Little Girl Gone (3 page)

The doctor paused, then said, his tone even more serious than before, “It’s procedure for us to report crimes of violence.”

Logan shot his dad a quick told-you-so look.

“Since it happened in Cambria, I understand that falls under the Sheriff’s jurisdiction,” Dr. Mayer went on. “They’re sending someone over, but I don’t believe they’re here yet. So we’d appreciate it if you could hang around until they can talk with Mr. Myat.”

“Of course,” Harp said. “No problem. But, uh, Tooney doesn’t have to wait in back until they show up, does he?”

The doctor smiled. “Not at all. I’ll send him out as soon as he’s ready.”

“Thanks, doc. Appreciate it.”

After the doctor left, Harp eyed his son nervously. Logan was content to remain quiet, knowing it wasn’t helping his dad’s state of mind.

Tooney was wheeled out ten minutes later. Everyone smiled and told him he looked great and was going to be fine. The second part was hopefully true, but the first wasn’t even close. With a nasty bruise on his cheek and a couple of cuts—one on his nose and one near his temple, Tooney looked like a man in a lot of pain.

As the reunion ebbed, Logan caught his father’s eye, silently suggesting that now might be a good time for that talk he promised. Harp sighed, then nodded, and said, “Tooney. Logan’s having a hard time understanding the…uh…mugging issue. Thinks we probably should tell the truth when the Sheriff’s department shows up.”

“Not probably, Dad,” Logan corrected him.

His father frowned, but continued to look at his friend. “I thought it might be better if you explained to him…you know…”

Tooney gingerly turned his head in Logan’s direction. “Logan, thank you so much for helping me this morning.”

“I’m just glad I was there,” Logan said.

“I want you to know, I understand your concerns. But this matter…personal. A…mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“A miscommunication, that’s all.” He hesitated, then added, “Please, Logan, for me, say nothing.”

“Tooney, he was going to kill you.”

“Please,” he said, his eyes pleading. “I beg you. This most important to me. Say nothing.”

A glance at Harp told Logan that his father, and probably the rest of the WAMOs, knew whatever it was Tooney was unwilling to share. Apparently, it was enough to convince these old men to lie to the authorities for their friend.

Behind Logan, the door to the outside opened. Given the way Tooney and his father tensed, it didn’t take a genius to know the Sheriff’s deputies had arrived.

Tooney glanced at Logan again, panic now joining the fear on this face.

“I really don’t understand,” Logan said, then hesitated. He was confused by the fact the six men in front of him, men who he respected, were asking him to do something that didn’t make any apparent sense. But respect was one of the things his father had stressed to him growing up, and it was hard to go against that, especially with this group. “I know I’m going to regret this, but if that’s what you want, fine.”

Without another word, he stood up and left before the sheriff’s deputies could be directed their way. Apparently, he didn’t have anything to say to them anyway, because, according to the others, he wasn’t even there when the incident happened.

4

After dropping Tooney’s Bronco off behind his café, Logan headed over to the Dunn Right, getting there just past 9 a.m.

Since he was usually the first one in every morning, he took some ribbing from the other guys for oversleeping, but didn’t correct the misperception. Soon they were all elbows deep on their own projects, and talk was restricted to the occasional joke or comment on something the DJ on the radio said.

At noon, as Logan headed out to grab some lunch, Alejandro, Dunn Right’s head mechanic, pulled him aside. “Harp not coming in?”

Logan’s dad had yet to show up, which, in Alejandro’s eyes, would be unusual. Harp had seldom missed a day in the forty years since he’d bought the place from a guy name Alan Dunn. He’d kept the name because, as he always liked to say, “Dunn Right sounds a hell of a lot better than Harper Right.”

 “He had some things he had to take care of,” Logan said.

“He’s feeling okay, though, right?” Alejandro had been at Dunn Right for twenty-one years, and had developed a close relationship with Harp.

“He’s—” Logan stopped himself. Those stitches on the side of his dad’s head were going to be very visible, so just saying he was fine wouldn’t cut it. “Actually, he fell down this morning. It’s nothing serious. Just a cut on the side of his head that needed a few stitches.”

