Colorado Bodyguard (3 page)

“How many motels and hotels are there in the area?” Sophie's question pulled Rand's attention back to her, and today's search for her missing sister.

“A bunch,” he said. “But we can narrow the field by focusing on the most likely places for your sister to stay. She strikes me as a classy woman, so we can move the obvious roach motels to the bottom of the list. Where do you think she'd be?”

She considered the question for a moment, brow furrowed and lips pursed. “She'd probably pick the first nice-looking place she came to when she drove into town. She wasn't the type to spend a lot of time driving around, looking.”

“That would be either the Country Inn or the Mountain View.”

“No chains?” she asked.

“Would your sister prefer a chain? There's a Holiday Inn and a Ramada closer to the center of town.”

“No, she wouldn't care about that, as long as the place looked clean.”

He drove to the Country Inn first. Red geraniums bloomed in window boxes against rows of white-framed windows trimmed in white shutters. A water wheel turned in a flower-lined pond near the entrance, splashing water that sparkled in the sun. “Lauren would have liked this,” Sophie said.

Rand parked, but left the car running, with the air-conditioning on, to avoid overheating the dog. “Lotte, wait here,” he said. “We'll be back in a minute.”

“You talk to her as if she understands you,” Sophie said as they crossed the parking lot.

“Of course she understands me. Do you have a picture of your sister with you?”

“Yes.” She took her phone from her purse and flipped to a shot of Lauren Starling seated in a restaurant booth, smiling at the camera and holding up a colorful cocktail. “I took this when she visited Wisconsin for my birthday last year.”

He didn't miss the sadness in her voice. “It's a great picture,” he said. “We'll need it to show to the clerk.”

The lobby of the motel was busy, with a couple flipping through brochures at one end of the counter, a pair of tweens choosing sodas from a machine and a businessman checking in. The clerk behind the counter was probably a college student from the local university, Rand decided. She had long blond hair, dyed bright pink at the ends, and half a dozen earrings in each ear. When she was done with the businessmen, she smiled at them. “May I help you?”

He showed his badge and the clerk's eyes widened. “We're looking for a missing woman,” he said. “Lauren Starling. She may have stayed here about a month ago.” He nodded to Sophie and she held out the phone to show Lauren's picture.

“I'm her sister,” Sophie said. “This is Lauren.”

The clerk's eyes widened. “You say she's missing?”

“Yes. Do you remember her, or could you check your records?”

“I don't have to check the records. She was here. I remember.”

* * *

S
OPHIE
 
FUMBLED
 
WITH
 
the phone, almost dropping it. “Lauren was here? Are you sure?” Her voice shook. Rand put his hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

The clerk nodded. “I recognized her from the TV, but she was obviously trying to hide her identity. I mean, she registered as Jane Smith or something like that, and paid cash for the room.”

“You didn't think that was suspicious?” Rand asked.

“Well, yeah, but people do weird things all the time, and you learn not to ask questions.” She tucked a strand of cotton-candy-colored hair behind one ear. “Then she met up with a guy, and I figured they were having an affair.” She shrugged. “It happens.”

“A guy?” Sophie leaned across the counter. “Who was the guy? What did he look like?”

Rand squeezed her shoulder to quiet her. She was going to scare off the clerk, who looked alarmed. He double-checked the girl's name badge. “I promise you won't get into any trouble, Marlee. Just tell us what you remember.”

She shrugged again. “He was just a real ordinary-looking guy—early forties, maybe. Light brown hair cut short, not too tall, not too big.”

“Did he register also?”

She shook her head. “And that's really the only reason I remember him. I was getting off my shift and I saw him standing with Jane Smith outside her room. Then he took a suitcase—one of those little overnight bags—from his car and went inside with her. That's against the rules—to have someone staying in the room who isn't registered, but it was no skin off my nose, you know? I was in a hurry to get home and I wasn't going to take the trouble to go back inside and report her. Like I said, it happens.”

“Why didn't you say anything to the police?” Sophie asked. “Didn't you see the story about Lauren being missing?”

“I knew she wasn't doing the news lately, but they said something about her being on vacation, and then I just kind of forgot. I don't watch a lot of TV and I mean, I wasn't a hundred percent certain it was her, and I didn't want to look stupid—and you're the first people to come around asking questions.”

Rand didn't have to look at Sophie to know she was glaring at him. Maybe she was right. Maybe they should have taken her sister's disappearance more seriously and made it a point to ask questions before now, but there was nothing he could do to change the past. All he could do was try to do a better job going forward.

“Had you ever seen the man before?” he asked. “Or have you seen him since?”

Marlee shook her head so hard her earrings jangled. “I don't think so. But like I said, he was nothing special.”

“Was it this guy?” He pulled up a website on his phone that featured an article about Richard Prentice and turned the phone so that she could see it.

