Every Precious Thing

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Logan recruited Barney to drive him to Dev’s location. Harp, not wanting to be left out, came along for the ride. Whatever spat they’d had over Len’s envelope seemed to have been forgotten. On the way, they picked up a burger and a drink for Dev, then parked a few blocks from the El Camino.

“Don’t forget to call us if you need any help,” Harp said as his son got out. “And…the envelope?”

“Next time you see me, I’ll give it to you. I promise,” Logan told him. He looked at Barney. “Park behind our motel. If you guys need to go out again, walk or wait until we get back. Don’t take the Jeep.” He had told them on the way over about being followed, so they all understood the car was marked.

“Be careful,” Barney said.

Logan watched them drive off and then walked through the quiet neighborhood until he reached the street where Dev was parked. Beyond the El Camino he could see the motel the others were apparently using. Other than a family trying to cool off in the pool, the place looked almost deserted. Satisfied no one was casting any attention in his direction, Logan approached his truck and got in the passenger side.

“Here,” he said, handing over the bag and setting the drink caddy on the seat between them. “Anything new?”

Dev shook his head. “They’ve been inside since I called.”

“Which room?”

“Second floor, third from the left. Number twenty-seven.”

Counting the doors, Logan found the room, but there was no way he could read the number mounted outside.

“You have binoculars or something?” he asked.

“Took a little walk,” Dev said, chewing his burger. “The car’s parked right below it.” He handed a piece of paper to Logan. “That’s the license number, but it won’t get us much. It’s a rental.”

“Have you seen anyone else with them? Another woman, maybe?”

“Nope. Just the couple we already saw.”

Logan was working under the theory that these people were either friends of or working for Diana. He’d been hoping Dev had spotted her and solidified the connection.

His phone vibrated on the seat where he’d set it. The display read BLOCKED.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Logan?” It was Callie.

“Hey. I was beginning to worry something happened to you.”

“Sorry, flew back down this morning, then got pulled into some meetings at the office. I did get your message, though.”

“What about the email I sent a little while ago?”

“Email?” she said. “Haven’t seen it yet. What was in it?”

“I found Diana’s Social Security and driver’s license numbers.”

“Great,” she said, excited. “That’ll help a lot.”

“Logan,” Dev said, pointing through the windshield.

“Hold on, Callie.”

Across the street, two people had just exited room twenty-seven.

“That’s them?” Logan asked Dev.

“Yeah.”

They watched the woman and the man walk along the breezeway and disappear inside an enclosed staircase. A few moments later they reappeared downstairs and walked over to the sedan.

“What do you want to do?” Dev asked.

Logan brought the phone back up to his ear. “Callie, I apologize, but I have to call you back.”

“No problem,” she said. “I’m here.”

“Thanks.” He hung up.

Across the street, the sedan’s taillights flared on.

Logan grabbed some napkins out of the hamburger bag and reached for the door. “Follow them. If they start heading back this way, call me.”

“What are you going to do?”

Logan pushed open the door. “A little recon.”

A block down from the motel, next to the interstate, was a combination gas station/mini-market. Logan made that his first stop. He went rapidly up and down the aisles looking initially for paperclips, but settling in the end for a plastic box of various-sized safety pins. He then circled around the back of the motel to avoid the office, and took the stairs at the far end up to the second floor.

When he reached number twenty-seven, he turned his head and held his ear near the door, listening in case someone had stayed behind. All was quiet.

Just to be doubly sure, he rapped on the jamb.

“Housekeeping,” he said.

Silence-no squeaks from beds or feet walking across the room.

He retrieved the package of safety pins, selected two of the largest, then bent them all the way open, creating spears-or tools, in this case-to pick the lock. They were far from the best, but the lock was a cheap one, and within thirty seconds it willingly gave way.

Inside the room, the air had the undisturbed stillness that confirmed he was the only one present. Though dim, there was enough sunlight seeping in from around the curtain for him to see. Along one wall were two queen-size beds separated by a nightstand, and against the opposite, a dresser with a TV on top. At the back of the room was a closet, and next to it a nook that went further back to a countertop with a sink. Though he couldn’t see it from where he stood, he knew there would be a door near it to the toilet and shower.

He checked the dresser first. On top were a few brochures laid out neatly next to the TV. Tourist stuff, probably left there by the Chamber of Commerce, hoping to entice guests to spend more than just the night. Quietly, he slid open the drawers one by one, but all were empty.

The nightstand was next, but it, too, revealed nothing that hadn’t been there before the current occupants had checked in. Moving into the sink area, he found that the soap had been unwrapped, but there were no toothbrushes or shaving kits or anything like that.

The door to the toilet and shower room was open. A used towel on the floor, but that was it.

The closet was the only place left, so he pulled it open. Inside was a single suitcase. He’d expected to find two bags at the very least, one for the woman and one for the man, but this was it.

Using another napkin, he laid the suitcase on its side, unzipped it, and lifted up the top. It was the woman’s bag-blouses, skirts, pants, underwear, bras. The clothes were precisely folded and stacked as if they were on display at Macy’s. Without removing anything, he slipped his hand under the garments and slid it around, checking for anything hidden underneath.

While there was nothing along the bottom, he did find a black makeup bag tucked against the far side. Looking inside it, he could see lipstick, eyeliner, and several other items that were similar to those his ex-wife used to have. As he closed the makeup bag, his thumb brushed against something stitched on the side. Though he could feel it, in the semi-darkness of the room, he couldn’t see anything.

He carried the bag into the toilet area and flipped on the light. Initials, sewn on with black thread. No wonder he couldn’t see them. They blended in perfectly with the bag itself.

E. P.

Two possibilities, he thought. Either they were the woman’s initials, or the initials of the bag’s particular brand. He couldn’t think of a brand that fit, but he wasn’t well-versed in women’s wear or cosmetics, so it was very possible he was just unfamiliar with it.

He put the makeup bag back exactly where he’d found it, closed the suitcase, and returned it to the closet. With everything as it was, he scanned the room, making sure he hadn’t missed anything.

He checked in with Dev. “Where are they?”

“A restaurant two miles from the motel. Been inside five minutes. Figure they’ll be here at least an hour.”

Good. “You didn’t happen to see if either of-”

A knock on the door froze Logan where he stood. As soon as it stopped, a male voice called out, “Dr. Paskota. Thought you said you were going out.”

“Logan?” Dev said.

“Someone’s at the door,” Logan whispered as loudly as he dared.

“I’m on my way.”

As Logan hung up, there was another knock.

“Dr. Paskota, are you in there?”

A second man said, “You sure you heard her?”

“Thought I heard someone,” the first replied.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“Dr. Paskota? Mr. Frisk?” the first voice said. Another knock. “I swear I wasn’t hearing things.”

“This place is a dump. It was probably just a TV in another room turned up too high.”

Silence.

“I think we should check,” the first man said.