managed to jot down the license number. The third time it pulled into a space directly in front of the restaurant and stayed there for several minutes with the engine idling. No one got in or out, and the tint-darkened windows made it impossible for Ali to see inside. With her palms wet with sweat, Ali gripped the steering wheel. She had managed to lure CU out into the open, but she had no idea what his next move would be or hers, either.
With her full attention focused on the Explorer, Ali jumped involuntarily when Crystal’s phone sprang to life and buzzed again.
“HERE,” CU wrote. “WAU?” Where are you?
“TRYING TGTHOOH,” Ali added. Trying to get the hell out of here.
“TRY HARDER,” CU wrote back. “TYPO.” Take your panties off.
The idea that he was trying to lure someone as young as Crystal out of the hospital for quickie sex made Ali furious. Stymied by the tinted windows, Ali was almost to the point of exiting the Cayenne to see if she could get a better look inside the Explorer. That’s when her own phone rang. She had to put Crystal’s phone down before she could answer.
“Ali?” a woman said. “Arabella Ashcroft here. Have you read it yet?”
“Read what?” Ali asked.
“The diary,” Arabella answered impatiently.
Guiltily Ali realized that the mostly unread diary was still where she had left it the night before-in her purse.
“No,” Ali admitted. “I’ve been caught up in a crisis. I haven’t had a chance.”
“That’s probably just as well,” Arabella replied. “Things have changed on my end, too. I don’t need you to read it after all. If you’d be so kind as to just drop it off here when you have a chance.”
Crystal’s phone was buzzed again. “CNT W8 ALL DAY. MYB.” Move your butt. Clearly CU was running out of patience.
“I’ll have to get back to you on this,” Ali said to Arabella. “I’m in Phoenix right now and busy.”
“Certainly,” Arabella said. “At your convenience. There’s no rush.”
“PLS,” Ali wrote. Please. But by then the Explorer was already backing out of the parking place. As it eased south on Third, Ali made a split-second decision. She put the Cayenne in gear and followed. Traffic was a mess. It was all she could do to keep the Explorer in view while at the same time trying to remain unobtrusive. There was sweat on her face now, slipping down her forehead and dripping into her eyes; soaking the back of her shirt.
Despite CU’s apparent impatience with Crystal-or at least with the person he thought was Crystal-the man didn’t seem to be in that big of a rush to leave the neighborhood. Ali’s frantic reality slipped into a strange slow motion. Time seemed to stand still. She followed the SUV as the driver made his way back across Thomas and cruised around the hospital grounds, probably checking to see if Crystal was actually on her way. He stopped briefly at a passenger loading zone right next to the hospital entrance. For a heart-stopping moment, Ali was afraid he was going to leave the Explorer with the valet and go inside looking for Crystal. Finally, though, he drove away and headed west on Thomas. Hoping to stay out of sight, Ali delayed as long as she could before turning onto Thomas several car lengths back and following him into what was fast turning into afternoon gridlock.
Intent on her pursuit, Ali was startled when her phone rang while she was stopped at the light at 19th and Thomas. Grabbing it up, she was relieved to see Dave’s number in the readout.
“Court just recessed for today,” he told her. “I didn’t get called, which means I’ll have to be back here tomorrow. So where are you? Should I head for Phoenix or back home to Sedona?”
Ali was in full crisis mode, and the very sound of Dave’s calm, unruffled voice helped her get a grip.
“You should probably come on down to Phoenix-to the hospital,” she said.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, but you sound funny. Are you all right?”
Ali was a long way from all right. The light changed and traffic inched toward the freeway, but the Explorer didn’t make it through on that cycle, and neither did Ali.
“I’m stuck in traffic,” she said. “And I need your help.”
“Name it.”
“I need you to run a plate for me.”
“Run a plate?” Dave repeated. “Have you switched over to cop lingo now?”
Ali read off the letters and number. “Please,” she added when she finished. “Just run it.”
“You realize it’s against regulations to run a plate for private use?”
Ali took a deep breath. “It’s about Crystal,” she said.
“Why didn’t you say so?”
Ali hung up. The Explorer turned onto the eastbound I-10 entrance ramp at Thomas and waited for the metered traffic light to allow it to merge onto the crowded freeway. Ali followed suit. Once on the freeway, the Explorer cut in and out of traffic, forcing Ali to do the same. Even so, it took the better part of an anxiety-ridden hour of nail-biting to travel from there to where the Explorer exited onto eastbound U.S. 60.
While she waited for Dave to call back, Ali worried about what she would tell him. She had used a possible connection to Crystal to galvanize him to action. Ali knew that sooner or later she would have to tell him what was really going on with his wayward daughter. Crystal wasn’t ever going to tell him. That would be up to Ali. Between worrying about telling Dave about Crystal’s issues and dreading the coming confrontation with the driver of the Explorer, Ali’s stress level was off the charts.
“Got it,” Dave said when he finally called back. “The 2001 Ford Explorer belongs to Curtis Wilson Uttley of 101 Blue Spruce Circle, Flagstaff, Arizona. Who is he? What’s going on?”
So CU was Curtis Uttley. That made sense, but before Ali could answer, she realized that the Explorer was headed for the exit ramp at McClintock. With traffic the way it was, Ali realized she could either drive or talk. She couldn’t do both.
“Thanks, Dave,” she said. “I’ll have to get back to you.”
At the light, the Explorer turned right on the red and headed south. Unfortunately, the vehicle two cars in front of Ali decided to go straight through the intersection. Ali was forced to wait interminably until the light finally turned green. By the time she made the corner, the Explorer had vanished.
For the next several minutes, Ali cruised the neighborhood streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of where the Explorer had gone. A Roto-Rooter truck was parked in front of one of the houses, but that was the only sign of life. Ali saw no pedestrians on the street, no joggers or kids out riding bikes, no people she could have asked for help in tracking down exactly where the missing SUV had gone.
Shaking with a combination of frayed nerves, letdown, and frustration, Ali eventually had to give it up and head back to Phoenix. On the way, she picked up her phone and called Dave back.
He answered right away. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I was driving,” she said. “Traffic was bad.”
“Tell me about Curtis Uttley’s vehicle. Where did you spot it? Was he driving it or was somebody else?”
“I was following it, but I lost it over in Tempe,” Ali said. “And I have no idea who was driving it. I couldn’t see inside. Why?”
“Because that vehicle is listed on a BOLO, a be-on-the-lookout-for, in a missing persons case out of Flagstaff,” Dave said. “Curtis Uttley reportedly left there on Tuesday night, supposedly to visit one of the casinos down in Scottsdale. He evidently has a bit of a gambling problem. His wife didn’t bother reporting him missing until today. Now tell me,” Dave added. “What’s going on?”
Ali felt her heart constrict as she found herself wondering if the CU who had been sending text messages to Crystal’s phone had been someone else and not the real Curtis Uttley at all. She had been pretending to be Crystal. Maybe someone else had been pretending to be Curtis Uttley. Clearly turnabout was fair play.
“I’m afraid this particular missing person may have far more serious problems than gambling,” Ali said.
“Why?” Dave asked. “What makes you say that?”
Ali didn’t answer directly. “Are you on your way here now?”
“As a matter of fact I am,” Dave said. “Why?”
“Because,” Ali told him. “We need to talk.”
Ali returned to the hospital to find Madeline Havens gone. Crystal was closeted with Detective Farris in a small conference room just off the lobby, and Bob Larson was still commiserating with Sandy Mitchell. If there had been any change in Kip’s situation, no one had bothered to come let Sandy know. That was where things stood
