“You should have said something.” Unfastening his seat belt, Paul turned and reached to the seat behind them, pulling a sizable duffel over the back of the seat and onto his lap. “What sounds good? I’ve got cheese and crackers, peanut butter and crackers, peanut butter with pretzels, chips and salsa and beef jerky. It’s with jalapeños, though, so you won’t like it.”

  She almost laughed. With all of his refined tastes, he’d always been a sucker for junk food.

  “Oh, and there’s a couple of things of tuna and crackers left, too.” He pulled a small rectangular box out of the bag that showed a small can of tuna and crackers on the front of it.

  “I’ll have the tuna,” she said, and when he served it up, can open and dipping crackers within reach, she finished it all. “Got any more of the peanut butter pretzels?” she asked then, having seen him already down a bag of them. And a pack of cheese crackers sandwiched with peanut butter in the middle of them.

  “I do.” He handed them to her. Along with a much-needed bottle of water, which he uncapped and put in the cup holder for her. It was warm. But wet and so, wonderful, too.

  “I’m impressed that you thought to pack all of this,” she told him, munching more slowly on the pretzels. Kind of enjoying their little impromptu road trip in spite of all of the adverse circumstances.

  “It’s my go bag,” he told her, tossing the duffel back over the seat and opening his laptop. “Just part of becoming a skip tracer. I sometimes spend twelve or more hours in one spot, waiting or watching, to find what I’m looking for. And when I’m following someone, I can’t just ask them to hold on while I get something to eat.”

  Made perfect sense. She’d just never thought of wealthy and fun-loving Paul Wright without all of the luxuries he’d been born to at his beck and call.

  Not that he’d ever flaunted his wealth with her. Or been at all irresponsible or lacking in work ethic. He’d just never seemed like the type to go without.

  Not sure what to make of that—her early assumption, the correctness or error of it, changes in him that might have occurred between then and the moments she was sharing with him—she drove for the next hour while he worked, their silence only broken when he had a question for her, or made a comment about something he’d found.

  Just outside Boulder City, the mountain town just before Vegas, he made a somewhat significant announcement.

  “The luxury high-rise Kelsey was living in before she disappeared, her last known residence, was paid for by a shell company.”

  She didn’t ask how he knew that.

  “A company that doesn’t exist?”

  “A company that legally exists, but is mostly just a name and some bank accounts through which money is moved. Makes it possible for people to buy and sell things without record of them doing it themselves. Or for companies to move assets. In this case, it means that someone was paying Kelsey’s rent, but not doing it out of his own accounts.”

  She wanted to be shocked. Or, at least, to not understand the significance of that. “The guy she was with didn’t want someone to know he was with her.”

  “That’s the most likely conclusion.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “I think I need to find out what else this company has paid for, and who owns it, before I form any more conclusions.”

  She knew he was right. Appreciated his professionalism.

  And wanted him to agree with her at the same time. To tell her that they were getting closer to their answers, not just digging up dirt.

  * * *

  “Uh-oh.” Haley’s words weren’t said in an alarming way, but they pulled Paul from the digging he’d been doing with a spike of dread.

  “What?”

  “What the heck?” she said then, a definite note of annoyance in her tone now as she looked in the rearview mirror. Before he could turn around, he noticed the red flashing lights reflecting off the inside of the Expedition.

  “I wasn’t speeding, Paul, I swear. I have no idea what...”

  “Just pull over,” he told her, trying not to let her see his tension. “Let’s see what he wants.” It wasn’t going to be good. All of his instincts were telling him...it wasn’t going to be good.

  Especially given what he’d discovered while she’d been driving—but hadn’t yet told her about.

  He’d been trying to find out who’d hacked into his computer search more than an hour before, but something told him that the cops had something to do with it. “Just be yourself and answer his questions honestly,” he said, and gritted his teeth as he waited, powerless to do anything but sit in the passenger seat and pay attention.

  As Haley rolled down her window to the approaching officer, he thought, too late, that he should have gone with his instincts and made her switch seats with him. And be damned with how that would look.

  If he’d put her in danger...

  “License and registration, please.”

  Haley dug in her purse for her wallet and Paul grabbed the vehicle registration out of his glove box.

  “I’ll be right back,” the heavily armed officer said.

  “When he returns, if you see any sudden movement, duck,” Paul told her. “And if I move, at all, except to answer a question if it’s asked of me, you duck, got it? No arguing, no hesitating. You duck.”

  She nodded. “What’s going on?” He could hear fear in her tone, but she appeared calm. In control.

  The Haley who got things done in times of stress. He calmed a bit. “I’m not sure. Maybe nothing.” He’d tell her about the computer hack. But not until the cop was gone.

  Though it seemed interminable, the wait was only a couple of minutes, and the officer, as he reapproached, seemed to be more at ease. “Everything’s in order,” he said, handing back to Haley the documents he’d taken. “You two heading into Vegas for holiday?”

