Read Online As Good as Dead by Patricia H. Rushford - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patricia H. Rushford
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girl? Idaho? Angel thanked them and gave them one of the new cards Rachael had ordered for her, the ones that said she was a private investigator. “If you think of anything else he might have said, even in passing, please call me.”
The woman nodded, took the card. “Like I said, I only saw him that once and for just a few minutes.”
Angel left, her mind racing with possibilities as she pointed the Corvette toward home. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d tried to figure out where Luke might have gone. Early on, she’d written down a number of possibilities. One of them had been Sun Valley, Idaho. Luke loved the mountains and water, and sports, especially swimming and skiing. He’d talked about getting a condo in Sun Valley and working there, but when the job came up in Fort Myers, he’d taken it, saying he planned to spend all of his spare time at the beach.
Angel had wanted to visit him in Fort Myers during spring break in her last year of college. He disappeared before she had a chance. Nick was right; gaining this information might prove useless. If Luke didn’t want to be found, he certainly wouldn’t be using his real name or license plate number. Was there any way to find him? He had to have left a clue of some sort.
Did he really have a child? Or had that been a ruse too? Angel had never even considered the possibility that Luke might have married. And a little girl. What if that part was real? Maybe he’d talked to the woman at the motel in a vulnerable moment. Angel clung to the possibility.
Callen’s SUV was already parked in the driveway when she arrived. Sporadic pounding came from the back of the house. The mail truck had driven away just as she arrived, so Angel pulled into the driveway and walked back to the road to check the box. Bank statement, a Coastal Living magazine, a postcard inviting them to list the house with Milestone Realtors. Intent on a card with a California postmark, she almost didn’t see the Priority Mail envelope leaning against the wall next to the screen door.
She picked it up, wondering who’d sent it. No return address, just square black printing that read “Luke Delaney” and a postmark from Portland. Her heart hammered and her stomach clenched—and her police training took over. Heavily taped, no return address. And according to Nick, Luke was in danger. She carefully set the envelope on the wicker table and went inside. Tossing the rest of the mail on the small end table, she closed the door softly behind her. Her gaze took in the empty room, the silent kitchen. Smells emanating from it promised a scrumptious dinner. “Ma?”
Getting no response, she padded back to the master bedroom, where Callen was working.
“She’s out in the garden.” Callen glanced up at her, and his smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
“Good. I mean, I’m glad she’s out there.” Angel peered out the window and, satisfied that her mother wouldn’t overhear, told Callen about the package. “Maybe I’m paranoid with what’s been going on, but... I have a weird feeling about it.”
“Then we’d better have it checked out.” Callen walked with her back to the front door and peered out the window.
“We don’t want to walk out there,” he said. “We’ll want the CSI team to go over the porch, and the less contamination, the better.”
That was one of the things she loved about Callen. He tookher concerns as seriously as he would a colleague’s. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he called the Oregon State Lab and asked that an explosives team be sent out. When he’d hung up he glanced at the kitchen. “They’ll be here in about an hour. In the meantime we’ll have to decide what to do about Anna.”
“Decide what to do about me?” Anna wandered into the living room. “What have I missed?”
Breath rushed out of Angel’s lungs. Great. Just great. The last thing her mother needed was to see that letter or the bomb squad.
“You’re not
The woman nodded, took the card. “Like I said, I only saw him that once and for just a few minutes.”
Angel left, her mind racing with possibilities as she pointed the Corvette toward home. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d tried to figure out where Luke might have gone. Early on, she’d written down a number of possibilities. One of them had been Sun Valley, Idaho. Luke loved the mountains and water, and sports, especially swimming and skiing. He’d talked about getting a condo in Sun Valley and working there, but when the job came up in Fort Myers, he’d taken it, saying he planned to spend all of his spare time at the beach.
Angel had wanted to visit him in Fort Myers during spring break in her last year of college. He disappeared before she had a chance. Nick was right; gaining this information might prove useless. If Luke didn’t want to be found, he certainly wouldn’t be using his real name or license plate number. Was there any way to find him? He had to have left a clue of some sort.
Did he really have a child? Or had that been a ruse too? Angel had never even considered the possibility that Luke might have married. And a little girl. What if that part was real? Maybe he’d talked to the woman at the motel in a vulnerable moment. Angel clung to the possibility.
Callen’s SUV was already parked in the driveway when she arrived. Sporadic pounding came from the back of the house. The mail truck had driven away just as she arrived, so Angel pulled into the driveway and walked back to the road to check the box. Bank statement, a Coastal Living magazine, a postcard inviting them to list the house with Milestone Realtors. Intent on a card with a California postmark, she almost didn’t see the Priority Mail envelope leaning against the wall next to the screen door.
She picked it up, wondering who’d sent it. No return address, just square black printing that read “Luke Delaney” and a postmark from Portland. Her heart hammered and her stomach clenched—and her police training took over. Heavily taped, no return address. And according to Nick, Luke was in danger. She carefully set the envelope on the wicker table and went inside. Tossing the rest of the mail on the small end table, she closed the door softly behind her. Her gaze took in the empty room, the silent kitchen. Smells emanating from it promised a scrumptious dinner. “Ma?”
Getting no response, she padded back to the master bedroom, where Callen was working.
“She’s out in the garden.” Callen glanced up at her, and his smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
“Good. I mean, I’m glad she’s out there.” Angel peered out the window and, satisfied that her mother wouldn’t overhear, told Callen about the package. “Maybe I’m paranoid with what’s been going on, but... I have a weird feeling about it.”
“Then we’d better have it checked out.” Callen walked with her back to the front door and peered out the window.
“We don’t want to walk out there,” he said. “We’ll want the CSI team to go over the porch, and the less contamination, the better.”
That was one of the things she loved about Callen. He tookher concerns as seriously as he would a colleague’s. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he called the Oregon State Lab and asked that an explosives team be sent out. When he’d hung up he glanced at the kitchen. “They’ll be here in about an hour. In the meantime we’ll have to decide what to do about Anna.”
“Decide what to do about me?” Anna wandered into the living room. “What have I missed?”
Breath rushed out of Angel’s lungs. Great. Just great. The last thing her mother needed was to see that letter or the bomb squad.
“You’re not
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