“You weren’t going to tell me about that? What was it? The stairs? I keep telling him that he needs to move someplace that’s only one story.”

“It wasn’t the stairs,” Logan told him. “He was…helping a friend, got pulled off balance and fell. Just an accident. Could have happened to you, too.”

“But he’s going to be okay?”

“He’s already okay.”

“You going to go see him now?”

“There’s no reason to. I’m just going to go get some lunch.”

“Maybe I should go check on him.”

“Alejandro, he’s fine. He might not even be there.”

“Where would he be?”

“I don’t know. Probably out with one of his WAMO buddies.”

That seemed to placate him enough so that Logan could leave.

The afternoon was split between working on the fuel pump of an old Chevy Blazer, and fending off more questions from Alejandro when it became apparent Harp wasn’t going to show up at all.

At a quarter to five, as Logan was cleaning off a day’s worth of grease and getting ready to go home, his cell phone rang.

“I ordered pizza from Round Up,” his father said. “Can you pick it up and bring it over?”

“Aren’t one of those high school kids around? Have him pick it up for you.” Harp lost his license the year before Logan moved back, and had gotten into the habit of hiring local high school kids to chauffeur him around.

“Gave them all the day off. Besides, I bought enough for you, too. This is me inviting you to dinner.”

Logan hesitated for a moment, then said “Sure, Dad. I’ll be there in a bit.”

Not feeling like walking all the way home just to get his car, he decided to use the old Isuzu Rodeo they kept around the shop. When he arrived at the Round Up, he found not just one pizza waiting for him, but three. All large. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one joining his dad and Tooney for dinner.

Harp lived on Princeton Lane in the Marine Terrace section of town. His place was on the down slope of the hill that led to the beach, and had a near 180-degree view of the Pacific Ocean. Years ago, before Logan’s mom had died, and when land prices were still relatively cheap, his parents bought the property behind theirs so that no one could ever build on it and obstruct their view. Logan was willing to bet most of his father’s neighbors wished they’d done the same.

The house was two stories, but because of the slope, the front door opened onto a foyer between the two levels. From there, stairs led up and down. On the bottom floor were Logan’s old room, the guest room, and his father’s home office. Up, though, was where Harp spent most of his time. That’s where the kitchen, the combo dining room/living room, and the master suite were all located. The top floor also had a deck off the back where the WAMO guys liked to enjoy a glass of wine as they watched the sun go down when it wasn’t too cold.

When Logan pulled up, he wasn’t surprised to find several other cars parked out front. It looked to him like the whole damn gang was there. He guessed they probably wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to blow their lie.

Before he even climbed out of the car, he decided he’d only stay long enough to have a slice or two, then get the hell out of there. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about what had happened that morning, and he thought it better to just make a quick exit than get annoyed.

“Thank God,” Jerry Kendrew said as he opened the door to let Logan in. “Come on, come on. I’m starving.”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize I was on the clock.”

Upstairs, the others were all sitting in the living room. The TV was on, but no one seemed to be paying it any attention. On the screen was a selection menu for one of Harp’s video games.

Bowling night
, Logan realized.

Harp had told Logan each of his friends had purchased game consoles so they could rotate locations from week to week. “Kind of like the Pro Bowlers Association,” he’d said. A bunch of old men eating pizza and playing video games, Logan had no idea what that said about society.

“Food’s here!” Jerry called out as Logan set the boxes on the table.

The others stopped talking, and pushed themselves up, some with more dexterity than others.

“Thanks, Logan,” his father said as he walked into the kitchen. “Who wants a beer?”

Three of the guys said yes, while Will Jensen asked for water.

“Logan, what about you? A beer?”

Logan shook his head. “Water’s fine,” he said, then looked around. “Where’s Tooney? I thought he was supposed to be here.”

Harp jerked his thumb toward the master bedroom. “On the phone.”

The dining table looked pretty full with the six of them around it. For the first few minutes, they ate in silence, Logan because he wanted to finish and get out of there, and the others because they seemed nervous to talk to him.

