In Hot Pursuit (17 page)

They expressed their gratitude for the information and strolled out of the store.

“I knew I was right.” Quinn felt like dancing.

“Rebecca isn't afraid of showing off her money,” Logan said.

Quinn considered that for a moment. Was Rebecca flaunting it or maybe she really didn't know they were looking for her. She
couldn't
know Quinn had started sleuthing with Logan. The woman at the Paris slot tournament was probably just a Rebecca look-alike. Rebecca had no reason to use a false name as she was unaware of their interest in her. Also, a woman who buys a Hermes Birkin handbag wouldn't be caught dead next to a slot machine. Diamonds were more her style.

And where would one go for diamonds? Tiffany's, of course.

Quinn punched Logan in the arm. “Come on, Mr. Rice. Let's go rock hunting.”

She steered him along Via Bellagio past Prada and Dior to Tiffany & Company.

The signature granite façade along with an Atlas clock figure framed the wide entrance to the store. She felt the slightest twinge of anticipation. Tiffany's could do that to a girl. The interior of the store was modern and elegant in subdued grays and peach.

They marched right over to the cash register. A customer, gingerly carrying a blue bag, turned away from the counter, leaving the salesclerk free. They repeated the Hermes story and once again hit the lottery. This time Rebecca had held back a bit with four-carat diamond studs and a three-carat diamond-and-emerald bracelet.

Now she had fabulous jewelry and an exclusive purse. Did shopping her little black heart out yesterday, mean she was still in Las Vegas today? No.

They walked out of Tiffany's to Via Bellagio and stopped in the middle of the broad walkway. Quinn put a hand on a hip and stared into space. Knowing Rebecca had been out spending money didn't get them any closer to finding her.

Logan snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Earth to Quinn. Let's go find a place in the casino to sit down, relax, and talk. I need to think.”

They continued along Via Bellagio to the casino entrance. Quinn loved the casino's décor. The cream background with an overlay of rich green plants and colorful flowers seemed lush and elegant. The combination of colors inspired tranquility and relaxation — perfect ambiance for gambling.

They wandered until they came to a cocktail lounge. Quinn naturally headed for the long curved bar rather than the low tables. They chose stools on the left side, providing a clear view of gamblers walking by.

The bartender moseyed over and Logan ordered two cups of coffee. Quinn noticed he didn't ask her what she wanted to drink, but kept quiet. Had they transitioned from acquaintances to bosom buddies in two days?

Once the coffee arrived, they lapsed into their own thoughts. She thought about a Birkin bag and four-carat diamond studs, if only — Logan interrupted her mental flow.

“I think we need to regroup.”

“Sure, let's regroup. What's your plan?”

“I was thinking, Rebecca has bought girly things, things that create a momentary rush.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don't you think she'd want to settle down and stay low for a while?” Logan said.

“Seems logical to me. Why make yourself a target for the police?” And HCU and Quinn.

“Exactly. If I were running with that kind of money, I'd get out of the country as quickly as possible, once I had some fun.”

He glanced past her. She could hear arguing, then it moved off. Logan again focused on her. The man had the bluest eyes.

“I'd go where there are lots of Americans, either as residents or tourists,” he said. “Easier to blend in.”

“Like London or Paris?”

“Yes, I think Europe is a better bet than say, South America or Mexico.”

“No sun tanning on the beaches of Rio?”

“I'm not a psychic.” Frustration floated across his face. “All I'm saying is that if I wanted to hide from the authorities, I wouldn't go where I was odd man out.”

He had a good point. Hide out in the open rather than behind closed doors where the need to be hidden might draw attention. Logan was one logical guy.

“I guess we need to make a list all the cities in Europe with high populations of Americans,” she said.

“Let's ask J.W. to check the passenger lists of outgoing international flights the last twenty-four hours.”

“Good idea. I wonder if she's had any hits yet. I'll give her a jingle.”

Logan made the call instead. It was quick. He slipped the phone in his jacket pocket.

“And?”

