Finding Amy (4 page)

“
Did you get a prescription for that bad cold you had a few weeks ago? Maybe they were searching for drugs.” Bess eased Amy back into the lobby and sat on a bench.

Amy
looked up the stairs where Stan had disappeared. “I bought over the counter medicine.”

“Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against you?”
Bess asked.

Carson’s handsome face crept into her mind. But he
’d been with her tonight. Where had he been before he arrived at the bar after eleven? Why would he want to break into her apartment? Unless . . .Amy opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it and shook her head.

“There’s no one in the apartment now.” Both women looked up to see Stan at the bottom of the stairs holding a Colt
.45 at his side. “You want to go up and see if anything is missing?”

The two women followed him upstairs. Amy’s hand flew to her mouth
as she gazed around the room in horror. There were books that had been pulled from the bookcase, scattered all over the floor. Sofa cushions were tipped up against the back of the couch, drawers on the armoire were pulled out and their contents strewn everywhere. Amy wandered through the one bedroom apartment, stepping over clutter and checking the damage. Pots and pans littered the floor in the tiny kitchen. Even the ice trays had been removed from the refrigerator and were melting water on the counter top. She picked up some of her meager positions and placed them anywhere she could find a spot. Every room had been searched. Amy leaned over for a small sauce pan and turned around to see Stan and Bess following her every move.

“I don’t think anything is missing.” She set the pan on the stove and wrung her hands together. “The most valuable thing I own
, here in Cody is around my neck.” Her hand went up to caress the three carat, five star diamond necklace her parents had given each twin on their eighteenth birthday. It never left her neck. She squeezed it so tight the points made imprints into the palm of her hand.

“I don’t see anything missing,
” Amy repeated in order to have some sound in the room. Stan and Bess watched in silence.

Stan scratched his day-
old beard. “The lock on the door isn’t broken. Someone used a lock pick or had a key. Why would someone break in and not take anything?”

Amy averted her attention, avoiding their eyes
. She had told Stan an ex-boyfriend had been stalking her in Galveston. She had lived with David and they planned to marry until his extracurricular lunch-time activities caught up with him. Amy had come home early from work and caught him in bed with a nurse from the hospital. Since Amy owned the condo, he moved out, but that didn’t stop him from stalking her and trying to convince Amy they were made for each other. When Amy caught him in her condo, trying to log into her computer, she ordered him out and threatened to press charges. He begged for financial help since he had lost his job.

“Amy
you make three times what I make. Can’t you help me out until I find another job?” he had pleaded. Amy had harbored a lot of guilt for not helping, but it had taken a comment from Jamie for her to see helping him would do more harm than good.

“Let him fig
ure it out,” Jamie had told her.

“
You can’t stay here tonight,” Bess said, interrupting Amy’s thoughts. “You’re coming with us. Bess stepped over books and put her arm around Amy’s shoulder.

“
I don’t want to impose. I can get a motel room.” The thought of staying in the apartment terrified her.

“No
, ma’am,” Stan insisted, taking Amy’s arm and leading her into the bedroom. “Now gather your things. I’ll call a locksmith in the morning and send the cleaning crew over to straighten up this mess. But you’re coming with us tonight.”

Amy didn’t argue further. She didn’t wa
nt to stay in the apartment and with trembling hands; she grabbed her duffle bag and threw in her toiletries, extra clothes, a jacket, boots and socks. She carried the bag out into the hall. Stan locked the apartment, picked up the bag and walked the ladies to the truck.

****

The hooded man watched from across the street, hidden in the shadows of the same warehouse where Carson had stood. He hadn’t found anything in the apartment to tell him where to locate the hidden sister. The old lady across the hall had spotted him leave and stopped him.

“What are you doing in Amy’s apartment?”
Tilting her head to the side, she raised her eyebrows and glared at him.

Max
thought he handled it well. “I’m Amy’s brother. She told me to pick up some of my things. Do me a favor? Don’t tell her I came by. I want to see if she misses any of my stuff.” He laughed.

The old woman
stood there in her robe, holding that damn cat against her chest and squinted at him over the top of her glasses before chuckling, “I won’t say a word.”

When he got half-way down the stairs, he heard her door slam. He thought for a minute, he would have to silence her permanently, but she had finally agreed to keep quiet. He
couldn’t afford any trouble before he found the other sister.