Finally, Logan asked, “How’s he doing?”

His dad shrugged. “Sore, but he’ll be okay.”

“Glad to hear it. What about you?”

Harp touched the bandage on the side of his head. “Going to tell everyone I was in a bar fight. The chicks will dig it.”

That just made Logan want to eat faster.

As he neared the end of his second—and last—slice, his dad said, “Logan, we…uh…want to talk to you about Tooney.”

Damn. So close
.

Logan leaned forward. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to say anything. If you guys want to lie to the sheriff, then have at it.”

His father’s face scrunched up, his brows dipping so low his eyes became slits. “What are you talking about? Of course you’re not going to say anything. You already promised us that. That’s not what I meant.”

That wasn’t the response Logan was expecting. “Okay, what then?”

Harp looked around the table at the other men, then turned so that he was fully facing his son. “Tooney needs help.” He paused. “And I, well…
we
thought maybe it was something that you could, you know, do for him.”

 “If he’s in trouble, he should call the sheriff. That’s their job, Dad.”  Logan looked around the table. Along with Barney the retired doctor and Jerry the retired accountant, there was also Alan the retired teacher, and Will the retired scientist. “What in God’s name has gotten into you guys? You’re acting like this is some kind of game. If your friend has a problem, then he
needs
to
get
help
. And if he won’t do it, you need to do it for him.”

“What do you think we’re trying to do?” Harp asked. “We’re asking you.”

“I don’t mean me. I mean from someone official. Like, you know, the sheriff’s department?”

“If we do that,” Barney said almost in a whisper, “they’ll kill her.”

“What?” Logan was sure he’d misheard him.

“Are you sure you don’t want that beer?” his father asked.

“No, Dad. I don’t want a beer. I want to know what the hell you guys are talking about.”

“Whoa. Calm down. No need to get all up—”

Suddenly a tired voice called out from behind them. “I…I could use a little help.”

5

Logan turned.

Tooney was standing at the end of the short hallway that led back to the master bedroom, leaning against the wall for support.

Harp and Jerry were the first out of their chairs, but Logan was the first to reach him.

“Shouldn’t you be lying down?” Logan asked as he put his arm around Tooney, allowing the older man to lean against him.

“I lay down long enough already. Besides, I’m hungry.”

“We can bring you some pizza to the bedroom,” Logan suggested, then tried to turn Tooney around, but the older man showed surprising strength for a guy in his condition, and didn’t budge.

“I want to eat in here.”

“Bring him over to the table,” Harp said.

Logan wasn’t so sure that was a good idea, but it seemed to be what Tooney wanted, so he carefully led him over, and helped him into a chair. As soon as Tooney was settled, Barney had him open his eyes wide, asked him a few questions, then declared him healthy enough to eat. Sometimes it paid to have a doctor around, Logan thought, even a retired one who was apparently okay with lying to the authorities.

“Any news?” Harp asked.

The rest of the men stopped what they were doing, interested in the answer. But Tooney shook his head. “Tried five times. Same as before.”

Logan felt the tension level in the room rise a notch. “Somebody want to tell me what’s going on?”

There were shared looks, then Harp leaned toward Tooney. “I think we should do what we talked about. Logan can be discrete.”

Tooney sighed, then nodded. “Okay. I don’t know what else to do.”

 Logan prepared himself to once again direct Tooney to the Sheriff’s department. He was so expecting to hear something like, “please find out more about the guy who attacked me this morning,” that he only partially heard what Tooney really said.

“What?” he asked, his focus returning to the here-and-now. “Say that again.”

“I want you to find my granddaughter.”

Logan took a second to let his mind adjust. “Your granddaughter’s missing?”

“I don’t know. I think so, yes.”

“You think so. Look, I hate to sound like a broken record, but if she’s missing, you should call the police.”

“No,” Tooney said quickly. “I…I might be wrong. And I don’t want to cause any…problems.”

“Well, when did she go missing?”

“I don’t know if she is missing. She was supposed to arrive this afternoon.”

“Here? In Cambria?”