Gone Missing (4 page)

“But what would anyone have to gain by stealing a rental car?” A muscle twitched in Clay's jaw.

“I don't know.”

Clay's hands opened and closed into fists as he paced in front of the truck. The action reminded her a little of Tomas when he became angry, and she couldn't stop the blip of panic at the sight.

God had protected her once, and she'd trusted that He'd protect her again, especially if she was careful about the situations she'd put herself into. But since coming to Phoenix and meeting Clay, the situation had gotten more and more unpredictable.

Yet a part of her seemed to sense that while Tomas had let his temper get out of control, Clay wouldn't cross that line.

Then again, she'd been wrong about Tomas. How could she know that she wouldn't be wrong about Clay?

“Let's get a cab to Fiona's workplace, since my car is there,” she said.

Clay blew out a long breath and put his hands on his hips, then his back lost that stiffness and he turned to her with an expression still frustrated, but calmer. “You're right. I'll call them now. And I have to call the rental company, too.”

Joslyn was surprised she hadn't had to do more than suggest it. Tomas would have said... But Clay wasn't Tomas, was he?

In that clothing store, the way he'd looked at her had made her feel...

She hadn't been attracted to a man in a long time. Her last relationship had been so disastrous that she had walled off her heart and her senses. But now it seemed she was changing, and she wasn't sure she wanted it that way. She still felt vulnerable after all she'd lost.

She closed her mind to that thought. She couldn't think about her losses, because then the pain would grip her again and it would take too much time and effort to make it let go.

Her eyes refocused on Clay, who was on the phone with a cab company. Fiona had spoken warmly, although a bit sadly, about her brother. She could see aspects of Fiona in Clay, their friendliness to others, their protectiveness. And like Fiona, Clay made Joslyn think differently about herself.

At the clothing store, he had made her feel feminine. She was used to being around men because of her major in software engineering, but even the women she met had been tomboyish like her.

But not Fiona. She'd tried to get Joslyn out of her shell, going out more, interacting with other people more.

Clay had pulled her even further out, shattering her habit of thinking of herself as “one of the guys.” He'd had difficulty in explaining why, but he'd wanted her to wear that dress. And she didn't understand why she'd listened to him.

After all, Tomas had done the same thing—bought her dresses, told her she was beautiful. Since that episode in her life, she'd retreated to her old fashion sense, which consisted of pants and shirts, practical garments that were similar to what the other engineers wore. So why had she listened to Clay about the sundress? Wasn't this a bad thing?

Luckily she'd brought her side flashbang gun holster with her on this trip, so she hadn't had to worry about a visible gun harness for her firearm. She'd only recently gotten her Concealed Carry Permit, since she started working for the O'Neill Agency.

Clay hung up. “The cab should be here in a few minutes. And the rental company said they'd file the police report since they have GPS tracking on the car.”

“Speaking of trackers, since we're dumping our clothes, maybe we should ditch our cell phones, too, in case they managed to put a tracker in them or clone them.”

“No, wait,” Clay said. “Let's keep our cell phones for a little while.”

“We should at least dismantle them so they can't trace the GPS—”

“No, keep them on. I have an idea.”

But before she could tell him, the cab arrived. It drove them to Fiona's company parking lot so she could pick up her car. When the cab had left, Joslyn asked, “What now?”

“Let's go to my hotel.”

“But the men after us will know you'll go back there.”

“It's what I'm hoping for,” Clay said.

She looked at him strangely. “Does this have to do with the cell phones?”

“Yup. Let's go.”

His hotel was close to Fiona's house, which was unfortunately halfway across town, so it took them the better part of an hour before they were finally pulling into the hotel parking lot. There were a couple police squad cars parked outside the front doors. Clay's shoulders were bunched as he saw them. Joslyn wondered if it was a throwback to his time working for that mob family. He certainly wouldn't have been happy to see the police back then.

However, as she drove past the squad cars, there was suddenly loud shouting. She instinctively hit the brakes.

Then they were surrounded by police officers. Joslyn glanced at Clay, but he had the same perplexed look. “What do we do?” she asked.

