Brett Battles - Every Precious Thing

She thought maybe something had gotten stuck beneath the car, vibrated against the undercarriage, and finally fallen free.

But then there were two more, both the buzzes and the gaps between shorter this time.

She pulled to the side of State Route 64, climbed out of the car, and checked to see if she could find the source.

Her first instinct had been right. It had been wedged beneath her seat. A cell phone.

Harper’s or Martin’s .

She tried to activate the display but the cell was password protected. Not a big deal. There were ways of getting around that if need be.

She opened the back door. On the floor were the other phone and the men’s wallets and keys. She grabbed the second cell and put both of them on the front passenger seat. If they rang again, she wanted to see who was calling. That might come in handy.

She decided to check the tracking device before she pulled back onto the road, and was glad she did. Harper’s car was stopped about seven miles ahead. She watched it, waiting to see if it moved again, but it didn’t.

Ever since they’d turned off the interstate, Erica had known she’d made the right choice to follow them. If last night’s events had scared off Harper and his friend, they would still be on I-40, heading back to California. But a detour toward the Grand Canyon, the park where Diana had once worked? To her, that had to mean they were still on Sara’s trail.

She checked the monitor again. Harper’s car had not moved. Were they waiting for something? Perhaps Sara herself? There was no way she’d learn that from the device in her hand. She needed to see with her own eyes.

She pulled back onto the road, nearly cutting off a camper. The other driver laid on his horn and shouted silently at her through the window, but he disappeared as Erica sped away.

Every few seconds, she would glance at the monitor. When the dot was only a mile and a half away, she gazed ahead, trying to pick out the El Camino in the distance. But though the view was clear, there were enough dips and turns in the road to make it impossible to see the other vehicle. The terrain caused another problem, too. Once she was close enough to see the truck, she wouldn’t be able to pull over without the men noticing. Hell, just driving by would be taking a chance, but that was one thing she couldn’t avoid. She needed to know what was going on.

She sped up so that she was tucked in close to the car in front of her. Hopefully that would provide the shield she needed.

It wasn’t until she was half a mile away that the El Camino finally came into view, its blue exterior standing out in sharp contrast to the browns and tans and greens of the plain.

She hunched down in an effort to change her profile but it was unnecessary. Harper and Martin were sitting in the cab of the truck, talking.

And they were alone.

Damn . She’d been hoping the girl was with them. She could have then simply neutralized the situation, and walked away with the woman. Even if it had been Diana and not Sara, it would have been worth the risk.

What the hell are they doing?

She kept going for two miles, then turned down a dirt road and stopped. She grabbed her phone and called Clausen.

“Update?” she asked.

“We’re on our way.”

Good. “How far are you from Williams?”

“About an hour and a half away.”

“Cut it to an hour, but call me before you get there and I’ll tell you exactly where to go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Were you able to learn anything new?”

“He’s definitely the guy’s father.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Get anything else out of him?”

“No,” Clausen said, his voice lowering to a whisper. “He’s not being very cooperative. I could try something…more aggressive.”

Erica considered the idea. “No. Not yet.” She paused before adding, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t make the threat.”

She hung up, switched to the monitoring screen, and waited for the dot to move again.

Harp had never had a gun pointed at him in his life, at least not until he reached the bottom of the staircase at the Desert Inn Motel.

“You open your mouth even to breathe and I pull the trigger. Understand?”

The man standing in front of Harp was the same one he’d talked to in the hospital cafeteria just a little while earlier. Harp nodded.

“Good. We’re going to walk to my car and go for a ride. You first.”

Harp remained riveted to the bottom step. “I’m not getting in your-”

“I said, don’t open your mouth. That’s your only warning. Let’s go.”

Harp knew he had no choice. Even if he’d been younger, he’d have been no match for the man. Unlike his son, Harp had never had any military training, and the only real fight he’d ever been in was in fifth grade. That had ended quickly with him on the ground and Donald Yeager standing over him, laughing.

The car turned out to be a dark blue sedan. A second man was sitting behind the wheel, his face blank as Harp climbed reluctantly into the backseat. The gunman followed and shut the door.

“Let me see that,” the man said.

He reached out and grabbed the copy of Lost Horizon from Harp’s hands.

“No!” Harp said, trying to get it back.

The man frowned at him. “Sit back.”

As their car pulled away, he leafed through the book and then tossed it on the floor.

“Please, can I just hold it?” Harp asked.

“So you can try to hit me with it later? I don’t think so.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Shut up.”

No one said anything else as they drove through town before getting on the interstate heading east.

The silence continued until they reached Arizona, when the gunman looked over and said, “So, Mr. Harper, perhaps you should tell us what you were doing in Braden.”

Harp’s initial fear had ebbed. Now he felt a surge of anger. “This is kidnapping,” he said. “And across state lines. Do you realize what kind of trouble you two are in?”

“Seems to me you’re the only one in trouble here.” The man adjusted his hand holding the gun. “What were you doing in Braden?”

“None of your business.”

“What about Logan?”

“Logan? You leave him alone!”

The man paused. “Why did your…son leave town?”

“He had to take care of some business.”

The man smiled as if Harp had just told him something important. “Why is he interested in Diana Stockley?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of her.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” Harp replied.

“What were you doing in Braden?”

Harp repeated his previous statement, and kept repeating it with each successive question, no matter what it was. How long this went on, Harp had no idea, but it seemed like forever. Finally the gunman told the driver to pull over.

They took an exit that led to a deserted road in the middle of nowhere, and stopped along the side.

“Watch him,” the gunman said. He got out of the car and raised a phone to his ear.

The driver turned so he could see into the backseat. He grinned as he reached under his jacket and pulled out a gun, aiming it at Harp.

It was overkill as far as Harp was concerned. As much as he would have liked to run, there was nowhere for him to go. And that was if he was able to run. He was almost eighty, for God’s sake. The best he could manage was a medium-paced walk. The others wouldn’t even break a sweat catching him.

He glanced at the floor. Could he at least chance grabbing Tom’s book? He wanted to more than anything, but he doubted the driver would be too receptive if he tried.