She squinted at the photo of a man in his late forties, with thick dark hair, graying at the temples. “The guy I saw was younger, with lighter hair. That's not him.”

“Thanks.” He pocketed the phone once more. “You've been a big help. We might have more questions for you later. In the meantime, could you tell us when Ms. Starling checked out?”

She went to the computer and began typing. “The reservation was prepaid and she did express checkout,” she said. “The next morning. So she was only here for the one night.”

“Express checkout meaning she left the key in the room and you never saw her?” Rand asked.

“That's right. I wasn't on duty the next morning, but the record shows express checkout.”

“We'll want to talk to whoever was on duty that morning.”

“That would be Candy. She comes on at three today if you want to come back.”

“Someone will stop by. Thanks.”

He could tell Sophie wanted to say more, but he ushered her back to the car. “Maybe they have surveillance pictures,” she said. “We could ask to see them.”

“We could—and we will. But chances are they're on a tape loop that gets wiped every twenty-four to seventy-two hours. Otherwise the databank fills up with hours and hours of images of empty parking lots.” He started the car. “Does the man she described sound like anyone you know? A boyfriend of your sister's? Her ex-husband?”

“Her ex was a big blond, and she wasn't dating anyone. She would have told me if she was.”

“Maybe not if he was married, or she had some other reason to keep the relationship secret.”

“She would have told me.”

She sounded so certain. But how could she know another person so well? Then again, he was an only child. Maybe some siblings were closer. “Everybody has secrets,” he said.

“Lauren and I don't have secrets from each other. We're the only family we have left, and we've stayed close.”

The fervor in her voice struck a faint, almost forgotten longing within him. Growing up as an only child to older parents, he'd often wished for a brother or sister—someone who would share his background and upbringing, and always be there. “I hope if anything ever happens to me, I have someone like you fighting for me.” He meant the words. As much as he still thought they were wasting time searching for her sister, who was probably off in Cancún with her boyfriend, he admired Sophie's determination to find and help Lauren.

The soft strains of classical music rose from the floorboard near her feet. “That's my phone,” she said, reaching for her purse. She fished out a pink iPhone and glanced at the screen. “I need to get this.”

“Go right ahead.” He focused on driving the cruiser through heavy traffic near a school zone, but he couldn't help overhearing her side of the conversation.

“Hello?...Yes, this is she...Oh! Thank you for returning my call...Yes...Yes...Well, as I tried to explain in my message...All right...Yes...That would be fine...Yes...Goodbye.”

She ended the call and rested the phone in her lap, her expression troubled. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“I think so.” She turned to him, her determined expression once more in place. “That was Richard Prentice. He wants to meet with me to talk about Lauren.”

Chapter Three

Sophie clutched the dash to steady herself as Rand swerved the cruiser to the side of the road, tires squealing and gravel popping as they skidded to a stop. He shifted into Park and turned to face her. From the back, the dog let out a bark of protest. “Sorry, girl,” he called. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, radiating strength and more than a little anger. “You told us you didn't know Richard Prentice,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “That you'd never heard of him.”

“I don't!” she protested. “I hadn't.”

“Then how does he have your cell number?”

“After I found his business card in Lauren's apartment, I called the number and left a message. When he didn't call back after a couple of days, I figured he wasn't interested.” She was not going to let him make her feel guilty about something anyone in her position would have done.

“And you conveniently neglected to tell us any of this,” he said.

“Because I didn't think it mattered.” She retrieved her purse from the floor and stuffed the phone back into it. “Why are you upset, anyway?” she asked. “Now you don't have to trouble yourself to talk to the guy—I'll do it.”

“He wants to meet you somewhere?”

“He invited me to his house.”

His glower was enough to make her flinch. All right, she'd had second thoughts about meeting a man she didn't know at his home, but she wasn't going to admit that to Rand, who seemed to think he could order her around.

“I'll go with you,” he said.

“Excuse me, but you weren't invited.”

“It's not a good idea for you to go to his house by yourself.”

She sat up straighter, as if physically stiffening her spine would somehow increase her courage. “Why not? He's rich, not a criminal—or are you the one who's not telling me the whole story now?”

He rubbed his hands back and forth along the steering wheel. They were big, powerful hands, the nails cut short, the skin bronzed. They looked like hands that would be equally at home punching a guy or caressing a woman.

Okay, where had that thought come from? Obviously, all the testosterone this guy gave off was affecting her, and not in a good way.

“We have no proof Prentice is involved in any crimes, but he's a very powerful man and we suspect all his money doesn't come from legitimate sources.” Rand glanced at her. “And he's a jerk.”

That was all he could come up with? “Being a jerk doesn't make him dangerous.”

“It doesn't make him safe, either.”