“Get out of the car, I guess.”

She turned off the engine and slowly got out of the car. Clay opened the passenger side door and cautiously stood up, his hands raised.

And instantly the officers were slamming him face-first against the side of the car and slapping handcuffs on him.

“What's going on?” Joslyn said. The officers weren't bothering with her.

“Clay Ashton, you're under arrest,” one officer said.

“For what?” he demanded.

“A hit-and-run accident. You put a kid in the hospital.”

FOUR

J
oslyn reined in her temper as she exited the police station. It wasn't the fault of the officer behind the reception desk that they couldn't give out any information about Clay, but she still felt like kicking something.

The Arizona heat was a slap in the face after the slightly sour smell of the police station waiting room, where she'd spent the better part of the last hour. She needed to regroup and figure out her next move, but she wouldn't be able to do it there.

The worst part was not knowing what the right course of action was. Everything about this situation was out of her hands—she couldn't find out what charges Clay was being held on, she didn't know anything about the two men who were after them and worst of all, Fiona was missing and they had no idea where she was or if she was even alive.

She shivered despite the heat. She had to believe Fiona was still alive.

Right now, she had to find out how to exonerate Clay. She remembered what Fiona had said about her brother, and now that she'd met him, Joslyn found it easy to trust him. She'd had to relearn how to trust people after she'd escaped from Tomas. Something about Clay was so open, so earnest. He had that sadness behind his eyes every so often, but it never seemed he was trying to hide anything.

Her cell phone rang, and she didn't recognize the number, but she answered. “This is Joslyn.”

“Oh, good, I did remember your phone number right.” Clay breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Clay! Are you calling from the police station?”

“Yeah, my one call. I gotta make this quick. Know any good lawyers?”

She could call her boss Elisabeth, who probably knew some good lawyers. Elisabeth seemed to have a million contacts. “Did you do it?” Joslyn asked.

“Not unless I was in two places at once. It happened at noon today, with my rental car. They got an ‘anonymous tip' about it. I tried to explain the car was stolen from the mall parking lot, but the detective didn't believe me.” His voice ended on a bitter note.

“That's not enough to hold you.”

“They can hold me for forty-eight hours without cause. I think they're suspicious because of my record and the explosion at Fiona's house.”

“We were the
victims
there.”

“You're preaching to the choir.”

“Okay, I'll figure out something.” She already had an idea, thanks to the training she'd gotten at the O'Neill Agency. “Sit tight, don't say anything.”

“I know the drill.” Clay paused, then said, “Be careful, okay? We know there're two guys after us, and if they're involved in this, then you're on your own. Watch your back. Stay in public places.”

“I know the drill,” Joslyn said soberly. As she hung up, she knew he was right. It wasn't good for her to be alone right now. She missed having him to guard her back.

She didn't want to rely on Clay—on anyone, really—but it was strange that she'd come to depend on him in only the few hours she'd known him. His quick reflexes and protective instinct had already saved her from that bomb, and his friendly nature had enabled them to get some information from Ruby and Rufus at the art museum. Elisabeth always told Joslyn that her questioning sounded more like a police interrogation.

Realizing how much she might need his help made her feel vulnerable. Which was silly. She was vulnerable to those two thugs who were after them, not to Clay.

Well, she was no longer that timid, shy girl dependent on a big, brawny boyfriend—Tomas had cured her of that. The O'Neill Agency had taught her lots of skills, including how to stay safe.

And how to prove her whereabouts. Or in this case, Clay's whereabouts at noon.

First, she gave her bosses a call, but got their voice mail. She left a message explaining the situation, and asked for a recommendation for a lawyer here in Arizona.

She got in her rental car and drove back to the mall. Retracing their steps, she checked the store fronts for cameras, but found none. So she went into the men's clothing store they'd entered first and asked to speak to the manager.

While she was waiting, she tried to relax her face and body. It wouldn't do her any good to look as tense and stressed as she felt.

The manager approached, a bored-looking man in his forties with dark hair and swarthy skin. His nameplate read Edgar.

