Power Play. Beverly LongЧитать онлайн книгу.
after Trey gave him a brief rundown.
“Yeah,” Trey said. Rico could data mine better than anybody in the company. “There is. Get me everything you can on Kellie McGarry. Age twenty-eight or twenty-nine. Not sure of her birth date. Moved to North Las Vegas about six months ago.” Information was power and Kellie had just given up all rights to privacy.
On one hand, he was incredibly happy that Kellie had escaped the destruction at her apartment. But he was really frustrated that instead of calling him for help, after he’d just offered it hours earlier, he was now chasing after her. What the hell kind of trouble could she be in and where could she be headed?
He knew that the right thing to do was contact the police about the damage at Kellie’s apartment. But that could delay him for hours. Instead, he simply turned the lock on the door and closed it behind him, leaving it how he’d found it. He walked out the front door of the building, toward the carport. He wanted a better look at her car.
From the outside it appeared fine. But when he looked inside, he immediately saw that the glove compartment door, which had been shut last night when he’d watched her get in her car, was now hanging open. She could have opened it, of course. But given the damage in her apartment, he thought it very possible that someone had been in her vehicle. He saw no obvious signs of entry but it was easy enough to get into a locked car with the right tools.
He put two fingers under his shirttail and then tried the door. It was unlocked. Last night, he’d watched her use her fob to unlock her car. For most people, especially people who lived in places where their car wasn’t in a secured spot, it was habit to lock the doors. He suspected it was her habit.
But if he was right and somebody had searched her car, they hadn’t cared enough to lock up after themselves. Hadn’t cared enough to shut the glove compartment. They hadn’t been careful. Just like they hadn’t been careful in her apartment.
He walked back to his truck. Hagney had said he dropped her off at the bus station. Trey quickly used his phone to see the early morning bus schedule. There were a couple options. She could have headed north toward Reno or west toward Los Angeles. This was like looking for a needle in a haystack. His only option was to go to the bus station, see if there was anybody working now who had been working the previous night, and hope they remembered Kellie. Rico would verify there had been no credit card activity, but he wasn’t expecting any. She’d gotten cash from Hagney and that’s what she’d be spending.
When he got to the depot, it was busier than he’d anticipated. People coming and going into Sin City. What were the chances that somebody was going to remember her? Given that she’d purchased her ticket sometime around four thirty in the morning, that might help him. There had to be far fewer people traveling at that time.
There was no one at the information desk, so he had no choice but to wait in line to talk to a cashier. He was a young white man with an earring hanging from his nose. “My sister took a bus out of here really early this morning,” Trey said. “Maybe 4:30 or 5:00. It’s very important that I find her, a family emergency. Do you know who I might talk to who would have been working then?”
The young man shook his head. “Night shift comes on at seven. They all work twelve-hour shifts.”
Damn. That meant the same people weren’t working every night. Full-time employees probably worked three or four shifts a week. He had to hope that somebody scheduled for tonight had been here last night and that they had seen Kellie. “Okay,” he said. He had fifty minutes to kill. He walked back to his truck. Considered his options. He could call Rodney Ballure. After all, Kellie worked for him. He was a pompous moron with nonexistent morals but he would no doubt be concerned about Anthony’s little sister. But what had Anthony said the night before? Something along the lines that he didn’t think Kellie would be too happy if he involved Rodney in trying to reach her. She’d likely feel the same way if Trey reached out to Ballure now.
He really didn’t want to piss her off. He wanted to find her, ensure she was safe and convince her that whatever was the problem, he could help.
While he waited for the night shift to come on duty, he would go home and get better prepared for travel in the event it was necessary. He had a handgun in his truck, always carried it. But since he believed in being prepared, he’d also grab a rifle and lots of ammunition. Some clothes, too.
He drove fast, his mind reviewing the chaos he’d seen in Kellie’s apartment. It could have been random destruction but he was confident that somebody had been looking for something. And they hadn’t cared about being neat. They hadn’t cared that Kellie was going to know that somebody had been in her apartment.
Which meant that maybe they’d been there when she’d gotten home, waiting for her. That thought practically made him run his vehicle off the road.
But somehow, he didn’t think she’d gone inside. She’d told Hagney that she suspected somebody was inside. If she’d seen the destruction, she’d likely not been able to lie about it like that, she’d have been too shaken. So she’d seen something or heard something that made her think there was trouble inside. And headed right to Hagney’s house. There wasn’t any space in the timeline for her to dawdle or think about next steps.
Why the hell would she have thought her only option was to run? This had to be something serious. His first thought was drugs. Was she dealing? He just couldn’t see that. She was the picture of the all-American girl. She certainly wasn’t using. Too healthy.
Could it be more personal? Had she gotten involved with a married man and now the wife was causing her trouble? Maybe. But again, didn’t fit in his head.
Or had she gotten involved with a man and tried to break it off and was he now trying to convince her that she’d made a wrong decision. He knew it was a long shot but he picked up his phone and dialed a friend in the police department.
“Hi, Trey,” Gus Warren answered. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” he said. “Hey, I’ve got a case and I just need to know what I’m getting myself into,” he said. “Can you tell me if there have been any police responses to 5331 North Maggie, Apartment 2C in the last six months?”
“Sure, hang on.” There was a few minutes of silence. “Nope. Nothing.”
“Any protection orders for a Kellie McGarry?”
Again, silence. “I got nothing,” Gus said.
Trey didn’t know if he felt better or worse. Everything was a dead end. “Great. Thank you,” he said.
“No problem. Call me when you want to lose some money at cards.”
“I’ll do that,” Trey said. He liked playing with Gus. He was a smart card player. Still, Trey very rarely lost to him.
He pulled into his driveway and quickly got out of his car. It took him less than five minutes to pack what he needed. He tossed everything into the bed of his truck, on top of the tools that he always carried with him. He made sure the top was affixed and then took off.
He drove directly back to the bus depot, pulling in at 7:05. When he walked in, he picked the shortest line to stand in. Finally got to the window and pulled up the text that he’d sent to Anthony. The middle-aged Hispanic woman looked at it. Eyes on sister. Was that going to be enough that she’d believe his story? Since it was all he had, he was going with it.
“I’m looking for my sister,” Trey said. “She bought a ticket very early this morning, probably around 4:30 a.m. We have a family emergency and must get in contact with her. Were you working last night?”
“I was,” the woman said, staring at the photo. “Such lovely hair.”
Trey discreetly slid a fifty dollar bill across the counter. The woman barely glanced at it before pushing it back in his direction. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re not allowed to give out any information about passengers.”
“Our mother,” Trey said, “is dying. I have to let her know.”
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