“It appears we've hired a thorough private investigator. J.W. is already looking at passenger lists for outgoing flights from Las Vegas, both domestic and international.”

“Good. When will we hear back from her?”

“Two to three hours.”

Quinn's fist pounded the bar. “We have to find Rebecca.”

“Relax. You have to be patient.”

She clenched and unclenched her jaw. “Please, do not tell me to be patient.” She rubbed her chin. “I'm not good at patient.”

Logan shrugged. “Fine. Do your best. There's not much we can do until we hear back from J.W..”

She chewed on that for about two seconds. “We could look for Scooter.”

“Why?”

Why? As if parking their butts at a bar was getting them anywhere. One phone call to J.W. wasn't an action plan.

“I'm feeling useless, again. I don't like it. I need to stay busy.” She sighed, heavily. She hadn't flown to Las Vegas to wait for someone else to find Rebecca. She stood. “I can't sit here. If I'm walking the Strip and touring casinos, looking at people, at least I'm being useful.”

“You're right.” Logan threw a bill on the bar. “Let's walk the Strip back to the Grand. We can keep a look out for Scooter and Rebecca along the way.”

They exited the Bellagio through its main entrance and walked along the lake to Las Vegas Boulevard rather than taking the quicker people mover. The dancing waters show began another set as they were halfway to the street. They stopped to watch.

Logan casually swung an arm over her shoulder and surprisingly, she did not pull away. She wasn't comfortable with the physical closeness he seemed to find so easy. Yes, she had some sort of hang up about it. If she were analyzing herself, she'd say her problem related to trust, trust of a good-looking and very eligible man. She hardly knew Logan. He could be a habitual heartbreaker for all she knew. He was forty and never married, that had to say something. At least all those magazine quizzes said so.

The water show ended and five minute later they threaded their way through the nonstop swarm of moving bodies in front of Caesar's Palace. Her eyes searched for a familiar face in the crowd. It wasn't easy. She had about a second to search for a glimpse of Rebecca or Scooter among the faces rushing past her at warp speed.

They walked slowly, irritating people behind them. Tough. Quinn had nothing but time.

After thirty minutes of strolling, she pulled Logan over to the inner edge of the sidewalk, not far from the Grand. She was hot and frustrated.

“It's been fun avoiding the hordes of people trying to mow us down.” She wiped sweat off her forehead. “I think we need to switch to plan B. This isn't working.”

“You're the one who wanted to walk the Strip and look at people.” Logan swept his arm in a wide arc toward the street. “There's the people.”

She glared at him. He overflowed with masculinity and was cute as a button. Why did he have to be right? Her brain hesitated for a nanosecond, switched gears. She was more than willing to admit a temporary defeat. The situation was ridiculous. She started to laugh — a deep in the gut release and she doubled over.

After a couple of seconds, she gripped Logan's shoulder, stood up, and sucked in air. Her eyes caught sight of a familiar face at the street edge of the sidewalk.

“There's Scooter.”

She shot into the crowd, bumping her way past tourists toward Scooter. He faced the Strip, his back to her. She touched his arm. He turned toward her, his face cloaked with bewilderment.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Quinn sensed, rather than heard, Logan pull up behind her.

Scooter blinked, had that deer-in-the-headlights look, then his face transitioned to administrative mode. “Quinn, I didn't know you were coming here for your vacation.” He looked behind her. “And with a friend.”

“It was a spur of the moment. What are you doing here?” She searched Scooter's face for a glimmer of something, but he looked normal.

“The wife and I decided to do some gambling and take in a couple of shows.”

Yeah, right. “Sounds fun. I saw you last night at the Bellagio shops. Even called out to you but you turned the other way.”

“Really? We were at the Bellagio last night but I didn't see you.” Scooter laughed. “Must have been my twin.”

She nodded. “Yes, a twin.” She pointed to Logan. “This is Logan Rice. Remember, he came to the meeting with Rebecca.”

Scooter nodded and the two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

“Would you and your wife like to join us for dinner this evening?” Logan said.

