After She's Gone (West Coast #3)

After She's Gone (West Coast #3) Page 91

“Give ’em a ticket.”

“I wish.”

With a final grin cast in her direction Double T peeled off in search of his own vehicle.

Nash couldn’t open her damned door, so she made her way back to the rear of her Focus, opened the cargo door, and cursing every moronic driver on the planet, crawled over the backseat, then into the driver’s side. Worrying that her mirrors might scrape the sides of the encroaching vehicles, she hesitated before firing the engine. Then she thought, too damned bad. If she scraped the nearby rigs, too bad. She eased her way out of the space, took a deep breath, and started down the ramp leading to the street. She planned to pick up something to eat at a local Thai food cart, then head to the airport and hopefully make her flight. With the traffic and the rain, she didn’t have a lot of time. She couldn’t even run by her house on the east side, but thankfully she always kept an overnight bag filled with the essentials, including a toothbrush and change of clothes, in her Ford.

Just in case she ever got lucky.

So far, at least in recent memory, she had not.

CHAPTER 20

They pulled into a truck stop near Redding to fill up on gas and food. Inside the long, flat-roofed restaurant, they sat on opposite sides of a booth next to a plate glass window. The view was of the freeway, headlights and taillights streaking past, illuminating the night. A few other customers were scattered under the unforgiving overhead lights as a fiftysomething waitress with a forced smile and tired eyes took their orders, then disappeared through swinging doors.

“You okay?” Trent asked. His voice actually had a tender quality to it.

“Fine.” That, of course, was a lie. She wondered if she’d ever be “fine” again. She tried to find a smile and gave up, lifting a shoulder and whispering, “I guess I’m as fine as I can be, all things considered.”

His eyes, a shade of brown that was almost gold, seemed understanding, even kind, so she glanced away quickly and was thankful when their drinks arrived.

Thinking a jolt of caffeine might help her stay awake, Cassie had ordered a Coke. Trent settled in with his beer and ignoring the frosted glass that was left for him, took a long pull from the bottle.

“I’ll drive for a while,” he offered, and she nodded. The silence that had been fairly companionable in the car was now awkward and she was grateful when his cheeseburger and her club sandwich arrived. They concentrated on their meals for a few minutes before she decided to be proactive. “Did Allie’s mood change?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, just before she disappeared?”

His eyes found hers and his gaze wasn’t friendly. “How would I know? Did you even hear what I told you before? We were not involved. I have no idea what was going on in her mind.” He took another long drink, then said, “You just don’t give up.”

“Not when it’s about my sister.”

“Or a story,” he added, reaching for his beer.

That momentarily stopped her. “You looked through my work? My computer?”

“No computer. I didn’t see one.” That was right, she remembered, she’d had her laptop with her earlier today. “But you did leave some notes lying around. I read them.”

Okay, so he knew about her plans to write a screenplay about Allie. So what? Everyone would know soon enough, including, she hoped, Allie herself, once she was found. A tiny doubt skidded through her mind, a worry about her sister’s whereabouts and the possibility Allie might never be found, but she pushed it aside. She picked at her sandwich and persevered. “So, did you know any reason Allie might have gone to Santa Fe? Does she know someone there, maybe a plastic surgeon? Probably around 2007?” The problem was the numbers didn’t add up. In 2007, Allie had still been in Falls Crossing....

Trent just stared at her, then with a shake of his head took another bite from his cheeseburger. “I don’t know.”

“It’s just that I got this weird message from Portland. Actually the phone number is my psychiatrist’s cell, but I don’t think she sent it.” She scrounged in her purse, withdrew her phone, and scrolled down to the cryptic text she’d received before sliding her iPhone across the table. He glanced at the display.