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“You don’t know that he’s alive, Kara.”
“Maybe I don’t have proof, but I know in my gut that he’s alive. Will Lattimer will tell me. He might be a Marine and trained not to give up secrets, but he can’t look me in the eye and tell me Colton is dead if he’s breathing. Do you think I’m wrong? Do you believe that Colton is dead, just like everyone told me?”
Matt looked at her. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “But I know you, and you don’t believe in fairy tales.”
Kara didn’t know why that simple statement, that simple faith in her, made her chest swell. She leaned over and spontaneously kissed him. “Thank you.”
“Go. I’m right here. Keep me updated every step of the way or I am going in, and I’m not going to be subtle.”
There were no free newspapers or advertisements on the doormat.
Kara remembered Colton was always irritated by what he called “littering on private property” because every day people left junk on his small porch. The yard was maintained—the trees dumped a generous amount of leaves no matter what the season, but the lawn was trimmed with few scattered leaves, meaning someone had hired a gardener to take care of the place.
Probably Lex. Keeping an eye on Colton’s place like he kept an eye on her place. Like he kept an eye on every home of his detectives who were working undercover and might not get to their house for several nights...
Or whoever Colton left the house to in his will was living here. Maybe she was wrong.
You’re not wrong.
The long driveway went to the back of the house. There was no vehicle in it. A one-car garage, detached, used to house Colton’s bike. Like her, he only owned a motorcycle. Much easier getting around traffic on a bike than in a car. They’d gone riding together a couple of times, through the Topanga Canyon or up to the Angeles National Forest.
The single window was dark, a thick canvas blind pulled down, so she couldn’t see if his bike was still there. It wouldn’t mean anything if it were, though she could inspect it, see if it had been sitting inside for a while.
The door was manual; Colton had never put an automatic door opener on it. She squatted to the handle on the bottom right—it had a new lock on it. He’d never locked his garage before. Maybe the new owners...
Kara was having second thoughts about her plan, but decided to just do it. She was 70 percent positive that she was right.
She walked around behind the garage to a large rock that was wedged between the corner of the garage and the side fence.
She and Colton had been on their first joint undercover assignment when he brought her here.
“If the shit hits the fan, go to my place. It’s clean, safe.”
He walked her down the driveway and to the back of the garage and pointed to the rock.
“You keep a key under a rock. Original.”
“More than a key.” He grinned.
The rock was heavy but rounded. He heaved it over on its flattest side. Underneath was a lockbox.
“It would be pretty easy to break that open,” she said.
“Yep,” he agreed. “The code is my badge number.”
“You’re full of originality.”
He rolled the numbers into place.
Inside was a set of keys and a plastic bag with a thousand in cash and a small notebook.
“Now I know where to get bankrolled for a trip to Vegas.”
“Help yourself, just replace it. I have another stash in the house, but if I think I’m being followed, I can get here through the alley and hop the neighbor’s side yard, grab the stuff and disappear with no one knowing I was here.” He held up the keys. “Keys to the house, to my bike, and to my uncle’s cabin in Big Bear.”
“I didn’t know you had an uncle.”
“He died, the cabin is in a trust that I now control. Uncle George lived there for the last twenty years of his life, was kind of a hermit.”
