’s what I want you to do. Find someplace to park near Alan’s but not in direct sight. Then, if you feel up to it, Pep, I want the two of you to stroll around. It’s not likely they’ll recognize either of you, so you should be able to keep an eye on things. Barney, show him exactly where Alan’s house is.”

“Should we try to see if we can get Harp out, too?” Barney asked.

“No! It’s too dangerous for just the two of you. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” Pep said.

“Okay, good. Call me the moment anything happens.”

C
HAPTER
F
IFTY
-N
INE

“W
HY?” ALAN HAD
asked.

“I don’t have all the details,” Callie had told him. “Only that we were right. Sara
is
in trouble. But it’s more than just her. The people who are after her want Emily, too.”

“Emily? Why would they want Emily?”

Callie hadn’t had the answer for that, either. “I have a cabin in Big Bear. Take her up there. Don’t call anyone. Don’t tell anyone. I’ll have the management company I use leave a key under the mat.”

Since Sara had left, Alan had felt useless. Even though he didn’t admit it to himself at the time, he knew right after he read her note that she needed help. Later, when he really thought about it, he realized he should have known even before then.

It had been little things, moments when he’d caught her off guard, staring at the wall or the ground or nothing at all, a look of despair on her face. He knew it wasn’t him, that it couldn’t be him. She loved him so much. She told him that every day, not just in words, but in each touch and smile and glance. These were enough for him to dismiss her half-hidden anguish and moments of panic.

He was Sara’s husband, dammit. He should have pushed to find out what was wrong. He should have done everything in his power to help her
before
she left, not after. But he’d failed her, and now, if he made a mistake, he would fail Emily, too.

He should have…should have…should—

“Daddy, go Macee Donal?”

Alan looked around.

My God. How did we get here so fast?

They were on the freeway already. He didn’t even remember taking the on-ramp.

“Daddy. Macee Donal! Macee Donal!”

He glanced in back. Strapped in her car seat, Emily was shaking her hand at the window.

“Macee Donal!”

At the exit just ahead, a McDonald’s sign was raised high in the air so travelers, especially two-year-old girls, wouldn’t miss it.

“Want friend fry, Daddy. Want friend fry!”

“Not right now, sweetie. We don’t have time.”

“Daddy, Daddy, pease!” She started to cry.

He felt a tug on his heart. “Okay,” he said, moving quickly over to the right lane. The least he could do was try to keep his daughter happy. “We’ll get some fries, all right?”

“Thank you, Daddy.” She sang his name in a way he always loved. “Soda?”

“How about milk?”

“Toclate milk!” she said with enthusiasm.

“Fine. Chocolate milk.”

She giggled, and began repeating, “Friend fry, toclate milk. Friend fry, toclate milk.”

Instead of using the drive-through, Alan decided they’d go inside. He needed to calm down and get control of himself. If he stayed on the road like he was, they were going to get into an accident.

He purchased the fries and chocolate milk for Emily and a coffee for himself. They found a booth along the wall.

An older Latina walked by and smiled at Emily. “Oh, so cute,” the woman said.

Alan had to do everything in his power not to reach out and put a protective arm in front of his daughter. Who was this woman? Why was she looking at Emily? Was she here to try and take her?

“Thanks,” he said.

The woman must have sensed his strain, her smile not as bright as she moved on.

Emily was in her own happy world, gingerly dipping one fry at a time into the dollop of ketchup Alan had squeezed onto the tray liner. She held one out to him.

“You, Daddy.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” he said, taking it.

As he watched her, he couldn’t help thinking he had to do something more than just hide. Whatever problems Sara was having, they were his problems, too. That’s what being married meant. Problems were something he dealt with every day.
He
had the experience in that area, so he needed to be involved in the solution.

He looked at Emily again. “How would you like to visit Aunt Rachel?”

She nodded as she put another fry in her mouth.

He could get to his sister’s and back in three hours. He’d tell her he had some emergency business he had to deal with. Chances were, Rachel would offer to keep Emily overnight. That would probably be best.

“Hurry up, sweetie. We need to get back on the road.”

“No,” she said. “Finish first.”

“Okay. Finish first.”

C
HAPTER
S
IXTY

T
HE LONG SUMMER
day was finally turning to night. Twice more since they’d arrived, Erica and her men had driven by Alan Lindley’s home, but each time the driveway was empty, and there was no other sign of anyone being home. It was after eight o’clock now. Surely a man with a young daughter couldn’t still be out.

“Check again,” she ordered.

Markle started up the car.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTY
-O
NE

T
HE THREE-HOUR
round trip to Alan’s sister’s house turned into over five.

First Emily had not wanted Alan to leave, so he stayed and played with her, wearing her down until she took a late afternoon nap. Then Rachel had become concerned, saying he was acting strange, and wanting to know what was going on. That wasted another twenty minutes, spent reassuring her that everything was fine and that he was just a little stressed from work. He knew she didn’t completely buy it, but he was able to finally get out of there without further questions.

