Brett Battles - Every Precious Thing

“Mrs. Bobick is on the other line at the moment. I could have her call you back.”

“No. I’ll hold.”

“She may be on for a while, so I think it might be-”

“Tell her I’m on the line,” Logan said, cutting him off.

A hesitation, then, “One moment.”

Hold music replaced the assistant’s voice. The wait was short.

“This is Ruth Bobick. Mr. Shaw ?”

“Yes,” Logan said, not disguising his voice. “Thank you for taking my call.”

In the pause that followed, Logan knew she’d realized who he was. “Actually, Mr. Shaw, I will have to call you back.”

“I see. Well, as soon as possible would be appreciated. I’m not at my normal number.” He gave her the number of his temporary phone.

“Got it,” she said. “Thank you.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply before hanging up.

Eight minutes later, she called back. By the noise in the background, he knew she’d gone outside.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t use my office line,” she said.

“Sorry. I don’t have my phone at the moment, and the main number was the only one I knew from memory.”

She sighed. “I’m going to regret calling you back, aren’t I?”

He smiled. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but the help you gave me last time worked out pretty well for you.”

Ruth had been able to use her early knowledge of what Logan had uncovered during his rescue of Elyse to bolster her position at Forbus. The information was responsible for her promotion.

“I swear to God if you hold that over my head, I will never answer the phone again.”

“Yes, you will.”

“I’m not going to fool myself into thinking this is a social call. So why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“I need you to see if you can get locations on two cell phones.” From memory, he gave her the number to Diana’s Blackberry, and the only number from the recent-calls list on her disposable cell. “If you can tell me where they are in relation to the number I’m calling from, that would be great.”

“And why would I want to do this?” she asked.

“Because someone’s in trouble, and I’m trying to help them.”

“This is getting to be a habit. What happened to fixing cars?”

“Can you help?” he asked, ignoring her question.

She took a moment before responding. “Let me see what I can do.”

Logan was about to say good-bye, but he had another thought. “Can we make that three phones?”

“Sure, why not? What’s one more?” she said sarcastically. “What’s the number?”

“You have it already. It’s my cell.”

“I’m not running a lost and found service.”

“That’s not why I asked. I’d just like to know where the person who has it is.”

“Fine,” she said, then, “Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you making some sort of career change?”

“No.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Helping someone who asked.”

Erica woke still annoyed by the previous evening. She hated when things did not go as planned. She did everything she could to keep surprises out of her life. The work she did, the way she ran her business, even her personal decisions-they were all thought out and planned to avoid problems. Until everything returned to that norm, her frustration would continue to burn inside her.

She showered, dressed, and left, not even glancing in the direction of the room Clausen and Markle had been using. They’d be long gone by now, and hopefully reporting in with some helpful news soon.

Once she was behind the wheel of the gray sedan, she opened the specialized tracking app on her phone and touched the number tied to the GPS device she’d attached to the El Camino.

“So, Mr. Harper, did you make it back?” she said as she waited for the link to be established. “Or are you still wandering around the forest?”

A dot started glowing in the middle of an otherwise blank screen. After a few more seconds, a map appeared beneath it.

The El Camino was still in Flagstaff, but it was not in the same place it had been.

“You made it back,” she said, impressed.

She watched the dot for a moment, making sure it was stationary, then switched to her email and checked to see if she had received the other information she’d requested before she went to sleep.

There was a single message with three attachments.

Dr. Paskota,

The vehicle you provided the license number for is indeed registered to a male by the name of Logan Harper. Attached are the DMV sheet, tax info summary sheet, and military record. Please let me know if you wish further info on Mr. Harper. As of yet, I have no information on Mr. Martin, but will forward to you as soon as I do.

B.L.

Military history? That could explain a lot. She opened that file first.

Harper’s involvement with the military turned out to be more than just having served in the army. Once honorably discharged, he went to college then got a job with Forbus International, one of the giant US defense contractors. His job there was training private security forces-soldiers for hire. After an incident in Afghanistan that took the life of one of his colleagues, he’d been let go. Erica would have liked to know why, but that information was not provided.

She looked at the other two documents and noted that Harper lived on the central coast of California, and worked as a-

“That can’t be right,” she muttered.

But it didn’t appear to be a typo. Harper was an auto mechanic. She’d expected something in law enforcement, even private investigator, not some grease monkey who specialized in changing oil.

So why are you even here, Mr. Harper?

Whatever that reason was, the answer wasn’t in the information in front of her.

She brought the map back up and saw that Harper’s car was on the move. She watched the dot until it merged onto the interstate heading west.

“And where are we going this morning?”

Shifting into reverse, she pulled out of her parking spot and headed for the freeway.

Fifteen minutes after she hit the interstate, Clausen called.

“You’re going to find this interesting.”

“What’s that?” Erica asked.

“The guy who got beat up was just released from the hospital.”

“Were you able to talk to him?”

“Not yet. But that’s not the interesting part.”

Erica frowned. She didn’t like games. “Then what is?”

“One of the two men who picked him up is named Neal Harper.”

Her mind flashed onto Harper’s military history. His next of kin-wasn’t it a Neal Harper? Yes, it was.

“Did you hear me?” Clausen asked.

“Sorry. I did. Older? Younger?”

“Older, definitely. I’d say seventysomething.”

Logan Harper’s dad?

“So how would you like us to proceed?” Clausen asked.

Erica thought for a moment, then smiled, and told him exactly what she wanted them to do.

Logan and Dev reached theWilliams turnoff just before nine thirty a.m. They followed Diana’s instructions and headed north on State Route 64. Logan had been hoping to hear back from Ruth by now, but she hadn’t called.

Around the twenty-minute mark, Dev started glancing at the odometer. Finally he said, “That’s twenty-eight miles.”

Logan focused on the edge of the road, looking for the white X, but there was only a solid white line, three feet from where the asphalt ended.

“Twenty-nine,” Dev said, slowing some more.

Still nothing.

“Twenty-nine and a half.”

White line.

“Twenty-nine point seven…point eight…point nine…and here comes-”