Camy Tang - Gone Missing

“No, wait,” Clay said. “Let’s keep our cell phones for a little while.”

“We should at least dismantle them so they can’t trace the GPS—”

“No, keep them on. I have an idea.”

But before she could tell him, the cab arrived. It drove them to Fiona’s company parking lot so she could pick up her car. When the cab had left, Joslyn asked, “What now?”

“Let’s go to my hotel.”

“But the men after us will know you’ll go back there.”

“It’s what I’m hoping for,” Clay said.

She looked at him strangely. “Does this have to do with the cell phones?”

“Yup. Let’s go.”

His hotel was close to Fiona’s house, which was unfortunately halfway across town, so it took them the better part of an hour before they were finally pulling into the hotel parking lot. There were a couple police squad cars parked outside the front doors. Clay’s shoulders were bunched as he saw them. Joslyn wondered if it was a throwback to his time working for that mob family. He certainly wouldn’t have been happy to see the police back then.

However, as she drove past the squad cars, there was suddenly loud shouting. She instinctively hit the brakes.

Then they were surrounded by police officers. Joslyn glanced at Clay, but he had the same perplexed look. “What do we do?” she asked.

“Get out of the car, I guess.”

She turned off the engine and slowly got out of the car. Clay opened the passenger side door and cautiously stood up, his hands raised.

And instantly the officers were slamming him face-first against the side of the car and slapping handcuffs on him.

“What’s going on?” Joslyn said. The officers weren’t bothering with her.

“Clay Ashton, you’re under arrest,” one officer said.

“For what?” he demanded.

“A hit-and-run accident. You put a kid in the hospital.”

FOUR

Joslyn reined in her temper as she exited the police station. It wasn’t the fault of the officer behind the reception desk that they couldn’t give out any information about Clay, but she still felt like kicking something.

The Arizona heat was a slap in the face after the slightly sour smell of the police station waiting room, where she’d spent the better part of the last hour. She needed to regroup and figure out her next move, but she wouldn’t be able to do it there.

The worst part was not knowing what the right course of action was. Everything about this situation was out of her hands—she couldn’t find out what charges Clay was being held on, she didn’t know anything about the two men who were after them and worst of all, Fiona was missing and they had no idea where she was or if she was even alive.

She shivered despite the heat. She had to believe Fiona was still alive.

Right now, she had to find out how to exonerate Clay. She remembered what Fiona had said about her brother, and now that she’d met him, Joslyn found it easy to trust him. She’d had to relearn how to trust people after she’d escaped from Tomas. Something about Clay was so open, so earnest. He had that sadness behind his eyes every so often, but it never seemed he was trying to hide anything.

Her cell phone rang, and she didn’t recognize the number, but she answered. “This is Joslyn.”

“Oh, good, I did remember your phone number right.” Clay breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Clay! Are you calling from the police station?”

“Yeah, my one call. I gotta make this quick. Know any good lawyers?”

She could call her boss Elisabeth, who probably knew some good lawyers. Elisabeth seemed to have a million contacts. “Did you do it?” Joslyn asked.

“Not unless I was in two places at once. It happened at noon today, with my rental car. They got an ‘anonymous tip’ about it. I tried to explain the car was stolen from the mall parking lot, but the detective didn’t believe me.” His voice ended on a bitter note.

“That’s not enough to hold you.”

“They can hold me for forty-eight hours without cause. I think they’re suspicious because of my record and the explosion at Fiona’s house.”

“We were the victims there.”

“You’re preaching to the choir.”

“Okay, I’ll figure out something.” She already had an idea, thanks to the training she’d gotten at the O’Neill Agency. “Sit tight, don’t say anything.”

“I know the drill.” Clay paused, then said, “Be careful, okay? We know there’re two guys after us, and if they’re involved in this, then you’re on your own. Watch your back. Stay in public places.”

“I know the drill,” Joslyn said soberly. As she hung up, she knew he was right. It wasn’t good for her to be alone right now. She missed having him to guard her back.

She didn’t want to rely on Clay—on anyone, really—but it was strange that she’d come to depend on him in only the few hours she’d known him. His quick reflexes and protective instinct had already saved her from that bomb, and his friendly nature had enabled them to get some information from Ruby and Rufus at the art museum. Elisabeth always told Joslyn that her questioning sounded more like a police interrogation.

Realizing how much she might need his help made her feel vulnerable. Which was silly. She was vulnerable to those two thugs who were after them, not to Clay.

Well, she was no longer that timid, shy girl dependent on a big, brawny boyfriend—Tomas had cured her of that. The O’Neill Agency had taught her lots of skills, including how to stay safe.

And how to prove her whereabouts. Or in this case, Clay’s whereabouts at noon.

First, she gave her bosses a call, but got their voice mail. She left a message explaining the situation, and asked for a recommendation for a lawyer here in Arizona.

She got in her rental car and drove back to the mall. Retracing their steps, she checked the store fronts for cameras, but found none. So she went into the men’s clothing store they’d entered first and asked to speak to the manager.

While she was waiting, she tried to relax her face and body. It wouldn’t do her any good to look as tense and stressed as she felt.

The manager approached, a bored-looking man in his forties with dark hair and swarthy skin. His nameplate read Edgar.

“Mr. Edgar—”

“Just Edgar,” he said. “How can I help you, miss?”

“I’m Joslyn Dimalanta, with the O’Neill Agency.” She handed him her business card. “I’m hoping you can help me out.”

He flicked a glance at her card, but said nothing.

“I came in here with my friend about two hours ago. He bought some clothes. But the police are insisting he was across town in a hit-and-run accident at the exact same time.”

“Look, I’m sorry for your friend, but what does that have to do with me?”

“Would you be able to call the police and show them your store video feed?” Joslyn pointed to the discreet camera, which covered the cashiers at the front of the store. “It can prove my friend was here and not at the accident scene.”

Edgar sighed and rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. I’ll call them tonight after the store closes.”

“You couldn’t do it now? He’s at the police station—”

“He’s not going anywhere, and I’m busy right now.” He nodded to the cashiers, who were all busy with customers. “It’ll have to be later, okay?” He suddenly remembered he was talking to a customer and added, “I’m sorry. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Hold still so I can bop you in the nose. She forced a smile. “No.”

He walked away. He hadn’t even asked the name of her friend in jail.

As she exited the store, her jaw hurting from her gritted teeth, Joslyn reflected that maybe the time stamp on the store wouldn’t even be close to the time of the accident. After all, they’d hit this store first, after parking the car.