“I don’t understand. What made you suspect this man Gund in the first place?”
“He lied about where he went on his lunch hour. So I followed him after work. He drove into the desert. He’s got a ranch, somewhere southeast of town-I found a spare set of keys.”
Vaguely she realized she was not relating these events in any logical order, but she couldn’t seem to organize her thoughts. Panic kept squeezing her throat shut, making it difficult to speak.
“A ranch?” Walker asked, sounding dubious.
“Yes. A ranch. I’ve got the keys. He’s keeping Erin there.”
“You don’t know that. You didn’t see her.”
“I saw the photo. I have it with me. His fingerprints are probably all over it. What more do you need?”
“Annie, you’re in the photo, too.”
“So?”
“Maybe it’s you he wanted a picture of. Maybe he’s got a crush on his boss. Nothing more sinister than that.”
“Oh, Christ…” Disappointment thudded down on her like a dead weight. “You don’t believe me.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You still won’t help me. Still.”
Suddenly she was crying, though she hated herself for it. Crying, her back turned to the cops, hoping they couldn’t see.
“Annie,” Walker said gently, “what do you want me to do?”
“Arrest him. Arrest Gund.”
“He’s not charged with any crime.”
“There’s the photo,” she said desperately. “It’s my property. He stole it, didn’t he?”
“And you stole it back. After breaking and entering.”
“Then arrest me, too, I don’t care!”
“I can’t do it, Annie.”
He couldn’t do it. Naturally. He couldn’t do anything. Except tell her that she was a paranoid head case and Erin was fine, just fine.
Annie wiped her eyes, straightened up. All right, then. If he wouldn’t help her, then she would handle things on her own.
“Annie?” Walker’s voice was curiously tinny. She noticed that she had lowered the telephone handset to the desk. “Annie?”
She cradled the phone, then walked briskly out the door into the warm night.
The cop on duty at the glassed-in cubicle outside nodded to her as she passed by. She didn’t notice.
A pickup truck had parked next to her Miata in the visitors’ lot. Her car door banged the truck’s side panel as she slipped behind the wheel. She didn’t notice that, either.
Cough of ignition, squeal of tires, and she pulled into the street.
Her mind was only marginally focused on the details of driving. She was mapping strategy.
Erin was at Gund’s ranch. Had to be.
The ranch was probably in the general vicinity of Houghton Road.
Annie had a set of keys to that ranch.
Simple enough, then. She would retrace the route Gund had taken this evening. Search the side roads for a ranch whose gate and doors would open to the keys in her pocket.
Of course, there was a chance Gund would go there, too. Might be on his way already. Presumably he knew she was on to him. He might panic, decide to end it all.
If he was there when she arrived…
Well, maybe he wouldn’t be. Maybe he was looking for her at her townhouse or the shop. Or fleeing across the state line, or getting on a plane to Mexico.
Anyway, she would have to risk it. She had no choice.
There was no one to help her, not this time. No one to take charge and spare her the responsibility of action. No one to lead her by the hand, out of the flames.
“Annie? Annie? ”
Walker stabbed the reset button on his kitchen phone and used the memory feature to dial the station.
In their first meeting, Annie Reilly had told him she was impulsive and emotional. She might be wrong about Gund, about Erin, about nearly everything, but on that particular point Walker had to concur.
Ringing on the other end of the line.
“Hackett.” The desk sergeant.
“Ed, this is Walker. That woman who phoned me-is she still there?”
“Just left.”
“Send someone after her. Bring her back.”
“Right.”
Walker waited on hold, the fried eggs on the stove beginning to burn.
He was worried. Annie already had done something crazy when she broke into Harold Gund’s apartment. Now, distraught as she was, she might do something still crazier.
Smoke from the frying pan wafted toward the ceiling. It would set off the smoke detector in the hallway before long. He reached across the kitchen, turned off the burner, then picked up the pan and placed it in the sink.
No eggs tonight. Just as well. His doctor had warned him to watch his cholesterol.
Hackett came back on the line. “Sorry, Michael. She’s gone. Whipped out of the visitors’ lot like a smoking fast ball.”
“Okay, Ed. Thanks.”
He thumbed the reset button again. Then stood motionless, staring out the window at the night sky, thinking hard.
A ranch in the desert, Annie had said. Southeast of town.
If Gund had bought the place, a record of the purchase would be kept at the county tax assessor’s office.
The office was closed for the night. But Walker had a friend who worked there. A friend who owed him for some hard-to-get playoff tickets to a Phoenix Suns game a few years ago, tickets obtained from a former Tucson cop, now part of America West Arena’s security detail.
It would take his friend less than a half hour to drive to the office and find the file, if it existed.
Probably unnecessary. Probably Erin Reilly had left of her own volition, as her letter had stated. Probably Annie was imagining the worst, and this Harold Gund was just a lonely man infatuated with his attractive boss. Probably.
“Oh, hell,” Walker whispered.
He dialed his friend’s home number and called in the favor.
50
Gund, driving fast on Interstate 10, heading southeast.
He would keep going until he crossed the state border into New Mexico. In Las Cruces he could ditch the van and steal a car. Afterward, he would get off the main highway and take the back roads. In Dallas or Houston, he would buy new ID.
Did he have money? None. He’d packed nothing, taken nothing. Panic must have chased all practicalities from his brain.
It didn’t matter. Along the way he would steal whatever he needed.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened. He pushed the speedometer needle to eighty as the concrete miles blurred past.