Where would Amy
keep her address? He couldn’t log into her damn computer. He tried but had never been comfortable on them. There had to be information on her whereabouts somewhere. He would just have to make her tell him and then he’d kill her. Killing gave him a thrill he had experienced only a couple of times since going to work for Martin Kenner. To watch a victim squirm and beg for their life set his blood to boil. Max didn’t like the sharp shooter assassinations. He couldn’t see his intended’s eyes when they first realized they were going to die. The biggest thrill he ever got had been that woman in Atlanta he choked to death. Her eyes almost bugged out, her face turned blue and drool ran from her mouth. Damn, that had been almost better than sex. He didn’t know she was Martin’s first wife, until much later. It didn’t matter though. He had a killer instinct and if Martin wanted him to blow someone away, he would. For a price.

Strolling toward his black SUV, Max smiled at the thought and crawled inside. Slipping the key in the ignition, the engine purred to life. He cranked the heater up full blast. He knew Carson had already left for the motel and his truck would be in the parking lot. Max reached into the glove compartment and retrieved the tracking device
s. Now all he had to do is plant them.

****

Carson plopped over onto his stomach. He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured Amy’s innocent face. He admired her determination to protect her sister and niece at all costs. Even to the point of putting her career on hold. Carson couldn’t figure out why they didn’t go to the police in the first place. And why is Martin so hell bent on killing his wife and daughter? That would put another unsolved disappearance on the records that could be tied to the man. From all indications, Kenner adored his daughter. Surely he didn’t want her killed. Then again it’s hard to know what goes through a criminal’s mind. If Carson’s instincts were correct, Martin had a drug lord pressuring him for the money Jamie took. Money does weird things to people, especially if it belongs to some really bad people.

Carson gave up trying to sleep
, grabbed a bottle of water from the tiny refrigerator the hotel had in each room, and reached for his cell phone. Dialing the number he knew by heart, he counted the rings until Rex picked up.

“This better be good. It’s five in
the morning and I don’t do dawn,” the familiar voice of his brother grumbled.

“Good morning to you, too, baby brother.” Carson grinned.

“Hang on. Let me get to the other room,” Rex whispered. “Why didn’t you call when you came in? Or maybe you’re just coming in. Am I right?”

Carson knew Rex ha
d a woman with him. He usually did. He could go through women faster than a kid could go through a candy bar. Women adored him for his boyish good looks and smooth charm. “Who is she this time?”

“What do you mean, ‘this time’? I’m still with Candy
, you moron. Now, why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?”

“I miss you, too.
Besides you called me, remember? I need you to do something for me, though, and I need it quick. See if you can get me a name and photograph of the man Martin sent after his wife. If you have a mug shot, send it to my phone. I don’t like looking over my shoulder and not recognizing who’s following me.”

Rex had been with the FBI for five years
and the brothers were partners of their horse ranch. They were both on vacation to get ready for the Houston Horse Show when Carson had been given this assignment.

“You mean there’s another player in the game?”

“Yeah. According to our sources Martin has sent one of his men after the wife and the captain thinks it’s not just to bring her home. My gut feeling is telling me the same.” Carson drew a line with his finger in the condensation on his water bottle and watched it puddle on the night stand.

“The r
angers have pretty much everything the FBI has. There isn’t any information in your files?”

“No. I’m thinking this guy might be the same one who helped the first wife disappear
.” He stood and paced back and forth at the foot of the bed.

“Oh Lord.
You and your instincts can get us killed. You remember the time—,”

“I know.”
Carson interrupted. “Just get the information for me, will you?”

“
Of course. Can I go back to bed, now?”

Carson
walked over to the window in his room and pushed the curtain aside. Snow had covered the parking lot in a solid white layer. A chill ran over his body. It couldn’t be this cold in Texas. “No. You need to get up and put hay out for the stock. What do you think I pay you for?”

“You ain
’t paid me. Remember? Besides, Mom cracks the whip on the hands to take care of all that.”

Carson laughed and hung up. He and his
younger brother left the supervision of the ranch hands to their mother who had her own home on the property. Their father had died of a heart attack three years ago and left the ranch to the four of them. Carson and Rex had built it into the successful business it had become. Their younger brother would be joining them next year when he graduated from veterinary school.

