unpack later, okay?”
Jade let herself be sidetracked, but she couldn’t forget the look on that old man’s face. Why would he tell her she was going to go home? In her world, there was no such thing.
It was Luke’s second day in San Francisco. He’d located the organizer of the street fair, only to find out that the booth where Shelly Hudson had purchased Margaret’s picture had been reserved under the name Laurel Ann Hardy and paid for in cash. He’d laughed when the woman had read off the name. So Sam’s daughter had a sense of humor. The name she’d given the organizer was nothing more than a play on the name of the comedy team Laurel and Hardy. To make matters worse, the address that she’d given as her residence didn’t exist. He’d questioned the people who’d shared booths on either side of her but learned nothing that would help him in his search.
With only an hour or so until sundown, he was no closer to finding Jade Cochrane than he’d been when he’d stepped off the plane.
He made a call to Sam but got his answering machine instead. He left him a brief message, with the promise to call again in the morning, then hailed a cab and headed back to his hotel.
Once in his room, he turned on the television, then kicked off his shoes and began stripping off his clothes as he headed for the shower. He had a dinner date with an old college buddy and didn’t want to be late.
A short while later he emerged; refreshed and clean-shaven; he was looking forward to seeing his friend. From time to time he would glance at the television, keeping an absent eye on the evening news. It wasn’t until he sat down on the foot of the bed to put on his shoes that he really focused on the story being aired.
A storm had moved in off the southern coast of Louisiana and was deluging the state with thunderstorms. New Orleans was in a severe state of flooding, and people in different parts of the old city were being evacuated.
“Hell of a deal,” he muttered to himself, then reached for a shoe as the on-air journalist began a voice-over for a piece of film that had been shot earlier in the day.
But it wasn’t what the journalist was saying that caught his attention. It was the woman being carried out of a building toward a waiting motorboat. Her hair and clothing were soaked and plastered to her body. Her face was expressionless, her arms wrapped tightly around the neck of the man in whose arms she was held. But he’d seen that face—in Shelly’s photos. It was her! Sam’s daughter! But what the hell was she doing in New Orleans?
Luke dropped the shoe as he jumped to his feet and began searching for the remote to turn up the volume. All he got before the coverage was over was that the film had been shot earlier in the day, and that the Mississippi River, which was causing all the trouble, had yet to crest.
“Oh man, oh man,” he muttered, and tossed down the remote as he reached for the phone. He dialed quickly, without taking his gaze from the television screen. And then his call was answered. “Hey, Carson, it’s me, Luke. Listen, I’m going to have to bail on you. My case has taken a weird turn, and I’ve got to catch the late flight to Louisiana…. Yeah, I’m sorry, too, but this is really important. I’ll catch up with you another time, okay?”
Moments later, he disconnected, then dialed the front desk.
“This is Luke Kelly, in 1202. My plans have changed, and I’m checking out tonight. I’ll need a cab within the next fifteen minutes.”
After that, he made one more call, to LAX, and then began throwing his clothes into his suitcase. He had less than two hours to get to the airport, pass through security and board his flight to New Orleans. He kept thinking of the flooding and wondered if they would be able to land. However, he would worry about that later. He didn’t know how or why Jade Cochrane had gotten from California to Louisiana in such a short space of time, but he couldn’t
Jade let herself be sidetracked, but she couldn’t forget the look on that old man’s face. Why would he tell her she was going to go home? In her world, there was no such thing.
It was Luke’s second day in San Francisco. He’d located the organizer of the street fair, only to find out that the booth where Shelly Hudson had purchased Margaret’s picture had been reserved under the name Laurel Ann Hardy and paid for in cash. He’d laughed when the woman had read off the name. So Sam’s daughter had a sense of humor. The name she’d given the organizer was nothing more than a play on the name of the comedy team Laurel and Hardy. To make matters worse, the address that she’d given as her residence didn’t exist. He’d questioned the people who’d shared booths on either side of her but learned nothing that would help him in his search.
With only an hour or so until sundown, he was no closer to finding Jade Cochrane than he’d been when he’d stepped off the plane.
He made a call to Sam but got his answering machine instead. He left him a brief message, with the promise to call again in the morning, then hailed a cab and headed back to his hotel.
Once in his room, he turned on the television, then kicked off his shoes and began stripping off his clothes as he headed for the shower. He had a dinner date with an old college buddy and didn’t want to be late.
A short while later he emerged; refreshed and clean-shaven; he was looking forward to seeing his friend. From time to time he would glance at the television, keeping an absent eye on the evening news. It wasn’t until he sat down on the foot of the bed to put on his shoes that he really focused on the story being aired.
A storm had moved in off the southern coast of Louisiana and was deluging the state with thunderstorms. New Orleans was in a severe state of flooding, and people in different parts of the old city were being evacuated.
“Hell of a deal,” he muttered to himself, then reached for a shoe as the on-air journalist began a voice-over for a piece of film that had been shot earlier in the day.
But it wasn’t what the journalist was saying that caught his attention. It was the woman being carried out of a building toward a waiting motorboat. Her hair and clothing were soaked and plastered to her body. Her face was expressionless, her arms wrapped tightly around the neck of the man in whose arms she was held. But he’d seen that face—in Shelly’s photos. It was her! Sam’s daughter! But what the hell was she doing in New Orleans?
Luke dropped the shoe as he jumped to his feet and began searching for the remote to turn up the volume. All he got before the coverage was over was that the film had been shot earlier in the day, and that the Mississippi River, which was causing all the trouble, had yet to crest.
“Oh man, oh man,” he muttered, and tossed down the remote as he reached for the phone. He dialed quickly, without taking his gaze from the television screen. And then his call was answered. “Hey, Carson, it’s me, Luke. Listen, I’m going to have to bail on you. My case has taken a weird turn, and I’ve got to catch the late flight to Louisiana…. Yeah, I’m sorry, too, but this is really important. I’ll catch up with you another time, okay?”
Moments later, he disconnected, then dialed the front desk.
“This is Luke Kelly, in 1202. My plans have changed, and I’m checking out tonight. I’ll need a cab within the next fifteen minutes.”
After that, he made one more call, to LAX, and then began throwing his clothes into his suitcase. He had less than two hours to get to the airport, pass through security and board his flight to New Orleans. He kept thinking of the flooding and wondered if they would be able to land. However, he would worry about that later. He didn’t know how or why Jade Cochrane had gotten from California to Louisiana in such a short space of time, but he couldn’t
Similar Books