  Haley hesitated. Paul decided just to sit still and see what happened next. To study the officer. To listen. If the man reached for his waist, Paul would get to his first. “No,” Haley answered after a brief pause. “My sister was living here and was killed in a car crash a few weeks ago. We’re hoping to get into her apartment and collect whatever personal items might be left.”

  If the situation hadn’t been so tense, Paul might have smiled. He was impressed.

  And aware, too. The officer had ducked down twice to get looks at him. He’d have introduced himself but he’d told Haley to duck if he spoke without being spoken to.

  “You Paul Wright?” the man finally asked. Haley had given him the vehicle registration. The man could have just run a check on him.

  “Yes,” he said then. “Owner of the vehicle and licensed officer,” he told the man, without pulling out the credentials he always carried.

  “You’re a bounty hunter,” the man said.

  “A skip tracer, yes, but, as the lady said, right now we’re heading into town for the weekend to clean out her sister’s apartment.”

  “You two are friends, then?”

  “Exes, actually,” Paul told the officer, getting more and more certain that the man was looking for information. He just wasn’t sure yet, what. Or why.

  “Well good luck,” the middle-aged cop said, tapping the top of the Expedition. “And sorry for the inconvenience. We had reports of a stolen vehicle in the area that matched this description.”

  “No problem, Officer,” Haley told the man and as soon as he stepped away from the SUV, rolled up the window. And then, when the cop was heading toward his vehicle, said, “What was that?” She didn’t sound pleased.

  “Just put this thing in gear, pull out normally and head toward Vegas,” he told her. “I’m not sure what that was. Maybe just a report of a stolen vehicle that looks like mine.”

  She pulled out, seemingly calm as could be. And said, “You don’t think it was a stolen vehicle report.”

  There was no question in her delivery.

  “I take very few things at face value when I’m working. That’s my job. To look deeper.”

  “Paul...”

  How could she know him that well? They’d been apart far longer than they’d ever been together.

  “My computer was hacked about an hour ago. I’ve been trying to follow the IP address to find out who was looking at me, and why.”

  “You think it has something to do with the searches you did on Kelsey’s accounts? Or the call to the tattoo parlor?”

  “Could be either. Or neither.” It was the nature of his work, keeping an open mind as he collected all evidence he could find. The puzzle pieces would fit together when he had enough of them. That was when he could identify and discard extraneous information.

  Both hands on the steering wheel, she was clutching it so tightly her knuckles were white—while she continued to glance often in the rearview mirror.

  “You want me to drive?”

  “No. I want you to focus on figuring this out. Keeping the vehicle between the lines and on the right road, I can do.”

  Traffic was picking up as they got close to Vegas. No way he was burying his head in files. But he liked the ability to focus on every single car, every movement around them.

  “He turned off,” she said, as he watched the police car exit. Didn’t mean the guy hadn’t talked to another car up ahead—police or not.

  “We should take the next exit,” he told her. “I was going to steer clear of the strip, but now I’m thinking that would be the best place to blend in, get a room in a busy casino and get some rest so we can start fresh first thing in the morning.”

  “One room,” Haley said. “Or adjoining rooms with a door we can keep open between them. Until we know more, I’d feel better if we stick together.”

  She’d taken the thoughts right out of his head. Except that in his version he’d been trying to figure out how to get her to agree to the plan without argument.

  If he didn’t know better, he’d think he and Haley made a good team.

  * * *

  The smell of coffee woke Haley sometime after daybreak. Lying still, taking in the streaks of light coming from the closed blinds, she listened for sounds in the adjoining room. She heard none, and figured Paul must be in his shower. In the shorts and shirt she’d slept in—just seemed smart in case they had to leave in a hurry—she hastened past the opened door adjoining their two rooms toward her bathroom.

  Glanced in his room...and their gazes collided. In black jeans and a short-sleeved shirt that hung loosely over the gun at his waist, he was standing in front of the cheap built-in desk bearing his open laptop, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot on top of the equally inexpensive built-in dresser.

  “I’ll just be a few minutes,” she threw over her shoulder as she continued into the bathroom.

  And made it back out in a little more than five, showered, in clean brown shorts and short-sleeved beige shirt, her hair up in a bun and her face already bearing a coat of the sun protection makeup she always wore.

  Paul stood waiting for her, a grim look on his face.

  “What?”

  “A couple of things.” He poured a cup of coffee, handed one to her. Picked up his from the desk.

  Stalling.

  She took a deep breath and waited. Storming him for immediate answers might feel good, but would serve no positive purpose.

  The warm cup felt good against her cool hands. As in most Vegas hotels, the air-conditioning was set way low. She’d been too tired to notice the room’s frigid temperature the night before.

  And too eager to get fully dressed into bed and pretend to be asleep so that there’d be no further awkwardness between her and Paul.

  He’d entered through his door, she through hers...they’d opened their adjoining doors as agreed upon, and said good-night.

  It had been painful. At least for her.