Carson
went to take a shower. When he came out, the blinking red light on the hotel phone caught his eye. Rex must’ve gotten the information already
.
Grabbing his last pair of starched Wranglers, he had to remember to pick up the clothes he dropped off at the cleaners yesterday or buy new jeans. Slipping into a white shirt and picking up the phone, Carson dialed the front desk.

Rex
had called back.
That was quick.
He punched in the code and Rex answered.

“Where the hell did you go? I got the information you wanted
‘quick’
and you were gone,” Rex grumbled.

“
I went to take a shower, okay? Good grief. What’d you find out?”

“
Greg called me right back. He checked the database for anything and came up with a name that has popped up several times and is associated with Keener. Let me tell you, Martin Keener isn’t fooling around. This guy’s name is Max Guthrie and has a rap sheet that takes up a folder three inches thick. He’s been in and out of jail since the age of thirteen. We can’t prove it, but he’s the person Martin sends to do all of his dirty work. I’m sending a mug shot to your phone. You need to get the girl in protective custody and get the hell out of there, big brother.”

“I thought so.”
Carson rubbed the bridge of his nose and digested this new information. “I need to find the sister and head home. Did he say anything else?”

“Yeah. He’s the prime suspect in the disappearance
of Martin’s first wife, Marsha, just like you said. But the problem is that body has never been found.”

Chapter 4

Carson hung up the phone and stared at the floor. The sisters were in a lot of danger. He had to gain Amy’s confidence. Fast. He needed to get the sisters back to Texas as soon as possible before word got out Martin’s wife would testify against him. That is if she agreed to testify. Not having met her, he couldn’t be sure how she would react. There had to be a reason she ran. Did she know her husband is suspected in the disappearance of his first wife? Carson had to convince the sisters it would be in their best interest to put Martin in prison. Carson needed to get to Starbucks and meet Amy.

****

Amy opened her eyes and didn’t recognize her surroundings until the horror of the night before flooded her memory. She remembered going home with Stan and Bess and drinking the shot of Jack Daniels Stan had poured. The next thing she knew, daylight flooded through the window beside the bed in Stan’s guest bedroom. Slipping her legs over the side, her bare feet touched the cold hardwood floor. She dug through her duffle bag for wool socks and warm-ups. By the time she had dressed, there were goose bumps on her arms and she shivered from the cold. Coffee. She needed coffee.

Amy crept down the stairs
in her stocking feet so as not to wake the others and entered the kitchen. The coffee pot sat on the counter and someone had it ready to turn on. Thank goodness she didn’t have to rummage through Stan’s cupboards to find the coffee. The aroma quickly filled the kitchen. Amy found a cup, filled it and walked over to the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard. A fine powder of snow covered the ground. The beauty of the snow overwhelmed her, but she knew if it kept up she wouldn’t be able to travel. Seeing Jamie and Trish may have to wait until spring. She had been anticipating a snowy Christmas with her sister and niece and if an opportunity came up, she would go. Besides, cutting through Yellowstone would put her at Jamie’s cabin in a few hours.

The most pressing thing
weighing on her mind now was the ransacked apartment. If one of Martins’ men had broken in, she would have to move. Amy shivered at the thought. She liked the people in Cody and didn’t want to leave. It might be necessary, though. Muted voices trickled down the stairs and grew louder as they approached the kitchen. Stan and Bess entered, holding hands. Bess, wrapped in a fluffy, pick bathrobe, took a seat at the table.

“Morning.
Did you get any sleep?” Stan reached above the coffee pot, grabbed two cups, and poured.

“Yes, t
hank you. That shot of whiskey helped.”

Stan
set a cup in front of Bess and sat next to her. He motioned for Amy to sit. “Bess and I discussed it last night and if you want, you’re welcome to move into the apartment above the garage. There’s plenty of room and we have a security system. I know you won’t be bothered out here with us close. The apartment isn’t connected to the house so you would have privacy.”

Stan lived a few miles outside of Cody on the side of Fortress Mountain. Amy had been to his log cabin once when he
’d asked her to drive out and pick something up. She had taken the time to tour the house. Stan called it a cabin, but Amy called it a mansion. It stood three stories and included a home theater and game room in the basement. There were two fireplaces, six bedrooms and five baths. Amy’s parents had a large home but nothing compared to this. There were five people to fill her family’s home. Stan had no one. Later, she had asked why he owned a house so big.

