The Ex Who Glowed in the Dark (Charley's Ghost) (7 page)

“But it's not like on TV, is it?” Dawson asked, refusing to be comforted. “It's not as simple as just inputting the DNA sequence and letting the computer find a suspect, is it? Even if you find a suspect, that still won't tell you where my brother is.”

Ross gripped Dawson's shoulder. “No, it won't be as easy as they make it seem on TV, but we can do it.”

“While you’re working on that, I'll go question the other tenants,” Jake said.

“We already questioned two of them.” Amanda sat up straighter. Maybe her earlier efforts hadn’t been completely wasted after all. Maybe she had done something right.

Jake frowned. “You did? Who did you talk to? What did they say? I wish you hadn’t done that before we got here.”

So much for thinking she’d done something right. “Hey, we didn’t contaminate them or anything. We just asked if they saw something suspicious, and they didn’t.”

“I’ll talk to them again.” He turned and started toward the door.

“No!” Dawson shot to his feet. “What if they’re watching and see you talking to the neighbors after we already talked to them and figure out I called the police?”

Jake opened his mouth as if to protest, but Amanda laid a hand on his arm and looked at Dawson. “I’ll go with him,” she said reassuringly, “introduce him as my cousin. It’ll be okay. You stay here and help Ross.”

Dawson hesitated then sat back down. “Okay.”

He trusted her, counted on her. That was a little scary.

“I think I'll come along too,” Charley said. “Scout the places first and be sure nobody’s waiting inside to blow you away.”

Yeah, a ghost who could only make his presence known as a cold chill was going to be more effective than a cop with a handgun.

Amanda ignored him and turned to Jake. “Come on, cousin.”

They had just stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind them, when Dawson's shout stopped them.

“Amanda! It's Grant!”

Jake yanked the door open and Amanda darted back in. “Where?”

Dawson pointed to his laptop. “Another e-mail just came in. Look.”

The image showed a young boy, eyes wide with fear, sitting in a chair with a gun pressed to the side of his head.

Chapter Six

Jake yanked out a chair and sat down at the table again. Ross did the same and pulled the laptop close. Both men peered intently at the image on the screen.

“Look at the wall behind him. Rough wood. Could be a cabin, a shed, a barn. Not a finished room,” Jake said.

“Gun’s a
Glock 17. That narrows it down to about a million. But look at the way he’s holding it, palming the grip.” Ross pointed to the anonymous fingers wrapped around the gun.

Amanda leaned over Jake’s shoulder to get a closer look at the picture. The man’s grip definitely looked awkward. His right hand was a little low, and he cupped his left hand under the bottom of the stock.

Jake nodded. “I see it. Probably not an experienced shooter. That point’s in our favor.”

Amanda studied the picture carefully, searching every detail. “What’s Grant doing with his hands?”

“Clenching his fists. He’s terrified but trying not to show it.”

“Grant’s not scared!” Dawson protested.

Amanda straightened and slid an arm around Dawson’s tense shoulders. “Anybody with a gun pointed at his head would be scared. Been there, done that. Trust me, even Batman would lose his cool if somebody aimed a Glock at his bat mask.”

Jake lifted his head and looked at Dawson. “She’s right. If your brother wasn’t terrified, I’d be worried they’d drugged him.”

“Agreed,” Ross said without looking up. “I don’t even want to talk about what I did the first time somebody shoved a gun in my face. Look, I think that’s a wooden ladder-back chair he’s sitting in. They could be in an old farmhouse.”

Jake returned his attention to the picture. “Possible.”

“I’ll go in for a closer look.” Charley darted through the laptop, causing the image to ripple.

Amanda repressed the desire to say something rude. This was a critical situation and Charley just wanted to be the center of attention.

“Grant’s driving!” Dawson exclaimed. “That’s why he has his hands up like that. He’s trying to tell us that they drove him—” He frowned and sagged into a chair. “That doesn’t help, does it? Of course they drove him there.”

