No Return (10 page)

“We’re first?” she asked.

“Looks like it.”

Wes loaded the camera bag and the backup system into the rear of the Escape, then joined Anna in leaning against the front fender.

“Should we make sure they’re alive?” she asked.

He checked the time on his phone. “Nah. Let’s give them until seven forty-five.”

It was 7:39 when Dione shuffled out of the courtyard corridor, face slack and a pair of Jackie O sunglasses covering her eyes. She was followed thirty seconds later by Alison, who merely looked tired, then by Tony, and finally by the host of
Close to Home
.

“I could have sworn we had to shovel Monroe into bed last night,” Anna whispered to Wes.

Monroe was showing no ill effects from the tequila fest the night before.

“Maybe she’s always hungover,” Wes suggested.

Anna stifled a snort.

“Where’s Danny?” Dione said, her voice at least an octave lower than usual.

Shrugs, and a few I-don’t-knows.

“Has anyone called him?” she asked.

No one spoke up.

“Great,” she said as she pulled out her cellphone.

Two seconds later Wes heard another phone ringing in the distance.

“I’m coming,” Danny yelled.

They could all now see the second cameraman walking quickly toward them down the sidewalk that ran along the motel. And he wasn’t alone.

Dori was draped under his arm, sporting the same age-inappropriate dress she’d been wearing the night before. They stopped in front of a Lincoln sedan, shared a few words, then kissed for several seconds.

Alison let out a groan. “I really didn’t need to see that first thing in the morning.”

“I really didn’t need to see that ever,” Tony said.

As Danny and Dori parted, Dori looked over and gave Wes a small wave.

This elicited a raised eyebrow from Anna.

“Don’t ask,” Wes said.

“Morning, gang,” Danny said as he jogged over, surprisingly spry after a night of drinking. “Sorry I’m late. I got a little sidetracked.”

“Can we just go?” Dione asked wearily.

Their first stop was Robber’s Roost. It was basically a large, fractured boulder, with a couple of smaller piles of rock nearby, that bandits in the 1800s had used as a lookout for spotting stagecoaches bound for Los Angeles. It wasn’t exactly the easiest place to shoot, but was a natural location for
Close to Home
.

Tony went up and down the rocks over a dozen times, wearing his hiking boots and a wide grin as he hauled equipment, then escorted Monroe into place.

“This is awesome,” he said as he helped Dione up the side of the rock.

She groaned, then pushed her glasses up her nose. “ ‘Awesome’ isn’t quite the word I’d use.”

When they rolled into Red Rock Canyon just before 11 a.m., they were surprisingly still on schedule. The canyon was a fascinating mix of cliff faces, buttes, and tributary ravines lined by erosion-carved rocks. The colors, too, were striking—deep reds, whites, and, of course, nearly every shade of brown.

They spent the first hour and a half shooting B-roll, then broke for lunch at twelve-thirty.

Wes was just taking a bite of a roasted turkey sandwich when a dark sedan turned off the highway and drove slowly toward them, parking just behind the SUVs.

He took a step toward the sedan as the door opened and Lars got out.

“We can’t be in trouble,” Dione scoffed. “I got all the right permits.”

“Relax,” Wes said. “It’s not the park service. It’s a friend of mine.”

“Hey, Wes,” Lars said as he walked up.

“Didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“I was passing by and realized it was you and your friends, so thought I’d stop.”

“You saw us from the road?” Wes asked, surprised.

“Yeah. When I noticed the cameras, I figured it had to be you.”

“Everyone, this is my old friend, Lars Andersen,” Wes said to the crew. “We grew up together. Lars, this is Danny, Alison, Tony, Dione, Anna, and Monroe.”

There were a lot of hellos and nice-to-meet-yous.

“So this is what Hollywood’s like, huh?” Lars said to Wes, once everyone else returned to lunch.

“Yeah, pretty glamorous. At least we’re on schedule. We were supposed to shoot on the base yesterday, but that got canceled.”

“I heard,” Lars said. “Sorry about that, but standard procedure.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Wes said, grinning. “I get paid whether we shoot or not.”

Lars returned the smile. “I was wondering if you might have a minute to talk?”

Wes nodded. “Sure. We’ve got about ten until we start up again.”

“Why don’t we take a walk?” Lars suggested.

They followed the wall of the canyon away from the SUVs.

“So, what’s up?” Wes asked once they were out of earshot of the others.

“I did some checking,” Lars said. “Wes, the guy in the newspaper picture was the pilot of the plane.”

“You’re sure?”

Lars nodded, a sympathetic smile on his face. “I talked to some of the search-and-rescue team, reread through all the reports; there’s no question. It was Adair.” He paused. “Look. It’s completely understandable. You were under a lot of stress. It’s a wonder you remember seeing anyone at all.”

“You’re one hundred percent positive?”

“Absolutely. Multiple ID verification.”

Wes sighed. “Guess I was wrong.”

Lars put a hand on Wes’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you asked me to check. Better to know the truth than to just assume, right?” He paused. “Listen, when do you leave town?”

“Wednesday,” Wes said.

“So you’re here this weekend?”

Wes nodded.

“Will you be shooting or do you get some downtime?”

“No. A couple people have to go back to L.A. for the weekend, so we’re off.”

“Then come over tomorrow afternoon. We’ll barbecue and talk about old times. What do you think?”

“Maybe,” Wes said.

“I’ll take that for a yes. Four-thirty, and bring beer.”

Wes remained silent as they turned to head back.

“Don’t beat yourself up. You went above and beyond yesterday for Adair. You should be proud of that.”

“I was so sure.”

“I told you, stress likes to mess with your mind.”

“That photo … I could have sworn it was wrong.”