Scooter shook his head. “Sorry, we have plans. I must get going.” He smiled. “Have a nice vacation, Quinn. I'll see you on Monday.” He turned and melded into the throng of tourists moving toward Caesars' Palace.

She faced Logan. “What the hell was that?”

“Sounded like a story to me. He doesn't know you talked to his wife.”

“Obviously. I need to think about this.” She glanced from Logan to the cars grinding by. “Let's get back to the hotel suite.” She fluffed hair off her neck. “I'm hot.”

Twenty minutes later, she had her feet planted on the sofa, eyes closed, head resting on its fluffy back. She couldn't get her head around Scooter lying to her face-to-face. He was a straight laced kind of guy. It made no sense, unless … .

She bolted up. Her feet knocked a green pillow on the floor. Logan sat across from her in a club chair, reading a newspaper.

“Logan.”

“Hmm?”

Quinn finally had the nerve to voice the thoughts that had been rolling around in her mind ever since Ellie told her Scooter was flying to Las Vegas. “I think there's a good possibility Scooter is involved with Rebecca.”

He folded the paper over his lap. “What's your logic?”

She started counting on her fingers. “First, he hadn't scheduled any vacation on the finance office calendar and he's a stickler about that. Second, he gave both Ellie and his wife the wrong hotel information. And third, he just lied to me, a trusted and long-time employee, about his reason for being here.”

“Maybe he needed some time alone, to get away from the pressures at work and at home,” Logan suggested. “He could have given them the wrong hotel for privacy.”

She rose and walked to the bank of windows overlooking the Strip. It was busy as usual. She turned back to Logan. “My gut is telling me something isn't right with him. Scooter lying to me, as well as Ellie and his wife, is off the charts out of character. He's just too straight laced. Even though he's unpredictable at times, he's a by-the-book CPA. He's not a thief.”

“Didn't you just say you thought he was involved with Rebecca?” Logan asked.

“Sleeping with her doesn't automatically translate to stealing twenty-five mil with her.”

“Oh.” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. Men could be so dense. Their logic translated sex to everything. She flexed her arms up and down, shaking out the excess tension. She was sweaty.

“I need to take a shower. I'll see you in an hour or so.” Quinn closed the bedroom door quietly behind her and flopped on the bed. She needed time to reflect on what she'd learned in the past two days. She needed time to think about the cuteness factor of Logan Rice. And, she needed time to think about why he was getting under her skin.

Friday, 6:35
P.M.

“Quinn, it's been a long day. I thought we'd order dinner from room service.”

After a thirty-minute nap then a shower, she was fully alert. She looked at Logan, then her cell phone. She had calls to make and eating in the suite meant she could stay in her shorts, always a plus.

“Good idea. Is there a menu?”

They discussed options for several minutes and finally decided on grilled salmon rather than steak as it was healthier. Of course, cheesecake would zap the saved calories.

While Logan placed the order, Quinn moved into the dining room and called Roddy.

“It's Quinn. How's your Mom?”

“Good, thanks for asking. How's Las Vegas? Any Elvis sightings?”

“Not yet. What's new on your end?”

“We got a hit. The funds were transferred yesterday from the Cayman Islands to a bank in Zurich, Switzerland. We'll try to work our magic again.”

Hot damn. “Was the transfer amount the whole $25 million or had some been used?”

“Good question. I'll get back to you on that. What have you stumbled across?”

She could hear the smile in Roddy's voice and gave him the details about seeing Scooter, and Rebecca's purchases at Hermes and Tiffany's.

“Good work,” he said. “I'll dig deeper into Scooter's background and see if there's a connection with Rebecca outside of the office.”

“Excellent,” Quinn said. “By the way, how was your drink with Lynne?”

“Promising.”

Ten minutes later, she listened to her messages and attempted to return all the calls. The most important being that Ruthie had gotten engaged and the wedding was planned for August. After leaving voice messages, she strolled back to the living room. Logan stood behind the bar, uncorking a bottle of wine. She planted herself on a stool across from him.

“Hey there, whatcha doing?” she asked.