“Yeah, not like they could fly.” Charley swooped around the room.

As soon as they were alone, Amanda would tell him what she thought of his flippant attitude when a child’s life was at stake. He was getting farther and farther away from that white light.

Jake reached for the laptop and looked at Dawson. “Can you make it do that again?”

Dawson shook his head. “I didn’t do it. Some sort of electrical fluke. Why do you want it to happen again?”

“I can do it,” Charley boasted and darted through the computer several times.

Amanda clenched her teeth and resisted the urge to smack him. She wouldn’t be able to hurt him and she’d look silly swatting at the air.

“You see it?” Jake asked.

Ross nodded. “Dawson’s right. The movement does make it look like the kid’s driving. The way he’s holding his hands, he’s trying to tell us something.”

“Yes!” Dawson agreed excitedly, scooting his chair around to get a better look at the small screen. “He’s not scared. He’s lived through some terrible things. He’s just a little kid, but he’s brave. He’s smart. He’s trying to let us know where to find him.”

Charley scowled. “Glad I could help. You don’t need to thank me.”

Amanda certainly had no intention of thanking him. He wasn’t trying to help. He was only trying to get attention.

“Driving…a golf course?” Jake suggested.

“Maybe,” Ross said. “There are plenty of them around. Probably have a lot of tool sheds with unfinished walls on them. But that would be too public. They didn’t gag him, so they aren’t worried somebody will hear him scream.”

“Not golf,” Dawson said. “Grant plays baseball, no interest in golf. He wouldn’t think of
driving
being a golf clue. It’s got to mean actual driving, like in a vehicle.”

Jake drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Drive, car, bus, drive-in theater…”

“Hands on the wheel, turn the wheel, Ferris wheel, Ferris wheel at Fair Park,” Ross contributed.

Dawson sat abruptly upright.
“Wagon Wheel Park! In Coppell. About fifteen miles northeast of here. It’s his favorite place to play baseball.”

“That’s brilliant!” Amanda enthused. And she hoped it was accurate. Dawson’s expression had done an about face from despair to hope. She didn’t want to see him disappointed again.

“I’ve heard of it,” Jake said. “Do they have cabins? Outbuildings? Something with rough walls?”

“No cabins, but they have lots of buildings. They have a tennis center and a gym and places you can rent for parties.” Dawson stood, his excitement rising to a fever pitch. “We need to check it out.”

Jake and Ross exchanged a look that didn’t bode well for Dawson’s enthusiasm.

“We’ll check it out, but it’s a long shot that he’s actually being held in the park. That would be too public, too many people around,” Jake said quietly.

“It’s not all crowded with people,” Dawson insisted, refusing to let his enthusiasm be dampened, to lose the sudden thread of hope. “There’s nature trails and lots of open land and trees in the park as well as on the way there. Acres of places he could be.”

“Yeah,” Jake agreed.
“Acres. That’s a lot of land to cover and still keep a low profile. We’d need to bring in our search and rescue team. The only way to cover that much ground would be with a lot of men, dogs and helicopters.”

“No!” Dawson shook his head. “We’re taking a chance on Grant’s life just having the two of you here. You read what they said. They’ll kill him if they know I’ve talked to you. I’ll go look for him myself.”

He took a step toward the door, but Amanda moved in front of him, blocking his way. “Your bike’s at the shop.” And he still wasn’t in any shape to be riding it.

“I’ll take the truck.”

“I’ll drive you in the truck.”

Ross stood, lifting his backpack. “Actually, I need Dawson to stay here to answer questions while I go through Grant’s room.”

Jake rose too. “I’ll drive out there and look around.”

“I’ll go with you.” Amanda picked up her purse and started toward the door.

“No, you won’t,” Charley and Jake said at the same time.

Amanda looked at both of them in amazement. “Yes, I will. What makes either of you think you can stop me?”

“Either of us?” Jake looked around the room.

“You or, uh, Ross.”

