Still the One (14 page)

“Do you remember what she was wearing?” Kit asked.

“Oh, yeah.” A grin split the man’s pinched features. “A lime green zebra shirt. Tight.”

Kit rolled her eyes, but Rafe gave the guy a half smile. “Thanks. Do you have a phone book we could look at for a minute?”

“Sure.” The man pointed at a small worktable, which held a phone book, phone, stapler and a box of paper clips.

Kit walked with Rafe to the table. “What are you doing?”

“Looking up hotels.” He flipped to the business listings. “I don’t think there’s any sense in waiting around here. We can check out the hotels in town, then swing back. If she comes in, Check Boy there will tell her we were here. She’ll wait.”

“Yes. There’s no way she’d leave without this money.”

Several minutes later, after making a copy of the single page that listed the hotels in Wexler, they thanked the man and told him Liz might show up again. If so, would he ask her to wait? The man agreed.

Rafe held the door for Kit, and she walked past him, more aware than she liked of the strong hand holding the door, the corded forearm bared by rolled sleeves. Once outside, he slid his sunglasses on, hiding his eyes. His features closed, his jaw set, he looked intimidating. And unfamiliar.

“She’ll call.” She suddenly felt the urge to fill the silence that had followed them all the way from Oklahoma City. “She won’t be happy that I didn’t wire the money.”

“Maybe we’ll hear from her soon.” He unlocked the ’Vette’s door and opened it for her.

Once in the car, he circled the block, then turned the opposite direction down Center Street. The town stretched about four miles along the busy main street. The first hotel was a little over a mile through town, on the other side of the highway overpass. They drove past fast-food restaurants, a tire store, a statuary, several florists.

The Wexler Inn resembled an old English cottage. Made of light stucco and dark timbers, it boasted the same old-world charm as the downtown area. Inside, they spoke to a reservations clerk. The young woman didn’t recognize the photos of either Liz or Tony, but she offered to fax the pictures to the night manager, who was at home. The night manager didn’t recognize them, either.

Kit thanked the woman and walked out with Rafe, fighting irritation. Where was Liz? Had she led them on a wild-goose chase? “She never could stay anywhere longer than a minute.”

Hands braced on his hips, Rafe surveyed the long avenue of businesses, the steady stream of noon-hour traffic. “If she’s here, we’ll find her.”

“She’s here,” Kit said quickly, running a hand through her hair. “She’s probably just getting me back for not sending that money right away. Too bad. I’ve been waiting on her, worried out of my mind.”

Rafe turned his head and looked at her, his dark eyebrows arching.

“What?”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Tough looks good on you.”

She waved him off, walked to the car, but she couldn’t squelch her smile. Nor could she dismiss the warmth his words sent through her. For the first time since last night, he’d said something personal, and it had been a compliment. She thought she’d long ago outgrown the need for male approval, but evidently approval from Rafe was different.

There were five more hotels in town, and they checked them all. Finally, at the last one, the desk clerk who’d just come on his shift recognized both Tony and Liz. “Sure, they stayed here. Checked out early this morning.”

Kit, who’d been turning away in anticipation of failure, pivoted. “How long were they here?”

“Just the one night.”

“Did they register as Mr. and Mrs. Tony Valentine?” Rafe slid off his glasses, shifted to make room for Kit as she stepped up to the counter.

“No.” The older man typed something into his computer, then looked up. “Mr. and Mrs. Washington.”

Kit shared a look with Rafe, who nodded to show he recognized her mother’s maiden name.

“Thanks.” Rafe took her elbow and guided her outside. This time, he didn’t seem to notice he was touching her.

“So now what?” Kit’s arm burned with the imprint of his fingers.

“We definitely know they’ve been here. We know Liz was at Check It Out a couple of hours ago.”

“We know she wouldn’t leave town without that money,” Kit offered.

“Probably. Unless something happened.”

“Like Alexander?”

“Maybe. I haven’t spotted anyone following us since we left Oklahoma City, but that doesn’t mean Alexander didn’t get a line on Liz and Tony.”

He let go of her to slide the sunglasses on. She could feel his gaze, intense and penetrating, from behind the reflective lenses, and she fought the urge to squirm.

