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Sure enough, behind a cluster of trees was a black car. Through the branches the sun glinted off the windshield.
“Act natural,” Brian said. “I’ll climb up to the roof. See if I can get a license plate number. Then we’ll get ready and leave in separate vehicles. I want you to go someplace well-populated. Maybe Delgado’s.”
It was close to USD. Busy from the time they opened until closing. Good spot.
“Then we’ll see,” he said, “which one of us is being followed.”
THEEARLYEVENINGheat was sweltering even though the sun was low in the sky. Perspiration rolled down Brian’s temples, his mind roiling with worry for Charlie. No one had followed him to the sheriff’s department, which meant that Charlie was the target.
At the sheriff’s, he’d gone to ask the chief deputy if there were any leads on who shot at her. Also, he had them run the license plate number he was able to get while on the roof.
Came up with the oddest result.
“It’s showing as blocked,” a deputy had said. “Maybe it’s a government vehicle. Or possibly an undercover police vehicle. Wouldn’t you be able to find out at the LPD?”
So, he’d passed the plate number on to Kent.
Lowering his binoculars, Brian didn’t like the looks of the large house sitting at the address in Woods Landing-Jelm that Charlie had given him. It was on the back side of Jelm Mountain. About three acres bordering what might be state land. No neighbors nearby.
The place had all the telltale signs of being a meth house. Blackened windows. An unusual ventilation system that pumped wisps of smoke through small pipes on the roof. The smell of rotten eggs carried on the breeze. A couple of armed guys out front smoked cigarettes, presumably security. Dead vegetation around the property. Burn pits in the grass.
The house at the other address in Centennial hadn’t been quite the same. Protected by armed guards as well, but it had a different feel to it. Maybe it was used for distribution or storage. He hadn’t been able to get too close to that location, either. With it being isolated, security could see someone coming from miles away.
Nothing odd about a narcotics detective checking out such a place. In fact, it could be a sign Seth was only doing his job.
But the thought of Charlie being out here, sneaking around this house, made Brian’s blood pressure rise. Meth labs, their cooks and users were extremely dangerous and unpredictable.
He hoped like hell that she listened to him and stayed away from Seth. Was she trying to incite him by following him?
She was certainly underestimating him. He wasn’t stupid. And if he was guilty of being dirty and harming his wife, then there was no limit as to what he would do to Charlie.
Last night, he felt as though they’d had a breakthrough. She’d opened up, daring to share a dicey truth in spite of the risks. Showed real trust that he thought they could build upon.
This morning, he wasn’t so sure. She hadn’t been icy. Only quiet. Like she wasn’t certain of the way forward. He had a niggling fear in the back of his mind. About Charlie. That she was going to make excuses to him, even to herself, why they couldn’t be together. They might not have slept together, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t be inclined to run. She’d been doing it for so many years that it was second nature to her.
As long as she understood that following a detective, who might be dirty and might have killed his wife was too dangerous to continue, then the rest was doable. He’d find a way to scale her fences.
Thinking about Seth, he glanced at his watch. Six twenty. He needed to get going. The first football practice of the season was starting in forty minutes.
Brian slid down the hill he was perched on. Dusted himself off and climbed back into his truck. He pulled off onto the road, heading back to Laramie.
In town, he ignored the fast-food signs calling his name. Charlie hadmadebreakfast, which consisted of smoothies. Apparently, she wasn’t much of a cook. He’d skipped lunch and could have used a burger something fierce. It would be hours before he’d get a chance to grab dinner.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out. Glanced at the screen. It was Kent. He put the call through Bluetooth. “Did you find something?” He’d expect the guy to wait until Monday to check it out.
“Nada. Sorry. I got the same result as the sheriff’s department. It’s weird. If it’s one of ours, I should be able to see it. Unless someone deliberately wanted it hidden. Or it could be some other explanation. Listen, I’m still in the office looking at something. Got a minute?”
He’d been there for hours.
“It’s a Saturday,” Brian said. “Your day off.”
“I’ve got no life. Sue me.” Kent gave a dry chuckle that Brian suspected was hiding a deep layer of grief. “Anyway, I want to run something by you.”
“Yeah, sure,” Brian said. “What is it?”
“A woman came into the station yesterday, Donna Williams, to file a missing person’s report on her son, Theodore. He goes by Teddy.”
“Okay. So, what?” Brian turned onto Grand Avenue, going straight to the field where they played. He’d change in the cab of the truck since he’d packed his gear this morning. “I’m not tracking why you’re asking me about it.”
