Killer Mountain

“No. Behind his,” said Cilla quietly. “There probably wasn’t any open parking space between him and her car or she’d have taken it.”

“Eh?”

“So he drives beyond and takes the first opening that isn’t so close to her car that she’ll see him.” Cilla looked around. “Someplace behind us, at least a dozen cars should be hers, unless someone picked it up.”

Wally glared at her but marched along with his hands clasped behind his back as they retraced their steps around a corner. Cilla called, “Here’s a white rental.”

It was a Dodge and had the shiny look of most rental cars.

“With your hippy past you must know all about breaking into cars,” said Carver.

Cilla turned the door handle. It opened. “Yes. Quite a bit.”

“Humphf. Hand me the keys.”

Cilla crawled in. “Surprise, surprise. They’re here.”

“You don’t park rentals at airports,” said Wally, once more the Kindly Master. He opened the trunk. “You turn them in,” he explained generously. “Unless she saw no reason to, as she’d never be back.”

“Wouldn’t they arrange for another agent to pick it up?”

“If it is hers, and if she is indeed connected with the FBI.”

Cilla paused. “You think she isn’t?”

“The car is still here.”

Cilla checked the carpet under the seats, put her fingers down their backs, opened the glove compartment. “There’s nothing here.”

“Nor here.” He closed the trunk and stood looking at it. “Damn.”

“Well, come on,” said Cilla.

“What...where?”

“To turn it in.”

The glare met only Cilla’s back as she started the car.

Cilla handed the keys to the uniformed man behind the counter.

“Mileage and gas?”

“3164 and it shouldn’t be down more than 3 gallons.”

“Henry.” The clerk gave the keys to a boy in a sweater and insulated vest.

“Let me have the slip. I want to put it on a different credit card.”

The man behind the counter looked up. “You paid cash, Miss Fender.”

“Of course. I’d forgotten...You must have taken my card imprint as deposit.”

The clerk’s eyes were blank. “As soon as Henry checks it out you’ll have your five hundred dollar deposit returned to you.”

“We’ve just come from the funeral parlor,” growled Wally, putting an arm around Cilla. She froze at the feel of his bony arm through the heavy coat. “And then her purse was stolen. Girl’s gone all to pieces. Let me have the paperwork.”

“There isn’t any. Everything was cash. I’ll just need her signature for the deposit return.”

“I guess I didn’t make myself clear. Dora’s driver’s license was in her purse. I need its number to have it replaced. You obviously have it or you wouldn’t know her name.”

The man behind the counter studied Wally for a moment. “All she needs is her name.”

“And in her state it will take two weeks to get a new license. She was on the phone to them earlier. With the number they can fax a temporary permit.”

The clerk was undecided. He was obviously uncomfortable with the situation.

“Her flight takes off within the hour. She has to drive home from her airport. If by chance she is in an accident without a license, liability for whatever happens to her may well attach itself to you.”

He tightened his lips. Then, keeping the papers so Wally couldn’t see them, read, “FENDERT451N7.” He put the file out of sight and folded his hands on the counter as though saying, `if you think you’re getting any more out of me, think again.’

Wally wrote down the letters and numbers. “Let’s go, Dora.” He took Cilla by the arm and went out of the office.

“Hey, your deposit!”

“Keep it for your trouble,” said Wally, closing the door behind him.

“We don’t know the state,” said Cilla.

“Not yet. Let me have your cell phone.”

“I never use them. I don’t like people calling me whenever they want.”

Carter sighed and went looking for a telephone. Ten minutes later he turned to Cilla. “Let’s get moving. We’ve got a plane to catch, and the tickets are waiting for us.”

“To where?”

“Washington.”

“D.C.?”

“State.”

Cilla looked at him. “We might be gone days! I’d better call Kurt.”

“What will you tell him?”

“I don’t know...Whatever I tell him I’m telling Frances.”

“A problem developed with the order for your new lift.”

She thought a moment. “Production difficulties could have come up. I might have to fly to Germany,” She paused. “What will the FBI be guarding when we’ve all disappeared?”

“Come on. They’re boarding now. You can call later.”

“Do we know where in Washington?” Cilla asked as they broke into a trot.

“Olympia.”

“How did you find out?”

“Friend at Motor Vehicle,” Wally puffed. “The tech age!” It was said like an epithet. “Anybody can learn anything about anyone.”

Chapter 24

They drove by the house on North Garrison in their rented Buick. It was close to dark, yet no lights burned in the one-story ranch.

“Here it is.” Cilla studied the house from the driver’s window.

“Yes. Looks like they’re out.”

“Perhaps they were never here. Maybe she didn’t use her own house to hide Loni. For fear it could be traced.”

“That’s giving them too much credit. Three thousand miles. Who’d find them here?”

“We did.”

“We had somebody to follow.”

Cilla stopped the car at the end of the street, still in sight of the house, and turned to Carver. “That possibility must have occurred to them.”

The old man looked back down the street. They were parked over a block away, facing the gray ranch but behind two other cars. “I’d have someone in a nearby house to keep watch for strangers.”

“So we can’t arouse suspicion from anyone in the neighborhood.” Cilla bit a knuckle. “Do I sell girl scout cookies?”

“No one to sell to. We wait.”

An hour passed. And then two. Cilla ran the engine every fifteen minutes for warmth. She’d never minded