Linc glanced up as Ross walked in, a good-looking guy in his thirties with brown hair and a short-cropped beard around his mouth.
“Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” Ross said. “I had some leads I wanted to follow. Figured that’d be the best use of my time.”
Linc agreed. He wanted the P.I. out doing his job. He rose from behind his big mahogany desk as Townsend approached, walked around, and the men shook hands.
“Anything new happening on this end?” Ross asked.
“Yeah, you might as well cancel that protection detail you arranged. Carly spotted the guy on her way home from work and sent him packing. The little witch thinks she can take care of herself. Considering she was able to shove a Glock in his face and hold him at gunpoint, I’d say she might be right.”
“Crap. So I guess he’s fired.”
“Maybe. On the other hand, the men who went after her at Jubal’s are a different breed. They won’t hesitate to take her out if she gives them any trouble.”
“Not good.”
He tipped his head toward the carved mahogany table in the corner where the case file sat open, and they both walked in that direction.
“You spot anything in the file?” Townsend asked as they each pulled out a chair and sat down.
“One thing kind of bothered me. The cops at the scene didn’t spend much time with the couple who found the body and didn’t do any follow-up.”
Ross started nodding. “It’s possible they saw something, didn’t remember it till later. Worth a check for sure.”
“What about you? You come up with anything?”
Ross told him he’d been talking to people in the area, digging around, trying to find out if Miguel Hernandez could have been working for El Jefe. Trying to find out as much as he could about the drug lord and his minions without stirring up too much gossip.
“At this point, we can’t be sure Hernandez’s death and El Jefe are connected,” Ross said, “but we can’t rule it out, either. Which means the hijacking may be part of a bigger operation. Good chance by now the truck has been repainted and driven across the border into Mexico.”
“If El Jefe is involved, it has to be more than just stealing a truck. A guy who rakes in millions in drug money can afford to pay for a semi if he wants one.”
Ross’s phone rang just then. “Sorry, I should have silenced it.” He pulled it out of his pocket to turn it off, checked the number on the screen. “It’s Marino. He probably wants to beg for his job back. I’ll call him later.”
“Take it,” Linc said, his instincts kicking in again. Marino had been with Carly less than an hour ago.
“I’m busy,” Ross said into the phone. “I heard about your little run-in with the client so unless it’s important—”
Linc couldn’t hear the conversation on the other end of the line, but he caught the flash of eye contact Ross made with him, saw the pulse beginning to pound in the detective’s neck. Something was going on, something to do with Carly.
“Put it on speaker,” he said.
“Cain’s here,” Ross said to Marino as he set the phone down on the table. “Start from the beginning.”
“Okay, so after I got the message from Mr. Cain that I was fired—”
“We’ll talk about that later,” Ross said. “Go on.”
“I started driving back to Iron Springs, then I thought maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check on the lady before I packed it in. I didn’t want anything to happen to her because of me, you know.”
“Get to the point, Frank.”
“I went to her house, figuring she would be home by the time I got there, but she hadn’t made it home yet. I waited a few minutes, then decided to go back and trace the route she’d taken from the Stop and Shop, which was different from the way I’d gone. A few miles away from the store, I found her pickup. It was parked at the side of the road, but Ms. Drake wasn’t in it.”
Linc leaned over the table. “Where are you now?”
“I’m parked behind the truck. The doors are locked, no keys inside.”
“Maybe she had car trouble,” Ross suggested, “left the truck, and hitched to town.”
