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“Ms. Foster corroborated that,” Compton said. “She told us that you looked ‘ragged’ but were otherwise okay.”
“Then explain to me why a shadow of suspicion has been cast over Calder. What basis did Glenda have for blaming the Fairground shooting on him? The suggestion had to have come from you. Which dumbfounds me. It’s as preposterous as your asking me earlier if I was afraid of him.”
Perkins spoke up, asking quietly, “If it’s that preposterous, why isn’t he here, Ms. Portman? Why did he leave without a word?”
Elle’s throat grew tight. She shot up from her chair. “I need to take a bathroom break. Excuse me.” Before they could object, she left the room in a rush, bumping into Glenda as she rounded a corner in the hallway.
“Elle?”
Elle brushed past her without stopping. “I need a few minutes.”
She returned to the bedroom, shut the door behind her, and leaned against it. After having held herself together for more than an hour, the emotional logjam in her chest broke apart.
She clamped both hands over her mouth and screamed into them. Despite her determination not to cry over Calder, tears practically spurted from her eyes until they were streaming down both cheeks.
Damn him!Why? Why had he done this to her again? After all the tenderness and sweetness and passion they’d shared last night, how could he desert her again?
Elle, a better question would be why you continue to let him.
That question, which she had subconsciously asked herself, drew her up short. Yes, whywasshe? The more she thought about her susceptibility, the angrier she became. Certainly at him, but she was even angrier at herself.
Her gullibility ended now. She should have heeded her initial caution, listened to the voice of reason. She should have listened to Glenda.
Nevertheless, she gave no credence to Calder’s having anything to do with the shooting. Something was terribly wrong there. Regardless of how she felt personally, she would do what she could to rectify that misconception.
She went into the bathroom and washed her face with cold water, then walked back through the bedroom, a little better prepared to face the music.
As she approached the bedroom door, there was a soft tap on it. “I’m coming.” She opened the door expecting Glenda but finding Compton.
“We retrieved the pistol in the other suite from the nightstand drawer where you’d left it. I came for the other one.”
“Oh, it’s on the—” She turned to indicate the table at the side of the bed on which Calder had slept. The pistol wasn’t there.
When she and Compton returned to the media room, Glenda was setting a bowl of fresh fruit and a plate of brownies on the counter of the wet bar. Perkins was wrapping up a call on his phone. “Okay, thanks.” He clicked off. “They found the vehicle.”
He told them where. “Key fob was in it, so obviously he had no intention of stealing it,” he said, addressing that to Glenda. “A leather jacket with a monogram of his initials on the lining was found under the seat. No sign of him. Did you get the pistol?”
Compton glanced at Elle. “It wasn’t where Elle last saw it. We searched the bedroom and bathroom.” She shook her head.
Perkins’s only reaction was to slide his hands into his pants pockets. “Nothing else to report?” Compton asked.
“They’re canvassing, but there could have been a hundred or more folks on and off that parking lot since he was there.”
“What about security cameras?”
“They show the vehicle being driven in and him leaving it. Last seen, he was walking north along the access road, but then he disappeared from their scope. They’re going to start canvassing other businesses in that direction.”
“Or maybe he hitchhiked from there,” Glenda said. “Bummed a ride from a long-haul trucker. He could be in Oklahoma by now.”
Perkins took Glenda’s droll comments seriously. “Could be.” Back to Compton, he said, “Guys in the office are checking for credit card use, ATMs. We’ll run him down.”
“In the meantime, what’s he up to?” Glenda asked.
Three inquisitive pairs of eyes focused on Elle, who’d been following the conversation without contributing to it. “I have no idea,” she said.
“He didn’t say anything to you last night about what he planned to do in light of the safe house incident?” Compton asked.
“No. I asked him what he thought tomorrow—today—would bring. He said there would be fallout over the deputies being killed, but if he had a personal agenda, he didn’t share it.”
