“About an hour and a half away.”
“Cut it to an hour, but call me before you get there and I’ll tell you exactly where to go.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Were you able to learn anything new?”
“He’s definitely the guy’s father.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Get anything else out of him?”
“No,” Clausen said, his voice lowering to a whisper. “He’s not being very cooperative. I could try something…more aggressive.”
Erica considered the idea. “No. Not yet.” She paused before adding, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t make the threat.”
She hung up, switched to the monitoring screen, and waited for the dot to move again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Harp had never had a gun pointed at him in his life, at least not until he reached the bottom of the staircase at the Desert Inn Motel.
“You open your mouth even to breathe and I pull the trigger. Understand?”
The man standing in front of Harp was the same one he’d talked to in the hospital cafeteria just a little while earlier. Harp nodded.
“Good. We’re going to walk to my car and go for a ride. You first.”
Harp remained riveted to the bottom step. “I’m not getting in your-”
“I said, don’t open your mouth. That’s your only warning. Let’s go.”
Harp knew he had no choice. Even if he’d been younger, he’d have been no match for the man. Unlike his son, Harp had never had any military training, and the only real fight he’d ever been in was in fifth grade. That had ended quickly with him on the ground and Donald Yeager standing over him, laughing.
The car turned out to be a dark blue sedan. A second man was sitting behind the wheel, his face blank as Harp climbed reluctantly into the backseat. The gunman followed and shut the door.
“Let me see that,” the man said.
He reached out and grabbed the copy of
“No!” Harp said, trying to get it back.
The man frowned at him. “Sit back.”
As their car pulled away, he leafed through the book and then tossed it on the floor.
“Please, can I just hold it?” Harp asked.
“So you can try to hit me with it later? I don’t think so.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Shut up.”
No one said anything else as they drove through town before getting on the interstate heading east.
The silence continued until they reached Arizona, when the gunman looked over and said, “So, Mr. Harper, perhaps you should tell us what you were doing in Braden.”
Harp’s initial fear had ebbed. Now he felt a surge of anger. “This is kidnapping,” he said. “And across state lines. Do you realize what kind of trouble you two are in?”
“Seems to me you’re the only one in trouble here.” The man adjusted his hand holding the gun. “What were you doing in Braden?”
“None of your business.”
“What about Logan?”
“Logan? You leave him alone!”
The man paused. “Why did your…son leave town?”
“He had to take care of some business.”
The man smiled as if Harp had just told him something important. “Why is he interested in Diana Stockley?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of her.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” Harp replied.
“What were you doing in Braden?”
Harp repeated his previous statement, and kept repeating it with each successive question, no matter what it was. How long this went on, Harp had no idea, but it seemed like forever. Finally the gunman told the driver to pull over.
They took an exit that led to a deserted road in the middle of nowhere, and stopped along the side.
“Watch him,” the gunman said. He got out of the car and raised a phone to his ear.
The driver turned so he could see into the backseat. He grinned as he reached under his jacket and pulled out a gun, aiming it at Harp.
It was overkill as far as Harp was concerned. As much as he would have liked to run, there was nowhere for him to go. And that was if he was able to run. He was almost eighty, for God’s sake. The best he could manage was a medium-paced walk. The others wouldn’t even break a sweat catching him.
He glanced at the floor. Could he at least chance grabbing Tom’s book? He wanted to more than anything, but he doubted the driver would be too receptive if he tried.
Outside, the gunman paced until he finished his call. “Let’s go,” he said as he climbed back in.
They reentered the freeway.
“Mr. Harper,” the gunman said. “Let’s try this again. What were you doing in Braden?”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
The gunman gave him his now familiar grin. “That phone call was an update from one of our colleagues. I thought perhaps you’d like to know what’s being done to your son.”
“What?” Harp said, confused.
“Logan is being as uncooperative as you’ve been so far. So it looks like our friend will be forced to use stronger methods.”
“What do you mean? He’d better not hurt him!”
“Or what?”
Harp hesitated, then said, “I don’t believe you. Logan wouldn’t let himself get caught.”
“I don’t think anyone ever plans on getting caught, but your son and his friend…what was his name? Martin? Things didn’t turn out the way they anticipated.”
Harp’s skin grew cold as blood rushed to his heart.
“So, I guess it’s up to you. You cooperate and everyone will be fine. You don’t? Well, I’m sure you can imagine.” He paused. “What were you doing in Braden?”
Harp stared at the back of the seat in front of him. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that just because he cooperated, nothing would happen to Logan and Dev, but he knew for certain something would if he didn’t. Two choices, neither of them good.
“We’re…we’re helping a friend.”
“To do what?”
Harp let out a defeated breath. “To find his wife.”
CHAPTER FORTY
