Cold Silence (A High Stakes Thriller) (14 page)

"Yep. I need to get back to him now," she said, backing away from Travis.

Travis watched her. "His uncle brought him back?"

She nodded. "Just went to dinner and a movie."

"I wish you had called. I was worried."

She tripped on a piece of cracked sidewalk and stumbled. "I apologize. It was so late." She shrugged as lightly as she could manage, every muscle in her body quivering. "I really should go. We'll talk soon. Maybe Peter can come over next weekend or something."

Travis raked his hair. "Yeah, sure." He paused and put a hand out as if to add something when she waved and turned her back. She started jogging down the street again, the tears streaming down her face. She hoped the sobs that racked her just looked like normal running, because she couldn't stop them now.

Chapter 13

Travis slammed the door to his Porsche and revved the engine high. He peeled off the street, letting the engine roar though he kept the car in first gear. He needed to drive off this steam. What the hell was wrong with him? He had other things he could do if Cody O'Brien didn't want his help. So she lied. He shouldn't care. He should keep his nose out of her business.

He crawled through the small town, itching to put the pedal to the floor. People crossed in front of him: a woman with two dogs, a man with a jog stroller. He needed open road. He wound through the streets and over the hill down toward the freeway. He hit the on-ramp at sixty in fourth gear and was doing eighty-five by the time he'd shifted into fifth.

The car hummed beneath him like a tank, and for a second with the radio turned off, he could almost imagine that he was on top of the world again. He passed two exits and pulled off to turn around. He knew exactly where he was heading. He couldn't shake it. No. Go home, he told himself.

He hit ninety on the way back, zipped off the freeway in time to make the light, and was on his block in less than two minutes. He stopped at the end of his block and reversed into a small spot between two trucks. From behind the wheel, he watched the street, unmoving.

He smacked the steering wheel. He deserved to have some answers, didn't he? After all, he was the one feeling responsible that R.J. had been picked up under his watch.

He stared out his windshield. "What the hell?" he muttered, revving the engine and pulling onto the street again. He drove to the O'Briens' house, parked and got out of the car.

He'd just make sure everything was okay and then he'd go home and get Peter. He'd give the nanny, Mrs. Pat, the day off, and he and Peter could do something fun. Maybe even go throw the ball around at Golden Gate Park, get some hot dogs. They hadn't done that in forever. That was it. He'd take two minutes to put his mind at ease and then it was off to the park.

Travis shut the door and walked up the small incline to the house where he'd dropped Peter no fewer than ten times. He'd never been invited in. Cody O'Brien barely even opened the door enough for him to look at the foyer. He didn't care. Really, he didn't.

Maybe she just didn't trust men. No surprise there, if what she said about her ex was true. This wasn't about her, he reminded himself. It was simply about his kid's best friend.

He started up the steps. At the door he rang the bell two times quickly and then stepped back and waited.

For a full minute he watched the house silently. He saw her Jeep on the street. Where the hell was she? He rang it again and waited. Okay, so she was in the shower, but then where was the kid?

He moved around the far side of the house in search of a clear window to look through. A gate locked off the back of the house, and he tried to find a way to reach the latch but couldn't. He circled back and rang the doorbell again. Still no answer. If she was like some of the women he'd dated, she could probably spend an hour in the shower. Or maybe she had the hair dryer going. That could take an extra hour. He shook his head. She didn't seem like the hair-dryer type. In fact, she didn't really even seem like the long-shower type.

He followed the small path around the other side of the house and noticed that each window was completely covered. Levolor blinds and shades covered every single angle, even in the middle of the day. He frowned. She seemed awfully paranoid, but maybe it was all just as she said it was.

"Can I help you with something, fellow?"

Travis turned around to see an older black man starting up the O'Briens' path. He pointed to the house. "I was trying to reach Mrs. O'Brien."

"Seems she doesn't want to be reached, don't it?"

Travis smiled. "I suppose it does. Have you seen her today?" He thought about the boy. "Actually, I was trying to talk to her son, R.J. Have you seen him around?"

The man's eyes gave nothing away as he nodded. "Haven't seen a thing, but maybe you ought to just come back later."

Travis stepped forward and offered his hand. "I'm Travis Landon. My son, Peter, is a good friend of R.J.'s."

"Walter Turner," the man said, returning a shake that was definitely U.S. government trained.

Just then, a window on the upstairs level cracked. "Colonel, what are you doing?"

"Just talking to your friend here. He's looking to talk to little man R.J."

Cody O'Brien's scowl shifted from Travis to Walter Turner. "Colonel, please go home. And you, too, Mr. Landon. Home." She pointed like he was a stray puppy.

Travis turned his back on the colonel. "I need to talk to you."

"Yeah, Cody, come on down. I've got a couple questions, too," the colonel added.

There was a short pause and the front door opened just as Travis reached the doormat. Cody pushed him backward and stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind her. She wore a pair of men's boxer shorts and a black Nike T-shirt. Her legs were everything he'd expected: thin and long, with muscle definition that made it clear she'd be a match for himself and most men. He forced himself to move his gaze.

The colonel kept his distance. "Where is R.J.? I thought I'd show him my new ant farm."

"He's sleeping. He had a late night. I'll have him call you later."

