the former Marine was still standing near the car, staring down the street.
“What is it?” Logan asked.
Dev didn’t move for a moment, then he turned and walked toward the building. “Probably nothing,” he said. He motioned at the door. “Shall we?”
The temperature inside was a good thirty degrees cooler than out-almost too cold, in Logan’s opinion. The real estate office consisted of five desks in two rows of two with the odd desk centered up front. Three were occupied.
The woman sitting at the one nearest the door smiled as they walked in. “Welcome to Desert Horizons Realty. How can I help you gentlemen?”
Logan smiled back. “We’re looking for Mark Hackbarth. Is he in?”
Before the woman could say anything, a man sitting at a desk in the back jumped up. “I’m Mark.”
He walked toward them, all smiles and energy, and thrust out his hand. As Logan shook it, he could sense desperation hiding behind Hackbarth’s welcoming demeanor. Given all the FOR SALE signs in town, it seemed likely that trying to sell real estate here was like sucking blood from a dried-out corpse. The man had to be on the edge of financial collapse.
“How are you doing? Mark Hackbarth. And you are?”
“Logan Harper. This is my associate, Dev Martin.”
“Associate? Well, okay,” Hackbarth said, as if it were immensely interesting. “Why don’t you come on back and have a seat.”
When they reached his desk, Hackbarth dragged two guest chairs over and motioned for Logan and Dev to take them.
“So, Mr. Harper, Mr. Martin, what can I do for you?” Hackbarth said as he dropped down in his own chair.
Logan set Diana’s envelope on the desk, Hackbarth’s name facing up. “To start, you can see what’s inside this.”
Hackbarth’s happy expression turned perplexed, then concerned. He leaned back. “Is it a subpoena or something like that?”
“No. Nothing like that. At least I don’t think so.”
“What is it?”
“That’s what we’re hoping you can tell us. We found it leaning against the door of a house we went to check.”
“What house?”
“Part of a duplex,” Logan said. “On Sage Lane.”
“At the corner?”
Logan nodded.
“I own that.”
“Then I guess that explains why the envelope has your name on it.”
Hackbarth looked at him for a second, then down at the envelope. Finally, he pulled open the flap and removed the letter. As he read, he grew visibly upset. When he reached the bottom, he put it down.
“One moment,” he said. He rose and walked rapidly back to the woman at the front of the room. Though he was obviously trying to keep his voice down, it was easy enough for Logan and Dev to hear him. “Call Frank. Have him go over to the duplex and check unit two. I think my tenant just skipped.”
“Which one’s that?” the woman said.
“Just call Frank.”
When he returned, he was having little luck masking his anger. “You found this against the door?”
“Yes,” Logan said.
Hackbarth shook his head and muttered, “Great.” He then looked at Logan again, his eyes narrowing. “So why exactly were you at my duplex?”
“We were looking for Ms. Stockley.”
“Why was that?”
Logan paused and looked briefly at Dev as if he were gauging whether he should say anything more. When he did speak, he drew it out, like there was more to what he was saying than the words coming out of his mouth. “She borrowed some money from our corporation, and has missed the last couple payments.”
Right on a cue they hadn’t discussed, Dev leaned forward, his face impassive.
“I guess you could say we’re on a collection call,” Logan continued. “My father isn’t going to be very happy when I tell him she’s gone.”
“Your father isn’t the only one,” Hackbarth said.
Logan was silent for a moment. “While I’m sympathetic with your situation, it’s of no importance to me.
“Whoa,” Hackbarth said. “I don’t have any idea where she went.”
Logan kept his gaze steady and his voice calm, but direct. “Of course you don’t. If you did and didn’t tell us, that would just be stupid. And you’re not stupid. I can see that.”
The fingertips of Hackbarth’s left hand began to tap nervously on the desk. “I’d love to help you, but I’ve got my own problem to deal with right now.”
“That’s where we’re in luck. At the moment, our problems are similar,” Logan said. “And the few minutes you spend helping me would be helping yourself.”
“I don’t see what I could possibly do for you that would help.”
Logan allowed himself a quick, controlled smile. “I assume Ms. Stockley filled out a rental application, and perhaps other documents containing personal information.”
Hackbarth looked really nervous now. “Well, of course, but I’m not sure if I should-”
“Mark?” the woman up front yelled.
They all looked over. She was standing at her desk, a phone held to her ear.
“Frank was in the neighborhood, so he’s there now,” she went on. “Definitely looks like your renter cleared out. Says the place is a mess.”
Hackbarth took a deep, seething breath, and turned back to Logan. “Let me get her file for you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Erica sat behind the wheel of her car and fumed. They had missed the woman by what couldn’t have been more than a few hours.
Though Erica had made good time at the rental agency at LAX, and Clausen and Markle-her two men-had arrived on schedule, it was still after four thirty in the morning when the three of them finally arrived in Braden.
She had decided during the drive that they could no longer risk simply observing the woman. Either the bitch knew something or she didn’t, and now that someone else was snooping around, Erica couldn’t prolong this irritation. She needed it sewn up, and she needed it done now.
That’s why she was here, to make sure no one screwed up this time.
Half an hour before they arrived in town, she had called Cecil Frisk, the man who had been watching Diana, and told him to meet her at the woman’s house. Though Frisk had obviously been half asleep when they talked, he was wide awake and parked a block away from the woman’s place when Erica and her team arrived.
It should have gone nice and smooth. At nearly five a.m., even a bartender would be asleep.
But when they went in, instead of finding Diana in her bed, she wasn’t even in the house.
How the hell did that happen?
Erica was the one who found the note. When she read it, she’d come very close to ripping it up on the spot. Extreme self-control was the only thing that helped her return it to its envelope.
It had taken her over two years to find Diana again.
