Brett Battles - Every Precious Thing

The door to the office opened and Mary reentered. She set a gray, nine-by-twelve-inch envelope on Fulkerson’s desk, and retreated without saying a word.

“Your copy of the report,” Fulkerson said, nodding to the envelope.

Logan grabbed it and pulled out the sheaf of about two dozen pages, stapled together in the upper corner. The top sheet was an assignment report, detailing the information Callie had given FNR. Logan flipped to the next page.

“Are you going to read that now?” Fulkerson asked. “Mrs. Johnson’s firm isn’t my only client. I do have other things that need my attention.”

Logan was tempted to meticulously go over every page, but the only thing that would accomplish was pissing off Fulkerson again. As satisfying as that might be, it would only make things more difficult. He did a quick thumb-through of the pages, stopping only on the summary of potential leads near the back.

“Did you follow up on any of these?” he asked.

“Any of what?”

Logan turned the report around and pointed at the list of five items. Three were derived from information they’d gathered from Alan, no more than offhand comments or feelings-Sara’s desire to go to San Francisco, her interest in art, and something she’d said once about the Midwest that made Alan think she’d spent considerable time there at some point. The other two were based on mobile phone records, calls Sara had made to Alan that were pinpointed to cell towers nowhere near Riverside. One was in the Laguna Beach area, while the other was at the far side of the state, in Braden near the border with Arizona. A follow-up conversation with Alan revealed he had no knowledge of these trips.

Fulkerson leaned forward so he could read the summary better. “Yes, of course we did. We had people looking out for her in San Francisco, but at the time the investigation was called off, we’d had no sign of her. As for her interest in art, I’m sure you can imagine how ambiguous that is. Short of putting someone in all the museums and art galleries on the West Coast, there was little we could do on that front. And a similar thing can be said about the potential Midwest connection.”

Logan had figured as much about all three. He was more interested in the phone calls. “And these?”

Fulkerson nodded. “We sent investigators to both places. Out of the two, Laguna seemed the most promising. There’s a thriving art community there, so it also checks that box.”

“And?”

“And we found nothing at either place.”

“How long were your investigators there?”

“Long enough.”

“How long?”

“A day at Laguna. A couple of hours at Braden.”

“Why only a couple hours?”

“It’s a small town, and chances were she was just passing through on the interstate, perhaps stopped to get some gas.”

“On her way to where?”

“That, we have no way of knowing. If she hadn’t made that call, we wouldn’t have even known she’d gone out that way.”

“Doesn’t seem to me like enough time spent in either place.”

Logan could sense Fulkerson trying not to glare at him. “You’ll have to take that up with Mrs. Johnson.”

“Why is that?”

“We recalled our people because she decided to put the investigation on hold.”

Emily again, Logan realized. Either Callie or Alan had begun to worry that the more Fulkerson and his team looked into things, the more likely word would get to the wrong people that the adoption wasn’t legitimate.

He glanced through the rest of the report, but didn’t see anything that needed clarification at the moment, so he smiled and stood up. “Thank you for your time. I’ll call you if I need anything else.”

The look on Fulkerson’s face was not what Logan would call excited.

Logan found a Starbucks, grabbed a cup of coffee, took the only empty table left, and then carefully went through Fulkerson’s detailed report. By the time he was done, his barely touched coffee was lukewarm.

While the notes on the investigation filled out a few things he was hazy on, it had provided no new information. What it did do was make Logan think more about the out-of-character phone calls Sara had placed from Laguna Beach and Braden. They were the only halfway decent leads. But were either of them important?

The only way to know for sure was to check both places, and given the distance between them, it would go a lot faster if he had help. While Harp and Barney might be able to assist Logan wherever he went, he was not about to send them off on their own.

He considered his options, then pulled out his phone.

“Yes?” a gruff voice answered after a single ring.

“Dev? It’s Logan Harper.”

“Logan,” Dev Martin said, brightening. “How ya doin’?”

“I’m okay. You?”

“I got nothing to complain about.”

Like Logan and Harp, Dev Martin also lived in Cambria. He was in his sixties, but looked at least ten years younger. A former Marine and Vietnam vet, he’d kept himself in great shape. There were few people, no matter their age, who’d want to mess with him. Dev and his network of former servicemen had proved extremely useful when Logan was looking for Tooney’s granddaughter, Elyse.

“Good to hear.” Logan paused. “Let me cut right to it. I’m wondering if you might be able to help me out with something.”

Dev let out a low laugh. “Didn’t think this was just a social call.”

Logan explained the situation and what he needed.

“Braden or Laguna Beach, huh?” Dev said. “Let me make a call, and I’ll get right back to you.”

“Thanks, Dev.”

“No worries.”

Less than five minutes later, Dev called back. “Chris Pepper,” he said. “Goes by Pep. He was Navy, but don’t hold that against him. Lives in Victorville, so could be in Braden in a couple of hours.”

“Thanks, Dev. That sounds perfect. ”

“Told him expenses would be covered.”

“No problem,” Logan said. “Give me his cell number and I’ll text him the picture we have of Sara. It isn’t great, but it’s all we got.”

“He’ll do what he can with it,” Dev said, and then rattled off the number.

“How soon can he get out there?” Logan asked.

“I assumed you wanted them out there right away, so I already gave him the go ahead. If he’s not on the road already, he will be soon.”

It was almost six p.m. when Logan left the coffee shop. He thought Alan would still be at the office, but since he was close to the accountant’s house, he decided to try him there. When no one answered his knock right away, he guessed that he would have to come back later.

Then he heard a voice, distant and muffled. “Coming!”

A few seconds later, the deadbolt slid free and the door opened.

“Logan,” Alan said, surprised. “Come in. Come in.” He moved out of the way so Logan could enter, then shut the door behind him. “Sorry. Emily took a late nap, and I guess I fell asleep in the chair.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Logan said.

“Are you kidding? I shouldn’t be sleeping at all. I’ve got too much work to do.”

“Yeah, I was beginning to think you were still at the office.”

Alan hesitated before saying, “Emily goes to this nursery school in the mornings. She’s been attending since…well, before, so I thought it best that she kept going. While she’s there I go into the office. Then, unless there’s no way around it, I work the afternoons here.”

Alan could have easily afforded a nanny, but Logan could see that wasn’t even an option for him. He was trying to make Emily’s life as unchanged as possible, and while Sara was no longer there for her after nursery school, he was.