After She's Gone (West Coast #3)

After She's Gone (West Coast #3) Page 112

Her heart wrenched. Having Trent with her would be a helluva lot more comforting and probably safer, though she wasn’t really worried about her safety. She could handle a self-serving sleaze like McNary and Orson’s was a well-lit, popular bar in Portland; she’d be okay.

After hitting the send button, she turned back, collected her purse, keys, and jacket, then headed through the front door and into the wet Oregon night. She hoped Trent was already asleep, that he hadn’t heard the dog’s soft woof as she’d grabbed her things, nor caught the noise of the latch clicking as she’d quietly pulled the front door shut behind her.

What are you doing?

Are you crazy?

That nagging voice whispered to her as she clicked on the flashlight app on her cell phone, its bluish beam illuminating the wet grass, weeds, and puddles. Moving quickly, head ducked against the rain, she picked her way along the path to the gravel parking area near the garage. A security lamp mounted on a pole near the barn gave off an ethereal light, creating the illusion that the barn, silo, and garage’s shadowed facades loomed larger around the graveled parking area.

“Don’t be a fool,” she whispered as she reached her car and slipped noiselessly behind the wheel. Before she had time to second-guess herself, she cranked on the ignition and looked up at the house to the second story and Trent’s dark window. The shifting light of a television backlit a figure standing near the glass.

Cassie’s heart lurched. Her head began to pound. She blinked, felt the blackness calling to her, beckoning, but she fought it. Her hands, despite the cold were suddenly sweaty against the wheel.

“No!” she said aloud. “Not now!”

She couldn’t afford to lose time tonight, to have hours unaccounted for. As her headache began to thunder, she set her jaw and thought about Trent, how she’d deceived him.

She’d text him the second she was in Portland, but for now, she hit the gas and took off, turning on her headlights and wipers and telling herself that it didn’t matter what Trent thought, she didn’t have to answer to him, she could do anything she damned well pleased.

She gritted her teeth against the pain of the headache, possibly brought on by her deception. Of course she hadn’t outwardly lied to him, but by not going upstairs and telling him what she was going to do, she’d kind of misled him. Omission rather than admission.

But this could be her best chance of ever finding her sister.

Then again it could be a big waste of time.

She’d find out soon enough.

CHAPTER 24

Trent swore under his breath as he watched the disappearing taillights of Cassie’s Honda. He’d hoped she would come up to bed. He’d hoped they’d make love. He’d hoped she’d spend the rest of the night and maybe her life with him.

But, of course, that had been too much to expect.

Snagging his keys off his dresser, he charged down the stairs when he heard a beep from his cell phone indicating a text had come through. Cassie?

His jaw tight, he glanced at the phone’s tiny screen and frowned. The message was a brief note from Carter:

Checked with L Sparks of the OSP. Larry Sparks was a lieutenant with the Oregon State Police. While at Jenna’s house Trent had filled Carter in about the search for the 2007 Hyundai Santa Fe. Luckily, Carter hadn’t balked at the source of the information, and had later confirmed that Sparks had promised to do some checking with the stipulation that Detective Nash of the Portland Police Department be kept in the loop. Neither Trent nor Carter had any problem with making certain the Portland PD was informed. Trent figured the more cops who were searching for Allie Kramer, the better.

Carter’s text continued:

9 vehicles: 07 Hyundai Santa Fe, Arctic white, beige interior etc. in the tri-county area. No plates with bucking horses.

No surprise there. Nine vehicles was a start, though the tri-counties didn’t include outlying counties in Southern Washington and out here, east of the Portland metropolitan area. Trent walked to the kitchen and found the dog on his heels. “Not this time, boy,” he said as he snatched his hat and jacket from a peg near the back door. “You hold down the fort.” After cramming his hat onto his head, he slipped his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and turned up his collar. Rain peppered the ground and the wind tore down the gorge as he jogged to his truck. Once inside, he switched on the ignition and dialed Cassie’s cell.