JORDAN
Both lanes of Broad Beach Road currently closed due to significant, unspecified police activity.
—@malibupoliceblotter
Jordan pulled over on the shoulder of the Pacific Coast Highway. Past the treetops and the rooftops of the beachfront homes below, he could see breakers rolling in a salty haze. He could also see, through a gap in the trees, the twenty-million-dollar house listed by Stephanie van der Lind. It was so clearly marked by police flashers and government vehicles he knew Cara Campbell would never return.
Sighing, he pulled back into traffic and drove into a shopping center, where he bought an eighteen-dollar sandwich and an eight-dollar iced tea from a boutique grocery store deli. He carried them back to his vehicle and watched the traffic while he ate.
When he was done, he called home. A mistake, because the sound of Amber’s voice made him want to hit the road and drive straight there. He reckoned he could be home by midnight.
“How are you holding up?” she asked.
“By my fingernails, and I think I’m about to chew off the last one.”
She chuckled. “You’ve never chewed your nails.”
“I’m off the task force, and I’m completely out of ideas. She’s still out there, and I have no idea where she’s headed or what she’s going to do when she gets there.”
“Then come home.”
“I want to.”
“Silverman, right?”
There sure were a lot of sports cars on this stretch of road, he thought idly. New and old, convertible and hardtop. Even a black Mustang—but a brand-new convertible, driven by a hefty bald man with a beard.
“The job is a pain, but I want to keep it, even if it’s only so he doesn’t get it. I know I’m not the perfect sheriff, but at least I’m not a walking conflict of interest with millions of dollars of property investments.”
“Don’t assume you’ll lose just because you haven’t brought her in.”
“He might win if he does.”
“Maybe it’s fine if she gets away. Sydney has listened to every episode of California Death Trip twice. I think she’s starting to wonder if Campbell might be innocent, but she won’t say it.”
“If she’s innocent, the system will clear her eventually. But she’s not safe out there.”
“Then go get her.”
He wanted to ask her how. Instead, he asked if there was any news about Bree.
“I should have told you. The doctor is easing her out of the coma. She still can’t talk, but she opened her eyes. She squeezed Joanne’s hand.”
Jordan’s eyes watered with relief. “That’s good news.”
“It sure is. Where there’s life, there’s hope.”
“I love you.”
“Love you more.” Amber’s voice still had a way of making him feel like her fingertips were walking slowly up his spine.
“I’ll be home soon.”
She made a loud kissing sound before she got off the phone, which made him chuckle and raised his spirits. He dabbed his eyes and watched the passing cars. There was no point in driving around, looking for her. He could swing by the nursing home, but he’d already talked to Karl Campbell’s aunt, and she sounded like she couldn’t remember her own name or what she’d had for breakfast.
He thought about his daughter listening to the podcast, wrestling with a stranger’s guilt or innocence.
Then he had another, better thought and called Beto.