“It’s my dream home, Amy. I built it myself and I love it.” He
’d leaned over, cupped one hand around his mouth, and whispered, “Who knows, I might marry Bess one day.”

Stan’s statement jarred her back to the present.
“I appreciate your generosity, Stan, but I think I’ll stay where I am for now. But please, don’t take the offer away. I might accept in the near future.”

“Then why don’t you take th
e weekend off. Take a trip up to the mountains, relax, enjoy yourself. Get away from the problems around here. Just disappear for three or four days. I’ll take care of your apartment and it will be just like new when you come back.”

Amy perked up at
Stan’s suggestion. If she left now, she could see her sister before the heavy snow closed the roads. “Are you sure? We were really busy last night. What if you get swamped?”

“That’s what he keeps me around for.” Bess smiled
, lovingly at Stan. “You go on. I’ll help tight pockets here with the bar. We’d like for you to take my Jeep. It has four-wheel drive and the chains are in the back. The snow isn’t supposed to get worse, but in case it does, you’ll be safer than you would in your Mustang.”

“If the break-in is
someone after you, they won’t be looking for Bess’ car.” Stan added.

Because of the
ex-boyfriend story, Stan hadn’t asked any questions regarding the break-in which eased Amy’s mind. She didn’t have to lie.

Amy smiled at the couple
across the table. “You two have it all figured out and I think I’ll take you up on your offer.”

****

Carson sat in Starbucks sipping the black coffee and watching the door. Her usual time to arrive at Starbucks came and went without as much as a glimpse of Amy. She had never deviated from her schedule. Glancing at the clock on the wall for the hundredth time, it read one minute passed the last time he’d checked. Thirty minutes past her schedule. Something had happened. She may have changed her mind about meeting him. Or worse, she could be hurt? Had Martin’s goon found her? Every scenario Carson could think of clouded his mind. He had no idea what kept her but he intended to find out. He intended to tell her the truth. No more hiding in the shadows. He wanted to see her. Hold her. Protect her. Make love to her. And couldn’t, with a clear conscious, do any of it without coming clean.

Leaving the cup on the table, he rushed out of the shop and broke into a run toward her apartment.
An unfamiliar white van with Cody Locksmith written on the side had parked behind Amy’s red Mustang. His heart rate accelerated. Behind the van, and parked at an angle to the curb, sat a beat up blue Chevrolet pick-up full of cleaning supplies. Carson peered inside both vehicles. When he didn’t find anyone, he entered the building and took the stairs two at a time until he reached Amy’s floor. Her door stood open and two older men in overalls and bright colored flannel shirts worked intently on the lock. He stepped closer. The men were concentrating on the task at hand and didn’t notice him.

“
Excuse me, can you tell me where the resident, who lives here, is today?” He pasted his best smile on his face.

An
older man that looked to be in his late fifties stopped working and glanced at Carson. “Nope.” He lowered his head and continued his task.

Glancing around the workers,
ciaos inside the apartment caused Carson’s stomach to twist into a knot. The small amount of coffee he had consumed earlier, threatened to reappear. He couldn’t see the floor for the debris strewn everywhere. A young man, holding a broom and a large industrial dust pan, swept the books, papers and knick-knacks to one side and his partner picked up the items to place them back in shelves against the wall. Carson’s hands balled into fist.

“What happened?” h
e asked through clenched teeth. “Is Amy hurt?”

The
older man frowned. “Mister, I have no idea. I have a job order to replace these locks and that’s what I’m doing.”

Rage cursed through Carson’
s body and he stepped toward the worker but the squeak of a door opening behind him saved the worker from a tongue lashing. When Carson turned, a large, elderly woman, wearing a colorful caftan and pink foam curlers in her white hair, glared at him. “What’s all this ruckus about?”

Carson relaxed his hands, smiled
, and removed his Stetson. “Ma’am, I didn’t mean to disturb you but I’m looking for Amy. We were supposed to meet for coffee this morning and she never showed.”

The old woman studied him for a second, before answering.
“Amy came in earlier, packed a suitcase and left. I had gone down to pickup my mail and found her loading a bag into a white jeep. She waved to me, and drove off. I don’t know where she went.”