“You're going to have to tell me more than that to persuade me he poses any threat.”

The muscles along his jaw tightened, and she could hear his teeth grinding. After a few seconds, he released his death grip on the steering wheel. “This goes no further than this vehicle, all right?” he said.

She nodded. “All right.”

“Last month, right after your sister disappeared, we broke up an illegal marijuana-growing operation and human-trafficking ring. The guy in charge had once worked for Prentice, though he swore they had no connection now. We think Prentice was overseeing the operation, but we couldn't prove it. Then, shortly after that, a pilot was murdered after he flew a weapon that had been stolen from the US military onto public land near Prentice's place.”

“A weapon?”

“I can't elaborate, but Prentice had links to that, too. Again, we didn't have any proof to tie him directly, but if we're right and he's behind these crimes, we're talking about somebody who's proven he won't let anything—or anyone—stop him from getting his way.”

“Now you're just trying to frighten me.” The tactic was working, too, though she'd never admit it to him.

“You're right. I am trying to frighten you out of meeting with this guy I don't trust as far as I could throw him.”

“If I make sure he's aware that other people—the task force—knows I'm meeting him, he won't try anything,” she said. “Right?”

Instead of confirming her evaluation of the situation, he leaned forward and switched on his emergency flashers. “Did he say he knew something about your sister's disappearance?” he asked.

“No. He just said he'd be happy to talk with me about Lauren. He acted like he knew her. I mean, he called her Lauren and said she was a lovely person.” The way he'd said it—“such a lovely person”—had been a little creepy, but that was probably just Rand's dislike of the guy rubbing off on her.

“When are you supposed to meet with him?”

“Why do you need to know that? So you can crash the meeting and scare him off?” It would be just like him to charge in, his dog barking and lunging, ruining everything.

“I won't scare him off. And I won't crash the meeting. I'll come as your escort.”

“You told me yourself he doesn't like law officers. If you come along, he'll clam up and won't tell me anything.”

“We won't tell him I'm a cop.”

“Then how do I explain this random guy who invited himself along?”

“Tell him I'm your boyfriend and I'm very jealous and overprotective.”

The words sent warmth flooding through her. Hormones again. It was getting pretty warm in this car. Maybe she should roll down the window. “That doesn't say much about me, that I'd hang out with a jealous and overprotective guy,” she said.

“Just tell him I'm a friend.” His expression softened. “Please. I've got good instincts and I don't have a good feeling about this.”

The “please” did it—that and the fact that she was beginning to have her own reservations about a private meeting with Richard Prentice. He was probably harmless, and he might not know anything about her sister, but she should cover all the bases by talking to him, and also staying safe. “All right. You can come with me. But you have to not act like a cop.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, no strong-arming the guy, or firing questions at him. Let me do the talking. And the dog has to stay behind.”

He glanced at Lotte, clearly torn. “Nothing says cop like a police dog,” she said.

“All right,” he said. “But if he makes a wrong move, I won't keep quiet about it.”

She sighed. And she'd thought questioning Richard Prentice would be the hard part—he'd probably be a piece of cake compared to handling Rand Knightbridge.

* * *

T
HE
 
NEXT
 
MORNING
, Rand waited for Sophie in front of the duplex he rented in the south end of Montrose. Marco Cruz lived in the other half of the building, but he wasn't home today to give Rand a hard time about being reduced to wearing civilian clothes and leaving his weapons and his dog behind, like an ordinary civilian. But, given Prentice's animosity toward the Rangers, Rand's only choice was to make this visit incognito.

Sophie had insisted on driving, too, though it had been Rand's idea to have her pick him up at the duplex—just in case Prentice had someone watching Ranger headquarters. He wouldn't put it past the man.

Her rented sedan turned the corner and glided into his drive. He jerked open the door and climbed in even before she came to a full stop. “Hello, Rand.” She lowered her sunglasses and looked him up and down.

“Do I pass the test?” he asked, buckling his seat belt. He'd dressed in khakis and a blue sports shirt with a subtle pinstripe. Nothing too fancy.

“You clean up nice, Officer.” A smile played across lips outlined in cherry red.

“I could say the same about you.” In addition to the red lipstick, she wore careful makeup that accented her big brown eyes and beautiful skin. Her hair was up, with tendrils curling around her temples. Her blue dress, of some silky material, clung in all the right places. She smelled good, too, like something expensive and exotic. She looked elegant and beautiful—the kind of woman who would appeal to a billionaire who could have anything, or anyone, he wanted.

He pushed the thought away. Sophie was too classy to go for a lowlife like Prentice. The man might have more money than kings, but money couldn't buy morals. “Have you thought of what you're going to say to him?” he asked as they headed out of town.