“Mr. Edgar—”

“Just Edgar,” he said. “How can I help you, miss?”

“I'm Joslyn Dimalanta, with the O'Neill Agency.” She handed him her business card. “I'm hoping you can help me out.”

He flicked a glance at her card, but said nothing.

“I came in here with my friend about two hours ago. He bought some clothes. But the police are insisting he was across town in a hit-and-run accident at the exact same time.”

“Look, I'm sorry for your friend, but what does that have to do with me?”

“Would you be able to call the police and show them your store video feed?” Joslyn pointed to the discreet camera, which covered the cashiers at the front of the store. “It can prove my friend was here and not at the accident scene.”

Edgar sighed and rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. I'll call them tonight after the store closes.”

“You couldn't do it now? He's at the police station—”

“He's not going anywhere, and I'm busy right now.” He nodded to the cashiers, who were all busy with customers. “It'll have to be later, okay?” He suddenly remembered he was talking to a customer and added, “I'm sorry. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Hold still so I can bop you in the nose.
She forced a smile. “No.”

He walked away. He hadn't even asked the name of her friend in jail.

As she exited the store, her jaw hurting from her gritted teeth, Joslyn reflected that maybe the time stamp on the store wouldn't even be close to the time of the accident. After all, they'd hit this store first, after parking the car.

She went to the women's clothing store, but the manager had stepped out for a few minutes, so Joslyn said she'd be back later. Then she made her way to the shoe store.

She asked to see the manager, and while she was waiting, she tried to figure out what she could say so that it wouldn't be a repeat of her experience with Edgar.
Lord, please just tell me what I should do to fix this.

The manager was a woman with short, dark hair that framed her pixie face, but her walk was straight and confident. She held out her hand and gave a friendly smile. “Jody Mills. How can I help you?”

Joslyn squeezed her hand a little harder than necessary. “I'm sorry to bother you like this, but I need your help.”

Jody's eyebrows rose. “My help?”

“I'm Joslyn Dimalanta, and I work for the O'Neill Agency.” She handed Jody her business card. “I'm in the area with a friend, Clay Ashton, searching for his sister. We're very worried about her.”

“You think she was here?” Jody looked around her store.

“No, but we were here earlier today because we needed a change of shoes.” Joslyn shrugged. “It's a long story. Anyway, at the same time, our rental car was stolen and used in a hit-and-run, and Clay is in jail because the police think he did it.” Joslyn nodded to the security cameras. “Do you think I could look at your store video feed? It might show Clay and me here around the same time as the accident, which would prove he couldn't have been involved.”

Jody's shoulders straightened. “Of course. That should be easy enough.” She led the way to her office on the far corner of the store, a nondescript door with just a small sign that said Employees Only. They walked down a short, narrow hallway, passing a staff break room on the right, then to an unmarked door.

Inside, a man with a round face, gray-brown beard and merry eyes looked up from where he sat in front of several video monitors. “Yeah, boss?” He had a slight Southern accent.

“Hey, Benny,” Jody said. “We need to see some video from earlier today, around...?” She looked at Joslyn.

“Around noon,” Joslyn said.

“I'll pull up from eleven o'clock on.” Benny fiddled with the security video computer, punching in commands at the keyboard, then nodded toward a monitor and chair at the desk behind him. “Coming up right over there.”

“Thanks, Benny.” Jody sat at the chair and Joslyn stood to one side.

The screen was split into the four video cameras in the store. Jody moved the mouse at the computer and the feed went into fast forward. Joslyn kept her eye on the video that showed the front door, and as soon as she saw herself and Clay enter, she said, “Stop, there we are.”

Jody squinted at the video. “Yup, there you are.”

They watched the videos as it showed them shopping for shoes and finally paying for them. The timestamp showed them entering the store at 11:37 and leaving at 11:55 pm.

Joslyn sighed and passed her hand over her eyes. Even if Edgar had let her see the video, it would have been the wrong timestamp to prove Clay hadn't been involved in the accident.
Thank You, Lord.