“Hope this has made you feel a little better. Always good to get things settled.”

“I guess.”

“At least now you can stop wandering around bars looking at pictures.”

Wes stopped walking. “What?”

Lars let out a resigned breath. “I heard about your visit to the bar last night. I didn’t realize how seriously you were taking this.”

Wes eyed his friend. “You didn’t just come out here by chance, did you?”

Lars hesitated a moment, then shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

“How did you find us?”

“I work for the Navy, Wes. If we can find a specific submarine in thousands of square miles of ocean, finding a film crew in Red Rock Canyon isn’t difficult.”

Wes paused a moment. “Then why the lie? And what about the pilot? Are you lying about him, too?”

“Whoa. I just came out here because I knew it was bothering you and thought it would be nice to clear your mind as soon as I had some info. I didn’t come to get into an argument.”

Wes took a breath and allowed himself to relax a little. He glanced toward the crew vehicles, then back at his friend. “What if I could prove I’m right?”

“Right about what?”

Wes hesitated, unsure if he should go on. But this was Lars, his old friend. They had trusted each other once. “We shot video of the accident, including a shot of the pilot’s face. It’s not Adair. I’ll show you and you’ll see.”

Lars stared at him. “You have video? I thought the investigators had all your footage.”

“How do you know that?”

“I already told you, I read the reports. So how can you possibly have video if they’ve got your original source?”

Wes silently cursed himself for saying more than he should have. “I just do.”

Lars frowned. “Did you look at it?”

“Yes. Why? Are you afraid I might have seen something I shouldn’t have?”

Lars stared off into the distance for a moment, then looked back, clearly annoyed. “Wes, this is an embarrassment for us. It’s our plane. Our man died in it. Whether it was a training issue or a mechanical one, this is a black eye for the Navy. Jesus, you have a bad day, you just reshoot. We have a bad day, someone dies. Your playing private investigator isn’t helping anything, and it certainly isn’t going to change reality. This is our tragedy. We’re handling it in-house. I would think you’d get that.”

Wes said nothing for a moment. “Of course I get that.”

“Then for God’s sake, just let us deal with it.
Please
.”

A horn sounded behind them. Wes looked back and saw Dione waving at him.

“I’ll drop it. All right? Sorry. I gotta get back to work.”

“Wes, wait.” Lars’s tone softened. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make a big deal of this. We’re all on edge because of the accident. I’m sure you can appreciate that. I really just wanted to let you know that I checked things out like I promised I would, but there’s been no mistake.”

“Yeah. Sure. Look, I gotta go.”

“See you this weekend?”

“I’ll think about it.”

The horn honked again.

“I’VE BEEN DYING TO ASK YOU ALL DAY,” ANNA
said as they entered Wes’s room at the Desert Rose. “What was that all about?”

Wes set the camera bag in the closet. “What was what all about?”

“Your friend Lars. What did he want?”

“Nothing important.”

He put the case containing the auto-backup system on the floor next to the desk, then went to grab a clean shirt, but stopped short. His suitcase wasn’t there.

Anna plopped down on the bed. “Nothing? It didn’t look like nothing.”

Wes wheeled around, searching the room.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“My suitcase. It’s gone.”

She pointed at the far side of the dresser. “What are you talking about? It’s right there.”

“Huh.” He couldn’t remember putting it there.

He pulled out a black polo shirt and exchanged it with the shirt he’d been wearing all day. “Do we need to stop by your room first?”

“Nope. You’re going to have to take me as I am.”

“I like the sound of that. Maybe we should just order in.”

“No way. You’re taking me out on the town,” she said. “What there is of it.”

He circled his arms around her and picked her up off the bed. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

She slapped his arm and said, “Put me down. I’m hungry.”

As they exited his room, Anna rummaged around in her purse.

“Damn,” she said.

“What?”

“I don’t have my lipstick.”

“Sure you do,” Wes said. “I saw you putting some on when we were out today.”

“That’s nice that you’d watch me primp, sweetie, but that was my daytime lipstick. I need my nighttime.” She closed her purse. “Not here. I’ll be right back.”

“So we
are
going to your room.”

“I’m going, you’re getting the car started.”

She tilted her head up and kissed him, then jogged off.

Wes had parked the Escape in the spot right outside his room. He fired up the engine, then turned on the satellite radio and tuned it to BBC One. Anna loved listening to the DJs’ accents. He was fiddling with the A/C when the passenger door flew open.

“You were right. That was quick.” He looked over.

Anna made no move to get in, a strange look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, suddenly alert.

“I think there might be someone in my room.”

They ran through a short passage to the other side and quickly reached her door. It was ajar.

“Did you leave it like that?” he asked.

Anna nodded.

Wes nudged it open and peered inside. It was quiet. He pushed it open more, then stepped across the threshold. The room was empty.

Confused, he glanced at Anna.

“Listen,” she whispered.

He cocked his head and immediately registered a noise that shouldn’t have been there.

“Is that the shower?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Don’t tell me there’s someone in it.”

“I don’t know for sure. I went in to check, but as soon as I saw the mirror, I ran out.”

“The mirror?”

“You have to see.”

Cautiously Wes stepped farther into the room, his gaze sweeping the space to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Anna was right behind him.

“Go back outside,” he told her, keeping his voice low.

“I’m not letting you do this alone. What if someone’s in there?”

Frowning, Wes turned back to the bathroom. Though the door was half open, he knocked on the jamb. “Hello?”

No response.

Wes eased into the room, then put a hand on the plastic shower curtain. His other hand he balled into a fist, just in case.

“Hello?” he said again.

When there was still no answer, he yanked the curtain back and glanced inside.

He shrugged. “Empty.”

Anna relaxed a little, but not completely. “The mirror.”