“I lay awake all night thinking about it. To start, I want to know how he knows Lauren, and when was the last time he talked to her. I'll ask if he knows why she was in the area.”

“It'll be interesting to find out if he really knows anything.”

The entrance to Prentice's estate was unmarked by any sign but, unlike other properties in the area, featured a stone guardhouse set back thirty yards from the road and a heavy iron gate. A guard stepped out to meet them. Sophie lowered her window. “I'm Sophie Montgomery,” she said. “I have a meeting with Mr. Prentice.”

“Yes, Ms. Montgomery, we've been expecting you.” He nodded to Rand. “Who's he?”

“This is my friend Jake Peters.” It was the name they'd agreed on, in case Prentice had a roster of the task force. Jacob was Rand's middle name and Peters was his mother's maiden name.

“Mr. Peters is not on our list of authorized guests,” the guard said.

“I am a single woman and Mr. Prentice is a stranger to me,” she said frostily, also as they'd rehearsed. “He can't expect me to come to his house, in this remote location, alone.”

“Wait here a moment.” The guard retreated to the stone hut and made a phone call. He was back a moment later. “Someone will be along in a moment to escort you to the main house. Wait here.”

“How many houses does he have?” Sophie whispered when the guard had walked away.

“I think there are a couple of places where the help live,” Rand said.

A Jeep roared down the road in front of them and slid to a stop inches from the rental car's bumper. The driver, also dressed in desert camo, motioned for them to follow, then turned the Jeep and headed back up the road.

They drove up the gravel drive, around a curve and up a hill. At the top, Sophie gasped and stomped on the brake. “You've got to be kidding,” she said.

The place was definitely a castle, but more Disney than Dusseldorf. Constructed of gray stone, it featured crenellated battlements, towers and turrets...even a drawbridge, though there was no moat. “It's like something you'd see in Vegas,” she said.

“Being rich obviously doesn't guarantee good taste,” Rand said. “But I suspect it's another of his ploys to goad the government into buying him out. He tried to get the feds to buy the land and incorporate it into the national park. When that didn't work, he threatened to build a triple-X theater right at the park entrance, but the county passed an ordinance making such places illegal. Finally, he built this monstrosity. I suspect he thought if he created a big enough eyesore, the public would push for its removal.”

“But you can't see the building from the road.”

“You get a great view of it from the Pioneer Point overlook in the park, though. It actually blocks a view of the Curecanti Needle, one of the most famous natural rock formations in the country.”

She shook her head and drove on.

They parked under an arching portico and a stone-faced servant who looked and acted like a bodyguard ushered them into a great hall reminiscent of a medieval stronghold. “Mr. Prentice will see you in the library,” the man said, and led the way to a pair of large wooden doors.

The room in question was indeed filled with books, and with a Native-American pottery collection that, if it was authentic, would command hundreds of thousands of dollars. Rand wondered if any of it was legal, or if Prentice had acquired it from the network of grave robbers who ransacked the pueblos.

“This place is a real fortress,” he said, standing close to Sophie in the middle of the room. “I saw at least three guards from the hallway.”

“You don't know that they're guards.”

“Right. Maybe he's recruiting his own football team. Why does one man need that kind of protection?”

“I imagine someone with a lot of money could be a target.”

“Or someone with a lot of enemies.”

“So sorry to keep you waiting.”

They turned as Richard Prentice approached. He looked small in the massive room, with more gray in his hair than in the pictures Rand had seen and a slight paunch showing in spite of his expertly cut suit. He walked forward to meet them, hand outstretched to Sophie. “Ms. Montgomery, I'm delighted to meet you.” He ignored Rand completely, which was fine by him. He had no desire to shake this man's hand.

Rand followed Sophie to a love seat upholstered in butter-colored leather and sat beside her. Prentice took the matching chair opposite. “Your message said you're looking for your sister, Lauren Starling. How can I help you?”

“She's been missing since late May,” Sophie said. “Park rangers found her car in Black Canyon of the Gunnison Park, but no one has seen any trace of Lauren. I found your business card in her apartment in Denver and I wondered if she'd been to see you.”

“I'd heard of her disappearance, but I'm afraid I can't be of any help to you. I haven't seen Lauren in four or five months, at least.”

“How do you know her?” Rand asked.

Sophie shot him a pained look. All right, he'd promised to keep his mouth shut, but honestly, Prentice was so oily and smooth, Rand wanted to put him on edge.

“How did you and Lauren know each other?” Sophie asked, her voice soft, less demanding than Rand's.

“We met at a fund-raiser in Denver earlier this year, to raise money for an orphanage in Guatemala that is a special interest of mine.”

Prentice was interested in Guatemala, all right—as a source for the illegal workers he used in his drug and prostitution operations. Some of the victims of the human-trafficking ring the task force had broken up last month had been from Guatemala.