It must’ve been something...or someone prior to that.
At the end of the lunch rush, Libby stood in the kitchen and ate a quick taco.
Rosie poked her head inside the window. “Rob is here to pick you up. He looks anxious to see you, practically hopping from one foot to the next.”
“I didn’t even know he was coming to get me.” She called to Sal, “Sal, can you make a burrito for Rob Valdez? Carnitas, I think.”
Sal grinned. “I know what Mr. Rob likes.”
She wished she did.
Libby smoothed back her hair and traipsed into the dining room, walking in on a few patrons finishing up their lunches. She waved to Rob. “I ordered you a burrito. Did you find out anything about my phone?”
“I did.” He pulled her into the nearest chair. “When I called Paulsen, he told me he fired up the phone he’d used with you and read some texts from you that are important.”
“What is it?” Libby gripped the edge of the table she’d just cleaned.
“He wouldn’t tell me over the phone. He’s heading over here, but he doesn’t want to be seen with us in case someone’s watching you.”
Libby glanced over her shoulder at the door, a chill claiming the back of her neck. “What’s the plan?”
“He’s going to come in here, place an order and leave his phone on a table, opened to the text he wants us to see. That’s it. No other communication. All joking aside, the guy’s spooked.”
“I know how he feels.”
Sal brought Rob’s burrito to him personally in a paper bag. “Didn’t know you were eating in, boss.”
“How are the grandkids, Sal?”
“The oldest is up at U of A.”
“Already? You need to retire, hombre.”
“The wife and I have a little place on the Gulf. Going out there in a few weeks.” Sal saluted and returned to the kitchen.
Rob pulled his burrito out of the bag. “I suppose I should pretend to eat this.”
“Sal would be very disappointed if you didn’t.” She grabbed some napkins from the dispenser and shoved them at Rob, her gaze tracking over his shoulder. “Don’t look now, but Troy just walked in.”
“Keep an eye on him.”
“He’s ordering.” Libby dabbed a napkin on the table. “He has his phone out. He’s talking to Rosie.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “I don’t need a play-by-play.”
“You asked.” Libby scooted her chair back from the table. “He’s walking this way.”
Troy strode past their table on the way to the restrooms without a care in the world.
Libby kicked Rob under the table. “He left his phone at the counter.”
“Go talk to Rosie and get his phone. Bring it back here.” Rob’s head swiveled back and forth. “I don’t think we have to worry. Anyone left in here is a customer from before, right?”
“Yes, but how do I know one of them isn’t spying on me?” She pushed back from the table and hung over the counter. “Hey, Sal, can we get some more salsa?”
She covered Troy’s phone with her hand and slid it into her back pocket.
Rosie appeared from the back, carrying a dish of salsa. “The hot stuff.”
“Thanks, Rosie.” Libby carried the salsa back to the table. Before she sat down, she pulled Troy’s phone from her pocket and tapped it.
A set of text messages in alternating gray and blue popped up under the heading of LJ, which must be Libby James. She read them aloud to Rob in a low voice.
“‘Where are you now?’”
“‘Just crossed the border. I should turn off my phone and get rid of it.’”
“‘Why?’”
“‘I think I’m being followed. Maybe they’re tracking my phone.’”
“‘Info on the phone?’”
“‘Yes, but I have something else to show you.’”
“‘You’re gonna toss your phone?’”
“‘Have a place to drop it off. It’s like a desert campsite for RVs. Unofficial. It’s not far.’”
“‘Go for it. Be careful.’”
The text messages between Troy and LJ ended, and Libby spun the phone on the table. “That’s it. I left the phone at some campsite. How are we ever going to find that?”
Rob had stopped eating his burrito and held it midway between his mouth and the bag on the table. “I know exactly where it is.”
“You do?”
Troy came barreling out of the bathroom, rubbing his hands together. “Is my order up?”
“Another few minutes, sir.” Rosie greeted another couple coming through the door, and Libby swept the phone off the table. She cupped it between her hands.
“Done with this?” She grabbed the salsa and returned to the counter, making a wide berth around Troy.
She held up the salsa with one hand and slipped the phone back onto the counter with the other. “Here you go, Rosie.”
“You hardly touched it, Rob.”
“I’m gonna wrap this up and take it home for later, Rosie.”
As Libby sauntered back to the table, Rob folded the yellow wax paper around his food and stuffed it in the bag. He glanced up at her. “Ready?”
“Ready for anything.”
When she got to the door, she waved to Rosie, who was handing Troy a bag of food. “Bye, Rosie. See you tomorrow.”
“Day off tomorrow, Jane. We’re closed on Sunday.”
She and Rob slipped out the door and made a beeline for his truck. Troy wouldn’t want to run into them outside.
Once inside the truck, Rob started the engine and took off down the street, back toward his house.
“Are you going to tell me where my phone is?”
“There’s an RV campsite, and I use that term loosely, between Paradiso and the border. It’s unofficial and unregulated. Lots of lowlifes there, so I’m not sure how you knew about it and why you’d leave your phone there.”
“Are we just supposed to bust in there and ask for a phone?”
“If you left it there, you left it with someone. You must know someone there.” He cranked up the AC and wiped his brow. “Believe me, strangers do not just waltz onto this property and ask nicely if they can stash their cell phones. A man was murdered there last month, a baby kidnapped.”
Libby covered her mouth.