He walked toward the ’Vette. “I think we should check in with the police.”

“There’s no way Liz or Tony would go there.” Sunlight bounced off the car’s hood, shimmered in the lenses of Rafe’s glasses.

“If we’re going to find them before Alexander’s goons do, we need to spread the word about them.”

Kit nodded, determinedly shoving away her admiration of the way his broad shoulders filled out the soft denim of his shirt, the way his jeans molded sleekly to his long legs. She settled into the car.

He drove the way they’d come, into downtown Wexler, past Check It Out and pulled up in front of a white-painted brick building that took up about half a city block. Black stenciling on its front identified it as the Wexler Police Department.

A pair of glass doors led them into a small tiled entry with an elevator. Cool air swirling around them, they walked through another set of glass doors to their left and past a row of chairs lined up against the wall.

A petite, gray-haired woman smiled at them from behind a tall sheet of bulletproof glass that stretched from wall to
wall. In a small alcove to Kit’s right was a door marked Personnel Only.

Rafe fished his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and nudged it through the bowl-shaped opening beneath the glass. “Hi, I’m a private investigator from Oklahoma, and I wondered if I could talk to your duty sergeant?”

The woman flipped open his wallet, studied his license then picked up the phone close to her right hand. After she hung up, she said, “Sergeant Smith will be right out.”

A few minutes later, the door marked Personnel Only opened. A tall, lanky man with shrewd eyes and the freckled face of a farm boy identified himself as Sergeant Smith and invited them back. Rafe put the man’s age close to his own thirty-two.

Open doors, marked with name plaques, lined both sides of a long corridor. The walls, painted a soft blue, sported framed photos of various officers receiving awards, posing on motorcycles in full dress uniform and lined up for group shots. The sergeant showed them into the break room, the sixth and last door on the right. A big poster of a classic, cherry-red Corvette was mounted on the wall next to an old refrigerator.

Rafe smiled in admiration. “A sixty-seven Stingray. I’ve got a black one.”

“That’s mine,” Smith said. “Great cars.”

“Yes.”

The sergeant eased down onto the corner of a long table holding foam cups and an ancient coffeemaker. “Esther said you’re a P.I.?”

“That’s right,” Rafe confirmed.

Kit sank down on a scratched metal chair, content to let Rafe do the talking but paying close attention to every word.

“I’m working a missing persons case.” He showed the officer pictures of Liz and Tony while filling him in on
what had happened. “We got a call from Liz last night that they were in this area, but we haven’t been able to locate them yet.”

Smith looked at the pictures, then shook his head. “Sorry, haven’t seen them.”

“Her hair’s blond now,” Kit offered, scooting forward in her chair.

“Sorry.” He gave her a sympathetic smile before shifting his gaze to Rafe. “You say there’s a mob connection?”

“Yeah. And I’ve got descriptions of two guys suspected of murder who are probably following them. One’s very slender, six feet tall, and the other is about five foot eight, balding with a thick neck.”

Smith had taken out a small, well-worn notebook while Rafe talked and now scribbled a note. “I’ll put the word out. Give you a call if I come across anything.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

“Yes, thank you,” Kit added.

Rafe circled his cell phone number on his business card and passed it to Sergeant Smith.

The officer rose. “Let’s get copies of your pictures, then check with the guys who aren’t out on calls right now.”

“Great.”

As Smith led them around the corner and down another hall, he looked at the photos again. Holding up Liz’s picture, his gaze sliced to Kit. “I see a resemblance in the eyes. Related?”

“She’s my sister,” Kit said.

He nodded, stopping inside the doorway of a small room, cramped with half a dozen desks and computers. Two officers, one male, one female, sat in front of computer screens, hunched over keyboards. Two other males leaned back in wooden-legged chairs with their feet propped on their desks.

Sergeant Smith held up the photos of Liz and Tony.
“Hey, guys, anybody seen these two people? The woman’s gone blond.”

Chairs creaked as the four officers rose to their feet and ambled over. The auburn-haired male officer who’d been working on the computer and was about Rafe’s height studied the pictures, then passed them back. “No, haven’t seen ’em.”

Kit pressed against the doorjamb, peering around Rafe.

