“Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t be calling you.”
Diesel pushed out a sigh. His primary focus for the last several weeks was on an escaped criminal with the ability to shift into anyone, not his adult brother, Wheeler, who was prone to wandering off to paint or sculpt for a day or two without communicating his whereabouts to anyone. “He’s probably working.”
“Normally, I’d think that, too. But he was supposed to meet me an hour ago. Typically, he doesn’t go down a rabbit hole of creativity if he has a meeting.”
Diesel agreed. Wheeler was very creative and time wasn’t a priority when he was working on a piece. However, he was also very dependable. Even so, Diesel didn’t have time to worry about it right now. “In answer to your initial question, no, I haven’t seen him. Yes, usually he’s very prompt about meetings, but perhaps he got held up.”
“This early in the day? Held up by what?”
“How would I know?”
Gage made a noncommittal grunt. “Well, if you see him, tell him I want to talk to him.”
“Sure.” Diesel would probably forget all about this call thirty seconds after he hung up, but he pretended to be cordial. He needed to find an escaped criminal, not herd his many brothers around on a day-to-day basis.
Indigo Smith was a danger to everyone.
Wheeler was a danger to no one.
Diesel went back to thinking about Indigo and where the escaped prisoner could be.
Last week, Wyatt Campbell had assured Diesel he had his good friend and fellow sheriff, Hunter Valero, keeping an eye on someone Indigo Smith might contact if he reached the area. Daphne Charlene Dumont had fallen in with his plans easily enough the last time he’d been in Alienn.
Hunter was the sheriff in Old Coot, Arkansas, but he patrolled all around the tri-city area, just like Wyatt did. Hunter, as a human sheriff, was not privy to all the alien details regarding Indigo Smith, just a general description and BOLO to contact either Wyatt or Diesel if he saw or heard anything.
According to her testimony, Daphne Charlene swore she had been tricked and led astray by the infamous criminal. Afterward, her memory had been painlessly removed. As an Earther, she didn’t need to have any memory of Indigo Smith or Alpha alien information he might have let slip.
Diesel felt satisfied that fairness had been served and the bad guy had gone away to a gulag for his numerous crimes. Indigo’s escape from the gulag had been a blow to anyone seeking decency.
Diesel had ensured the stolen gold ingots were hidden where no one out of the loop would ever think to look for them. He almost broke his arm regularly patting himself on his own back at the cleverness of his hiding place.
And then Indigo Smith escaped.
Every single transport that arrived at the Big Bang Truck Stop’s belowstairs way station was scoured for any hint of the man, searched with trained dogs sniffing for the scent of anyone who didn’t belong and every corner searched twice before being allowed to leave.
Diesel had even insisted some permanent storage lockers on the last cruise liner be opened—which needed a special tool—for scrutiny. Director Patmore, the point of contact on board, had been livid before they opened the panel and was nearly apoplectic when nothing was found because the flight was delayed by half an hour to put things right again.
Pfft.
Diesel didn’t even care about the threat Patmore leveled at him, vowing to send a personal letter of censure. Whatever. Cam and Axel tried to smooth things over with the high-strung director, to no avail.
The word paranoid had been used several times in or near Diesel’s presence lately, but he only rolled his eyes, having reinstated that abandoned policy a while back. Eye rolling was his only salvation of late. Juliana was worried about him. He tried to tell her not to worry, but that was a waste of breath.
In the depths of his gut swirled the feeling that he and the truck stop were on the precipice of something dire. How could he be prepared if he just threw caution to the wind and pretended the most notorious criminal in several galaxies wasn’t on the loose and gunning for Earth?
He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
The phone on his desk rang, making him jump like a nervous nelly once more. Maybe he’d cut back on his caffeine intake.
“What?” he barked into the phone, figuring he was about to have to apologize to the caller in his next breath.
“It’s Wyatt. You need to come to the Skeeter Bite Sheriff’s Office. And I mean right now, this minute.”
Chapter Fourteen
Raphael woke with a pounding,I didn’t get nearly enough sleepheadache to the sound of someone knocking loudly on his door. The inevitable disappointment at discovering there was no Francine in his bed put him instantly in a foul mood.
