Oh, sure,thatwas the way to tell me bad news. “Galen.”
He was resigned when he looked up from his phone. “The guys in dispatch just got a call. Wesley is missing.”
It took me a moment to compute what he said. “What?”
“Wesley, he’s missing.”
Wesley’s men were used to his Unabomber ways. The man liked to spend time alone … and with my ghostly grandmother. They wouldn’t have called unless they were absolutely certain something was amiss.
I tossed off the covers and rolled toward the bathroom. “Let’s go,” I barked.
4
FOUR
The drive to Wesley’s house took a solid thirty minutes. There were only a few vehicles on Moonstone Bay — most everybody drove golf carts — but Galen owned one of them. As sheriff, he needed an official vehicle.
The road to Wesley’s ranch was a two-lane desolate highway. Moonstone Bay didn’t have enough traffic for anything bigger. Heck, it didn’t have enough traffic for a roundabout in the busy downtown. Almost all the parking lots in the urban area were used for festivals and events for tourists. There were spots for golf carts to be parked but they didn’t take up nearly as much room.
My leg jostled nervously as I stared out the window. It wasn’t like Wesley to go off without telling his men. Sure, he liked spending time in nature — he once told me the trees called to him — but he always told somebody where he was going.
“Baby, don’t get worked up until we know what’s happening,” Galen chided, his hand landing on my jiggling knee. “For all we know, he’s already back.”
“They would have called.”
“You know the cell service between his ranch and the city is crap. Even if they texted I might not get it until we’re under the coverage of his satellite.”
That was true. I’d been caught in the dead zone more than once. Still, I didn’t believe that. “He’s gone.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I feel it,” I snapped. Instantly, I felt bad and lifted my hands in supplication. “I’m sorry. I’m worried.”
“I know.” His voice was soft. He was worried but didn’t want to come out and say so. If he did, he’d be acknowledging Wesley was in real trouble.
It wasn’t that Galen wanted to lie to protect my delicate sensibilities. He had solid training in dealing with overwrought family members. More often than not, these thingsdidresolve themselves fairly fast.
Not this time. I think we both knew that.
We made the rest of the trip in silence. Galen hadn’t even rolled to a stop in Wesley’s driveway before I hopped out of his truck and ran to the barn nearest the house.
Wesley spent a lot of time in the barn, where he had a woodworking shop — he liked to craft furniture — and when he was chewing on something that needed to be figured out. He did his thinking while building a chair or a swing.
Maybe he’d grown lightheaded or lost track of time. Maybe he was just behind the workbench.
The second I walked through the doors I knew he wasn’t in the barn. Wesley had a certain presence, and the barn was devoid of that presence today.
I felt rather than heard Galen walk into the barn behind me. “I’m sure they searched all the barns,” he said.
“I know.” I wasn’t angry at Galen — not really — but I bubbled with resentment. “I just thought maybe … .”
“That they’d overlooked him somehow,” hefinished.
“I’m sure you think I’m an idiot.”
“No, Hadley, that’s the exact opposite of what I think.”
When he lowered his eyes to mine I found sympathy waiting for me. There was also determination. “We’re going to find him.”