The lone female officer, a pretty brunette, bent her head over the pictures. “No, sorry,” she murmured, her gaze lingering on Rafe a little longer than Kit liked.

The next officer, a young man with a crew cut and massive biceps that strained the sleeves of his uniform, reached across the brunette. He straightened when he saw Liz’s picture. “Hey, Georgie, we’ve seen this woman.”

Kit’s heart leaped, and she clutched a handful of Rafe’s shirt. She couldn’t help it, almost didn’t care when he stiffened.

The younger officer, Scott, motioned over a barrel-shaped man with stubby legs and a cigar clamped between his teeth.

“Yeah, we’ve definitely seen her,” Officer Scott said.

Georgie, identified as Pollack by his name tag, leaned close, then removed the cigar stub and grinned. “We were in the diner earlier this morning and she walked in. Ordered two breakfasts to go.”

“You’re sure it was her? Did you see Tony, too?” Kit stepped around Rafe, encouraged.

“Didn’t see him, ma’am, but I ain’t likely to forget a woman with a set of—er, a woman like that.” His eyes glowed, and Kit could just imagine his thoughts. She’d seen it all before and for the first time was really thankful that Liz’s looks drew such notice.

“We knew she wasn’t from around here.”

“Did you happen to notice as she was leaving,” Rafe
asked with a male-bonding grin, “what kind of car she was in?”

“Actually, we did.” From the sheepish grin on the younger officer’s face, Kit figured they had watched Liz as long as possible. Typical male response, especially if her sister had dyed her long, thick hair blond. “They were in a Ford pickup, white. Probably eight or ten years old. Oklahoma tags.”

“Great.” Rafe shook hands with both men.

“Her hair’s shorter, too. About here.” Officer Scott indicated his collarbone.

Kit was shocked Liz had cut her hair. “Thanks.”

“You’re not the only one looking for ’em.”

She stilled, looking at Rafe.

“No, we’re not.” His gaze narrowed slightly. “How’d you know that?”

“About fifteen, twenty minutes later, a bald guy walks in, shows the waitress a picture and I heard her tell him that a woman matching that same description had just left.”

Bald guy. With a thick neck, Kit thought, concern worming into her excitement over getting a lead.

Rafe asked, “Did you happen to see which direction the woman in the truck went?”

“Looked like they were heading north, for US-69, but I couldn’t tell you for sure.”

“That’s great. We really appreciate your help.”

“Any time,” Sergeant Smith said, shaking Rafe’s hand. “We don’t want any trouble, especially with the mob. We’ll keep an eye out.”

Once outside, Rafe paused next to Kit’s door after opening it.

“Sounds like they’ve already left,” she said.

“Probably, but now we know what they’re driving. At least for now. Let’s sweep through the parking lots in town.”

“All right.” Captured between the car and Rafe’s broad chest, Kit told herself to get in the car before she did something she’d regret, like touch him. As she settled in her seat, he shut the door, then walked around and got in.

“I’m surprised Liz hasn’t called yet.” Kit fastened her seat belt as Rafe started the car.

“Until she does, we should probably stay put. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No. Of course not.” But she did. She needed desperately to get some kind of space from him. She’d been counting on her sister to provide that. Maybe Liz was still here.

An hour later, they’d made a sweep of every parking lot in town, including the hotels they’d already checked. No sign of an old-model white Ford pickup with Oklahoma tags.

“Looks like we missed them,” Kit said.

He turned into the parking lot of the Wexler Inn. “How about if we hole up here and wait until we hear from Liz?”

The prospect of spending another night alone with Rafe snapped her nerves taut. “You don’t think we can catch them?”

“Which direction, Kit?”

“Good point.” She noted the tight lines of his body, the white lines that fanned out from his generous mouth. “Look, I’m sorry about this—”

“Hey, none of this is your fault. We’ll find them. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to take off without having some idea where to go.”

“I agree.” She watched the cars whiz by on the busy street in front of them.

“So, we’ll check in here. We can get separate rooms. Since it seems that Alexander’s goons are ahead of us rather than behind, there’s no reason we have to crowd each other.”

Crowd each other?
She wouldn’t have put it that way, but then she hadn’t been the one to put their past in a box that would never be opened again, had she? She forced a smile. “Great. Two rooms. Then what?”