Ross looked bewildered. “I didn’t say you can’t go with Daggett. Boy makes his own decisions.”

For the first time, Amanda was thrilled to hear her cell phone ring and draw attention away from her blunder. Even if it was her mother, she’d probably answer it just for a diversion. She yanked the phone from her purse and looked at the display.
Sunny. “I forgot! Sunny and I are supposed to go for a bike ride then have dinner to celebrate my name change. I’ll tell her I can’t make it.”

“Go,” Dawson said, grabbing her arm and gazing intently into her eyes. “You need to go for a ride with Sunny.”

He was trying to get rid of her? He thought she’d done so little to help that he wanted to send her away?

No. His expression was too anxious, his grip on her arm too tense.

“Take the scenic route and look around.”

Of course! Jake Daggett might not allow her to come along on an official
search, but she and Sunny could ride over to Wagon Wheel Park, take a few side trails, look around. Charley could look around too, cover more ground than they could, check into locked buildings, make himself useful for a change.

“Good idea,” Jake said. “Go for a ride. Clear your head. It may help you think of something crucial about this case.”

“Yeah, go,” Charley encouraged. “Get away from these cops.”

Amanda answered her phone.

“Where are you?” Sunny asked. “I’m here and your shop’s closed. Is everything all right?”

“Not really, but I’ll be there in five minutes.” She disconnected the call, returned the phone to her purse and smiled. “Okay, I’m off for a fun ride.
Later, guys.”

Jake arched a suspicious eyebrow. “Where do you plan to ride?”

“Wherever we please.”

His eyes narrowed and his gaze hardened. “I’m going to Wagon Wheel Park right now. I hope you’re not planning to ride in that same direction by some wild coincidence.”

“No, you’re not going there, are you, Amanda?” Charley asked. “Tell him you’re not planning to go anywhere near there. You don’t need to go the same place he’s going.”

Amanda hoisted her purse onto her shoulder, looked Jake directly in the eye and tilted her head indignantly. “Did you seriously just try to tell me where I can or can't ride my motorcycle? I’ve been choosing my own routes for a lot of years. I don't think you'll find anything in the Constitution that gives you the right to dictate where I ride. That’s balls, Daggett, really balls.”

He sighed but had the balls not to look even a little bit intimidated. “Let me put it this way. Should you happen to find yourself in the vicinity of Wagon Wheel Park and see anything even slightly suspicious, do me a favor and don’t go charging in with some crazy idea of saving the world. I’ve got a big caseload right now, and I’d just as soon not have to look for your killer too.”

“If I get killed, I’ll see that somebody else gets my case.” Amanda whirled away from him, heading toward the door.

“Do you have my cell number?”

Amanda stopped. Having a cell number for a cop might be a good thing.
Having a cell number for a really attractive although annoying cop was an even more enticing thought. She turned back. “No, I don’t. What is it?” She took out her phone and located the listing for his work number. He gave her his cell number and she tapped it in. “Got it. Thanks.” She looked at him and found him looking at her. That was normal. They were talking to each other. Of course they’d be looking at each other. But there was something compelling about his expression, something personal.

“I’m going to be in the vicinity,” he said, “so you might think about giving me a call instead of doing something stupid like what you did in Silver Creek.”

Or maybe she’d imagined that brief personal look in his eyes, seen what she wanted to see.

She thrust out her jaw. “What I did? Thanks to my actions, you got Roland Kimball handed to you on a platter.” She opened the door and stomped down the stairs, her motorcycle boots making satisfying thuds.

*~*~*

Amanda pulled into the parking lot of her shop and brought the ancient truck to a shuddering stop. One day they probably ought to do some work on it, but working on bikes was so much more fun.
And more profitable.

A few feet away in the shade of a big live oak, Sunny leaned against her black Harley Crossbones. She’d chosen the dark color in a futile attempt to maintain the image of a sedate lawyer in Silver Creek. Her black leather jacket lay draped over the handlebars and she clutched her helmet under one arm.