Jack stared at the screen and then replayed it two more times before picking up her passport and thumbing through it. She wouldn’t have used her passport to fly to Santa Fe, as it wasn’t required for domestic flights but he was curious. It was very possible that she drove. Regardless, if she managed to mail the tablet, had she returned and placed it here? Bank staff weren’t allowed to add items to a safe deposit box unless designated and by the sound of how serious she was, would she have let staff near the tablet? Dana’s words replayed in his mind. They’ve found me. Who were they? And what was she doing down in Santa Fe? Why had she lied to him?
He spent the next ten minutes browsing the tablet hoping to find more information, anything that might clarify what she’d got herself caught up in but there was nothing. No browsing history, no messages, and she wasn’t logging into any email accounts, which meant she’d been very careful covering her tracks.
Jack pocketed the cash, which amounted to twenty grand, and then slid the Glock into the back of his jeans and covered it with his jacket. He set the tablet to one side while he closed and returned the empty box.
After leaving the bank he caught a ride to his property. The second driver had a similar response to the home as the first. He crumpled a few extra dollars into his hand and watched him drive off down the driveway before turning back to what remained.
A wave of fear, sadness and regret for taking the trip washed over him.
How could he have been so blind? He’d always been so cautious.
The truth was he’d just been pleased to have her back in his life. Waking up beside her was more than enough. Jack turned towards the burnt-out husk and inhaled the smell of charred wood. He trudged in with a heavy heart and gazed around. He spent several minutes sifting through the blackened remains hoping to find anything that could be salvaged. As he did, he placed several calls. First he contacted all the lodgings in Telluride to check if Dana had booked in and then he phoned Dalton.
“Did she like the chain?” were the first words out of his mouth.
“Dalton.” His heart stuck in his throat as he tried to prevent himself from losing it.
“Jack?”
“Uh… it’s all gone.”
“What? What’s gone?”
“The house. Everything. I can’t find Dana. I…”
“Slow down, Jack. Start at the beginning.”
Jack quickly brought him up to speed. When he was done Dalton went quiet on the other end.
“You’ve checked the hotels? She might have booked in.”
“Already done it. She’s not here, Dalton.”
“Then maybe she left town. Maybe…”
“Something’s wrong. I know it.”
“Now Jack, just take a breath and—”
“She was pregnant, Dalton.” He spat the words out there.
Dalton went quiet then replied. “You never told me.”
“It’s early days. She didn’t want me to say anything just in case she had a miscarriage or something like that.”
Jack heard Dalton catch his breath. “Jack, I’m so sorry. Look, if you want to come out here, I know Karen wouldn’t have a problem and…”
“I’ve got to find her.”
Dalton didn’t try to talk him out of it. He knew Jack better than that.
“If you need anything. Call me.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
He hung up. As he crouched on the ground shaking his head something caught his eye. The sun was reflecting off steel. Cautiously Jack stepped over large black beams and made his way across. He reached down and noticed a corner of a photo frame sticking out of the mess. He pulled it out and brushed off the ash. The glass was melted, and most of the photo was gone except a small portion and even that was nothing more than a fragment. He removed it and gazed at the burnt scrap. He recalled the day they’d taken it. It wasn’t long after returning from San Francisco. Jack recalled how peaceful he felt. The warmth of Dana’s body, the sound of the river babbling nearby, and making love to her later that evening.
Jack balled his fist. The good feelings were quickly replaced by rage. Jack threw the photo frame at the crumbled foundation and yelled, his voice echoed through the valley. He scanned the area for the staircase that led to the basement. There was so much rubble covering every inch of the ground, it was hard to tell where one room began and another ended. All the money he’d taken in San Francisco was never placed in a bank; it was kept at the house in a safe to avoid unwanted questions and attention. Jack sifted through the piled-up mess for close to fifteen minutes before he pulled back a charred piece of wood to reveal the stone staircase. Climbing down into the darkness he used his phone as a flashlight to illuminate the way. He coughed several times and squinted into the darkness as he made his way inside. Not much had been spared. It was hard to recognize what was furniture and what was just piles of ash. Everything was either burned badly or completely gone. At the far side of the wall he washed the light over where the safe was hidden. The false wall was gone,