“Did you see anyone with her
?”

The old woman glanced past him as if in deep thought
, and shook her head. “No, I didn’t. She left in a hurry. I didn’t even have time to tell her about her brother stopping by last night.”

“Her brother? What time
was that?”

Glancing down at the cat
meowing around her feet, the woman raised her head. “Oh, around nine. That’s when Castle comes on and I never miss Castle. He’s so handsome.”

Carson smiled. “Yes
, ma’am. Can you tell me what Amy’s brother looks like?”

“Oh, I don’t know
 . . .kind of ordinary, not as tall as you. A big guy but not fat. He asked me not to tell her because he wanted to see if she would notice that he’d picked up his stuff.”

A phone rang from inside
the woman’s apartment. She looked over her shoulder. “Oh, dear. I’ve got to go. That’s my friend, Mavis calling.” She slammed the door.

Defeated, Carson
walked toward the stairs.
Now what?
He needed to talk to Stan. Maybe he knew where Amy went. If he knew Stan’s last name, he could run him through the data base and get a home number. There might be an emergency number on the door at Cowboy Bills. That would be the quickest way to get in touch with the owner.

Carson
rounded the corner and when the workers could no longer see him, he bolted down the stairs and across the street to his truck. He drove the short distance to Cowboy Bills, parked on the wrong side of the street in front of the bar and hopped out. On the inside corner of the door, in bold red letters, were three numbers to call in case of emergencies. Jotting them down, he went back to the truck, grabbed his cell phone and dialed the first number.

Carson
drove away from Cowboy Bills to the nearest parking spot, pulled in and waited for someone to answer. After eight rings and no answer, he flipped the phone shut, and dialed the second number.

“You have reached Bessie Gorman. I’m unavailable at the moment so please leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

Carson disconnected without leaving a message and dialed the third number.

“Cody police department,” a
woman answered.

“I’m sorry. I must’ve
punched in the wrong number.” Carson hung up. The first number would be Stan’s. He shoved the truck into reverse, and drove to IHOP.

Carson stood in line at the full
restaurant until it came his turn to be seated. He made a quick scan of the interior, hoping to spot Amy but doubting she would be here. His years of training made it second nature to not leave anything out. After being seated, he placed his order and tried the number again. Still no answer. He pitched the phone on the table, causing a loud bang that attracted the attention of the couple at the next table. “Sorry.” He apologized.

Carson stared out the window and
drummed his fingers on the hard table top keeping a steady beat to the soft music playing through the intercom.

“Excuse me.”
The man next to him leaned toward Carson. “Having a bad day?” he glared at Carson’s drumming fingers.

“
Sorry. It didn’t start off well.” Carson shifted his arms and folded his hands together.

The snow outside had
now stopped, leaving a brown and black slushy mess that splashed onto the sidewalk with every passing car. Clear blue skies held no hint of clouds to threaten the forecast. Carson shoved his food around with his fork and stared out the window at the Wyoming country. The evergreens reminded him of the Piney Woods of East Texas; where huge oaks and towering pines grew. He wanted to go home and the sooner he completed this mission, the sooner that would happen. He pulled the cell phone from his jacket and dialed Stan.

“Hello.” Carson sat up straight when he recognized Stan’s gruff voice.

“Good morning Stan, this is Carson. I hope I’m not disturbing you but I can’t find Amy. Have you heard from her?” He knew his statements were running together but couldn’t control the anxiousness that had taken him over.

The hesitation
from the other end of the line worried Carson. He intended to fill Stan in on the trouble following Amy, but he didn’t want to do it over the phone. Before he could insist on meeting Stan somewhere to talk, Stan answered, “She’s fine. Why don’t you drive out to my place and have coffee with me and Bess? We’re easy to find and I’ll fill you in on what’s going on when you get here.”

Carson breathed a sigh of relief. “That sounds good. Give me the directions.” Grabbing the pen in his shirt
pocket, he wrote the directions on a napkin.

Fifteen
minutes later, Carson eased his dually down the winding drive to the log home. The front door swung open and Stan stepped out on the covered porch. Carson wiped his boots on the welcome mat and followed Stan through the house to the kitchen. Removing his Stetson, Carson held it with both hands.