Unfortunately, this meant he left smack in the middle of rush hour. At one point it got so unbearable, he’d exited the freeway and tried to find a surface-street way around the mess. That turned out to be a horrible idea. Not only was there almost as much traffic off the freeway as on, he didn’t know the area and soon found himself lost. It took him over fifteen minutes just to locate the freeway again, and when he did, he stayed on it this time, not exiting until he reached Riverside just after eight p.m.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTY
-T
WO

L
OGAN’S PHONE BUZZED.
It was Pep.

“Someone just pulled into Alan’s driveway.”

Logan sat up. “Who? Paskota?”

“No. It looks like just one guy. Hold on. He’s getting out.”

Logan glanced out the window. They had just passed Victorville and were about to hit the Cajon Pass, putting them no more than forty minutes away from Riverside.

There was movement on the other end of the line.

“Logan?” It was Barney. “It’s Alan. He’s come back.”

“What? Are you sure?”

Both Sara and Diana looked at Logan, concerned by his outburst.

“I’m positive. The light came on in the garage after he drove in, so I got a quick look at his face.”

“What’s he doing there?”

Though Logan meant the question for himself, Barney seemed to think he wanted an answer. “You want us to find out?”

“What’s who doing where?” Sara asked.

Logan looked at her. “Alan. He’s at your house.”

“I thought he was supposed to leave. Where’s Emily?”

He had been wondering the same thing. “Is Emily with him?” he asked Barney.

“I…I don’t think so,” Barney said. “He drove into the garage, then just went straight into the house. Didn’t even look back into the car.”

Why was Alan there? Callie had assured Logan he was taking Emily someplace safe.

“Okay,” he said. “You need to get him out of the house and—”

More movement from the other end, and Pep came back on the line. “The others are coming back up the street.”

Dammit!
Logan closed his eyes. This was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid.

“What is it?” Sara asked.

Ignoring her, Logan said, “Can you get to the house?”

“Not without being seen.”

No way could he send a retired doctor and a recuperating sixty-year-old vet into harm’s way. They wouldn’t have a chance. Not that Alan had much of one, either. “Is the garage door still open?”

“No. He closed it.”

“What about lights? Can you see any from the garage or the house?”

“No.”

“Okay, hold your position. If it looks like before, they shouldn’t stop.”

“Here’s hoping.”

C
HAPTER
S
IXTY
-T
HREE

E
RICA SCOWLED. EVEN
from down the street, she could tell the house looked dark and unoccupied.

Where
was
this guy? Maybe they didn’t have the right address.

She glanced back at Logan’s father. “Is this the street or not?”

“I told you. I’m not sure. I don’t do directions well. It could be. I don’t know.”

The poor-old-guy routine was wearing thin. She suspected that the elder Harper knew more than he was saying. Not the most trustworthy family, those Harpers. When she finally secured the girl, she’d have to clean up this mess. The two Harpers would be at the top of the list.

Markle kept their speed at a nice, slow neighborhood level. Most of the houses they passed had lights on, families settling in for the night. In one yard, two kids were playing catch under a particularly bright porch light. Another house had its garage door open, a man inside doing something at a workbench. And farther down the block, past the target house and on the opposite sidewalk, the old man from earlier was out walking again with the guy Erica guessed was his son.

The house Sara and the girl had lived in was three away, then two, then one.

She turned toward it as they drove past, its dark silhouette taunting her.

Then, just as the driveway began to recede behind them, the porch light flicked on.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTY
-F
OUR

“O
H, CRAP.”

Logan’s grip on his phone tightened. “What is it?”

“The porch light. He turned on the damn porch light,” Pep said.

“Did they see it?”

“Hell yes, they saw it. They were just driving by. I think they were going to keep going, but the moment that light came on, they hit the brakes. They’re pulling into the driveway right now.”

The ramifications of involving the authorities no longer mattered. “Call the cops. Tell them anything, just get them there now!”

“Got it.”

Logan hung up.

“What happened?” Sara asked.

He told her.

“No. No!” She turned to her brother. “You’ve got to go faster.”

“Any faster and we’ll get pulled over.”

“I don’t care!” she yelled. “They’re going to hurt him! He didn’t do
anything
!”

“Sara, stop,” Diana said. “Everyone’s doing the best they can.”

Sara looked back, her eyes blazing with anger. “It’s not enough!” To her brother, she said, “Please. As fast as you can.”

C
HAPTER
S
IXTY
-F
IVE

A
LAN WAS JUST
finishing up in the bathroom when the doorbell rang.

It had to be Logan. Callie had said he was on the way. Surely that meant he’d get there in time to deal with the others.

As he walked through the house, his sense of determination to find out what the hell was going on grew to the point that when he opened the door, he was already asking his first question.

“I want you to tell me right now—”

That was as far as he got before he saw the gun in the hand of a man standing on his porch. Beside him, unarmed, was a blonde woman.

“Mr. Lindley?” she asked.

A good businessman knew when it was time to contemplate a decision and when it was time to just react. This called for the latter.

Alan shoved the door closed, and ran toward the sliding glass door that led out onto the back deck. If he could get there, he could go around the house and get out to the street.