The colonel watched her and then nodded. "I'll look forward to it."

Cody watched him go and then turned the same appraising look on Travis.

Travis found it made him want to smile. "Quite a neighborly relationship you've got there."

Her expression lacked even the slightest flicker of a smile. "What the hell do you want?"

"You surprised me this morning, R.J. being home and all. I thought you would have called."

"I told you, it was late, Mr. Landon. I was tired and so was he."

"Travis. You can call me—"

"Thank you for worrying. I do apologize for not calling." She turned back to the house. "I really need to go back inside."

He found his eyes shifting across her backside.

She turned around swiftly and he swung his gaze to the front of the house. "Sure. I wanted to see R.J., check and make sure he was okay." He watched her scan the street behind him.

He turned back to look, but he couldn't see what she'd been watching. When he looked up, her gaze was back on him.

"He's fine, but we're all a bit tired. I can have him call Peter later, if that's okay."

"I think Peter would love it if R.J. could come over tonight."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't think tonight would be a good idea. He's just gotten home. I'm sure you can understand." She turned to open the door. "Thanks for coming by, though." A car drove past and she studied it as the driver craned her head out the window as though looking at the street numbers.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," she said without taking her eyes off the car. "There's the phone. I've got to go." With that, she disappeared inside and he heard the clunk of locks turning.

He hadn't heard the phone ring. He watched the closed door for a minute, waiting for her to open the door and laugh. But her strange behavior was no joke. The woman was paranoid. He shook his head and wondered if she'd hidden R.J. herself so she could put on her little show.

He drove home and set it out of his mind. Sure, the kid had tough breaks, but lots of people grew up with weird parents. He knew all about that firsthand.

* * *

By the time Travis got home, it was after ten and Peter had gone out riding bikes with a couple of the neighborhood kids. Though he had wanted to spend the whole day with Peter, Travis was relieved to have a couple hours to sort out things at work. Plus, he and Peter had made plans for the evening.

Mrs. Pat was making meatloaf for dinner, which he knew would get no points from Peter. The pork chops would have been better, but she'd said they'd be no good today and she'd had to toss them out. But she'd also made Peter's favorite peanut-butter cookies to go with the movie they'd rented for the night—something with Adam Sandler that he knew would make them both hysterical. That was one thing he and Peter had in common—taste in movies. He knew a lot of people would comment on that, but hey, what good was life if you couldn't be a little silly sometimes?

It was about an hour later when he heard Peter tearing down the hall. Travis stood and stretched, ready for some fun.

Peter burst into his office. "Dad, you got to see this!" His shorts were pulled down around his hips in the current fad and he wore a long-sleeved blue shirt beneath a red short-sleeved one.

Travis smiled. "What do I have to see?"

"This website. It's got R.J. on it."

The sound of that name made him frown. Not that again. What he needed to do was find his son a new friend. R.J.'s mom was so overprotective. "R.J. has a website?"

"It's not his website. It's just his picture, but the website's got my name. It's so cool. Come on, Dad. You've got to see it." Peter turned and ran back down the hall and up the stairs.

Travis followed more slowly. The website had Peter's name? He shook his head. Peter wasn't making sense, that was all. Maybe R.J. had posted something about the day's events.

Kids these days had websites and instant messaging, and if Travis hadn't gotten cable internet access set up, he didn't think he'd ever be able to use the phone line in his own house.

When Travis reached Peter's room, his son was sitting at his computer desk, typing something. "You messaging with R.J.?"

He shook his head. "I tried, but he's not on-line." His son closed the pop-up box and displayed the dark screen behind it. "See," he said, pointing to the picture on the screen. "That's R.J."

Travis leaned forward and stared at the picture. Just the darkness of it made his gut sink. He leaned in and squinted. It was a boy standing against a white wall with his hands by his pockets. He looked pale and sickly... and very frightened. Travis scanned the top of the screen for the url. He read it and blinked, sure his eyes were playing tricks on him. But even when he refocused, what he saw was still the same—www.ivegotpeter.com. Peter? "'I've got Peter,'" he said out loud. "How did you get this?"

"The link came to our E-mail address," Peter answered.

"Our E-mail?"

"Our 'PeternTravis' one. It's the one in the school directory and stuff."

A million thoughts came to him at once, but at the center of it was an icy current of guilt. Her child for his. An accident. An error.

But R.J. wasn't missing anymore. Cody had said so herself.

He shook his head. It felt all wrong. "What the hell?"

"I know—isn't it weird, Dad? He's got my jacket on." He pointed to the brown satin Bulls jacket.

Travis's stomach tightened.

"And he was wearing that shirt at school yesterday," Peter said, pointing at the black T-shirt with the Quicksilver logo that showed under the unbuttoned jacket. "I know 'cause it's the one I want. Remember, I showed you in the store?"

Travis stared at the picture as chills washed over him. His hands moved to his son's shoulders. Peter. I've got Peter. He knew the two kids even looked alike. Mrs. Pat mentioned it constantly.
Twins separated at birth,
she always teased them as she handed them each a small bag of snacks and said she couldn't tell them apart. Mrs. Pat joked for their benefit mostly. They weren't that similar, but the coloring... the dark hair and light eyes, their size... Oh, Jesus.