“Your friend's being held by the police right now?” Jody asked.

Joslyn nodded. “Would you mind calling the police to come look at this? It'll prove Clay couldn't have been in the hit-and-run.”

“No problem.” Jody used the phone sitting on the desk next to the computer. “Mall security will call the police and escort them here.”

“Thank you so much for doing this for me. I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“You poor thing. You must be so stressed and worried.”

“What's worse is that the more we're delayed, the further behind we are in our search for Clay's sister.”

“When did she disappear?”

“About three weeks ago. Fiona Crowley?”

Jody shook her head. “Sorry, don't know her.” She nodded to the frozen shot of Clay at the cash register and flashed Joslyn a grin. “He's a cutie, though. Just a client?”

Joslyn felt her face burst into flame. “Um...yeah.”

Jody laughed. “What do you do for the O'Neill Agency?”

They chatted about Joslyn's work until a police officer, accompanied by a mall security guard, knocked on the door to the security room.

“Hey, Jody,” said the mall security guard, “this is Officer Winchester. He's a buddy of mine.”

“Nice to meet you.” Officer Winchester had a deep voice and a self-assured air about him. He shook Jody's hand.

“Thanks for coming,” Jody said. “This is Joslyn Dimalanta.”

His large hand engulfed Joslyn's, and his grip was strong.

“So what's this about?” Officer Winchester asked.

“I have a friend in police custody right now,” Joslyn said. “The detectives say that his rental car was involved in a hit-and-run accident at noon today, and they won't believe that he was here with me, because he spent some time in jail.”

Officer Winchester's face was impassive.

Joslyn pointed to the video. “This is video feed from Jody's store that proves he was here at the same time as the accident. I'm hoping we can turn it over to you and you can give it to the detectives in charge of Clay's case.”

Officer Winchester gave a firm nod. “I can do that. Could I see the video?”

They played it for him, fast-forwarding through the entire eighteen minutes that they were in the store.

“I'll take the video in,” the officer said. “Jody, I'll need the originals.”

“Could I get a copy first?” Joslyn asked. “Clay's lawyer is going to want to see it.”

While waiting for Benny to make a copy for her, she said to Jody, “Thanks again. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been so helpful.”

“Aw, sweetie, I could tell you were really worried. Of course I'd help. Besides, it was no skin off my back.”

“Thank you for doing this for me. For Clay,” Joslyn said to Officer Winchester.

His dark eyes were inscrutable, but he nodded. “I'll take this to the station, but I'm afraid I can't do anything else for your friend's case.”

She knew he couldn't make her any promises, but she hoped he'd at least do what he said. She was waiting to hear from Liam O'Neill about that lawyer for Clay, and hopefully she could fix this entire frustrating situation.

As she was leaving the store she felt it. That shiver across the back of her shoulders, that suspicion that she was being watched.

She had felt it often a few months ago, when she was on the run from Tomas, who had murdered her father. Most of the time, that feeling had been false, because if someone had been following her, Tomas would have found her a lot sooner than he had. She'd been paranoid and jumpy, exhausted by grief over her dead father and dead...

Her hand automatically went to her stomach and tightened there for a moment. Her counselor said she was making progress, but it still hurt like a physical pain.

Her shoulders tingled again. Was this the same thing, paranoia because of all the stress of the morning? It wasn't every day she was almost killed by a bomb. She knew she had compartmentalized it—her counselor would use the term
coping mechanism
—but she'd have to come to terms with it.

Later. Not right now.

“Hello, sweetheart.” She didn't recognize the gravelly voice, but she recognized the man's face from the glimpses of him in the passenger seat of the car that had been following them this morning—his curly dark hair and sunglasses. He stood in front of her, blocking her way.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!
If she'd been paying attention instead of taking a mental coffee break, she wouldn't have been surprised by him.

By
them
. The second man stood just behind his left shoulder.

Maybe she should have paid attention to the feeling she was being hunted.

She reacted quickly, instinctively. She shoved hard at the man and sent out a high-pitched scream. “Get away from me! Help! Officer Winchester!”