Every Precious Thing

emotions control his actions at the worst possible times. Of course, when a situation had anything to do with Sara, they both had emotions that ran about as high as they could get.

Richard didn’t tell her what he’d done until the next morning. He didn’t know if he’d killed the man or just knocked him out. The only thing he did know was that he’d destroyed the phone the picture was on. She didn’t have the heart at the time to point out there had to be other copies out there.

Once he confessed, she immediately called the hospital, saying she heard there’d been a fight near the bar, and was wondering if anyone had been hurt. What she learned was that a man had been brought in, but his condition didn’t appear to be life threatening. What little relief Diana took from that was outweighed by the fact that the man had come into The Hideaway and asked about Sara at all.

She and Richard should have skipped town then, but she wanted to keep an eye on things. “Just a few days,” she’d said.

Then, the very next night-that night-another man came into the bar, and on his phone was the same picture of Sara. This time she did wait until she got home to call Richard.

“We’re leaving,” she told him.

“What happened?”

“Another one showed up.”

“Where is he?” She could hear what he was thinking in his tone.

“No,” she said quickly. “We’re getting out of town. Now. We leave him alone. Understand?”

She raced through her duplex, going through all her possessions, and grabbed only what she needed. Before leaving, she scrawled a note to her landlord, then added a postscript for her boss as an afterthought. She stuffed the message in an envelope and put it on the kitchen counter. She would have liked to talk to Mary Ralston, The Hideaway’s owner, but there just wasn’t time. Maybe someday she’d call her and explain.

It wasn’t until she was twenty miles out of town that she remembered the picture taped to the underside of her nightstand drawer. There were times when she’d look at it every night before she went to sleep, and other times when she’d go weeks without remembering it was there. It was a comfort, a reminder of the important things.

Though it would be hard for anyone to find, eventually someone would. And if it was the wrong person? She could not let that happen.

She called Richard, and told him to wait for her in Kingman, Arizona.

“You’re going to confront him, aren’t you?” he said.

“Absolutely not.”

“Then what are you doing?”

Ahead she spotted a turnaround in the center medium, and slowed to take it. “Please, just wait for me. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

Braden was even deader than it had been when she’d left not long after two a.m. As she turned onto her street, she noticed a blue Chevy El Camino parked at the curb in front of her house. It had definitely not been there earlier.

Fully alert, she drove past her driveway, parked at the curb half a dozen houses down, and made her way back on foot. She approached the side of the house, and peeked through the kitchen window. From there, she had a partial view through the living room and into the hallway that led to the bedroom.

For a few seconds she saw nothing unusual, then a burst of light briefly cut through the darkness at the far end of the hall. When it came again, its source, a flashlight, moved all the way into the hall, and started heading back toward the living room. She ducked down and leaned against the wall, unsure what to do. Part of her wanted to sprint back to her car and race away, but the picture…she had to get the picture.

As silently as possible, she retreated to the street and ducked behind an old Dodge van parked on the other side.

Nearly twenty minutes later, the front door of her duplex opened. Since her porch light was off, she couldn’t get a good look at the man who stepped out, but as he walked toward the car at the curb, he passed into the light of the corner streetlamp.

It was the guy who’d come into the bar earlier that night. Not a surprise.

She stayed rooted to the spot until long after he’d driven away. Finally, she forced herself to move. Once inside her former home, she spent only as much time as needed to get the picture and get out. A minute later, she headed for the freeway, but just before she reached the on-ramp, she pulled to the side of the road.

There was an opportunity here, she realized. The man would be under the impression she’d left town. Even if he hadn’t read the note, which she believed he must have, the signs of her departure were there. She could use this to her advantage and stay in town, spying on him-where he went, whom he talked to. She could turn the tables on them, know what they were doing, and control the situation instead of being controlled by it.

Her mind made up, she called Richard again, and had him meet her just on the Arizona side of the border. Since locals would know her car, but no one had seen the rental he was using, she wanted to switch vehicles with him. That turned out to be easy. The harder part was convincing him to leave his gun with her.

“If you need a gun, then you need me,” he said.

“It’s just in case.”

“Then you need me, just in case.”

It took nearly all the energy she had left to convince him to go back to Kingman and wait until she contacted him again.

As she drove back into Braden, she donned a hoodie and then searched through town for the El Camino. It wasn’t difficult. The car was easy to spot. As she’d figured, it was parked at one of the town’s motels. She found a spot at the other end of the lot, and dropped her seat back as far as it would go.

It had been a long day, and the one that had already begun was sure to be another. A few hours’ sleep-that would be a good idea.

But just a couple, she thought as her eyelids grew heavy. Just a couple.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Logan rolled over and forced himself to check the time: a few minutes before eight thirty a.m. Total amount of sleep: three and a half hours.

The night before, after he’d confirmed Diana was gone, he had gone through her place room by room. Any guilt he would have felt for the intrusion was negated by the desire to find Sara. Given what Brian Pearson had told him about Diana, and the fact she had run after Logan and Pep showed her Sara’s picture, there was no question in his mind that the two women were connected.

How and why were something else entirely. Unfortunately, Diana’s place revealed few clues on either front. The only real thing of interest was a letter he found on the kitchen counter.

Dear Mr. Hackbarth,

I apologize for not giving notice, but as you must realize, I’ve had to move out in a hurry. I realize I’ve left the place in a mess, so I don’t expect you to return my security deposit. Feel free to sell anything I’ve left and keep what you make.

Again, I apologize, but it couldn’t be helped.

Diana

P.S. If you could, please let Mary Ralston know I won’t be coming back to The Hideaway.

There was no doubt in Logan’s mind-Diana Stockley was gone.

If only he’d known about her connection to Sara when he’d originally talked to her. He’d been so damn close.

After a quick shower, he threw on some clothes and called Callie. Though talking to Diana was currently no