  “First, I called Hudson Warner, one of the Sierra’s Web founding partners, and my direct contact with the firm. He’s also one of the best IT guys in the nation. And he knows more people than I do, believe it or not.”

  He kind of grinned. She tried to return the gesture, to lessen some of the tension suffocating her, but it didn’t work. She could hardly breathe.

  How could she possibly have a light moment in a hotel room with Paul, his unmade bed right in front of her face, and him bearing bad news.

  For a second she allowed herself to think about his naked limbs with the curly dark hair, rumpling the sheets. As a distraction from the dread of what was coming, it worked. For giving her back her air, it was a total fail.

  “Hud made a discreet inquiry on the officer who stopped us last night. The guy has run off-duty security for Gladstone functions a few times over the years.”

  “Next you’re going to tell me that you found your hacker and it was Thomas Gladstone,” she jumped in, unable to just be patient and wait for him to lay the news on her gently.

  He shook his head. “No, I turned that job over to Hud. I’m sure he’ll have an answer for us yet this morning. But what I do know is that the credit card used at the tattoo parlor, the cigar shop and The Gladiator was always paid by the same bank account. And that was registered to Thomas.”

  Careful not to spill her coffee, she set the cup on the counterlike top of the dresser and sank down to the end of the second, unused, bed in the room. “It makes no sense to me,” she said, her stomach knotted to the point of pain. “There’s no way Kelsey would have willingly gone near him again—let alone gotten involved with him. He offered her a payoff after the rape, to keep her mouth shut, but she refused to take it.

  “She kept her mouth shut because she knew he’d just deny everything and that he’d be believed before she would. Even if it took money to get people to stand behind him. He had enough of it to make that happen.”

  “I only know what the facts are telling me. That he paid her credit card bill.”

  “Did he pay the others, too?”

  He shook his head. “At least not that I’ve been able to trace. So far, everything I’ve seen has been paid out of bank accounts in her name, except that one card.”

  “She preferred to have her man deposit money in her account and pay the bills herself, but generally with each new relationship she’d open a new account. She was always paranoid about an ex having her account information.”

  Her throat thick with tears, she made herself stand up. “Gladstone raped her, and then he kidnapped her and, after his baby was born, had her killed.”

  “We don’t know that, yet.”

  “And as soon as he knew you were looking at that account, he had us stopped. That’s why the cop was asking why we were going to Vegas.” Clarity came like a tornado, whipping through her and leaving her devastated.

  And frightened.

  The Gladstones had money in establishments all up and down the Strip. She’d only visited Sin City once before, but she’d learned a ton about the underbelly from Kelsey during her little sister’s liaison with Thomas Gladstone.

  “And this guy Jeanine saw, the one who left me the note, he was someone Kelsey knew, someone who loved her, and he knows where the baby is. We have to find this guy.” It made sense. Sickening sense.

  “If Kelsey was being held by Gladstone, and against her will, why would she have stayed in touch with you and sound so happy?”

  She didn’t have the answer to that.

  “It’s possible that the reason she was keeping her new fiancé a secret was because it was Gladstone and she knew you wouldn’t approve because of the way he’d treated her in the past. It’s possible that Thomas somehow convinced her he’d changed, that he adored her and that he was going to marry her and they were going to live happily-ever-after.”

  Her stomach lurched. No way Kelsey would have fallen for that. No. Way. Her sister might have been somewhat shallow, but she was not stupid, or weak.

  And yet, Haley had no explanation for her sister’s phone calls over the past several months. The note of happiness in Kelsey’s voice...there’d been no mistaking it. Haley had believed her sister had finally found the love of her life and was going to settle down, raise a family someday and be truly happy.

  “We have to find the guy who left the note.” She kept coming back to him. He’d started her on the journey and now he had to show her the way. “Maybe we should be in Santa Barbara, after all...”

  Her voice trailed off as she caught Paul watching her with an odd expression on his face. She couldn’t read him.

  And didn’t like that, either.

  “What?”

  “You hired me to do this job. You’re here to help me identify oddities or similarities and likenesses where Kelsey’s concerned. And to identify any possessions we might find, if you can. If you want this arrangement to change, let me know.”

  “Why would I want it to change?”

  He waited, arms crossed, now, his coffee on the top of the dresser not far from hers.

  “I’m not an equal party here,” she half mumbled as she looked back over the last few minutes and saw herself standing there telling an expert how to do what he’d proven he could do better than most. If he weren’t Paul, if he’d been any other expert, she’d have asked questions. And waited for direction.

  “You’re always equal, Haley.”

  “Just not in terms of this job. I apologize. I didn’t mean to disrespect you or your abilities, Paul. I swear.”

  “I know that. I also know that if I’m going to do my best for you, I have to do things my way.”

  “I understand.”

  He nodded. She stood there, feeling somewhat superfluous and painfully idiotic. And then said, “So what’s the plan?”

  Chapter 5

  Interviewing associates, friends, loved ones of someone he was trying to find was a common part of Paul’s job. Having one beside him every step of the way was all new.