The Mistaken (17 page)

I walked through the massive lobby and passed
through another set of wrought-iron doors out onto a cobbled brick
patio decked with iron tables and large market umbrellas. I offered
a weak smile to several female guests who turned to stare, nodding
politely as I passed. They were still craning their necks in my
direction when I glanced back over my shoulder. Though I remained
unshaved, I had showered and cleaned up reasonably well, dressed in
khakis and a button-down shirt. My hope was to remain unnoticed, to
blend in, but I realized I was drawing too much attention to
myself.

I left the crowd behind and wandered the tastefully
landscaped grounds until I found a large parking lot designated for
the resort’s staff. From there, I watched dozens of employees enter
the main building through a basement level service door, but as far
as I could tell, Erin was not among them.

I had only one photo that Alexi had forwarded to me
through Nick. It was a grainy surveillance image of mediocre
quality, but I could tell her features well enough to discern her
from the others. I scrutinized everyone, glancing back and forth
between each employee and the photo in my hand. I’d made no
progress after loitering in the employee lot for nearly an hour, so
I ventured back into the lobby from the main entrance. I walked
around for a few minutes, scanning the fine art that adorned the
stucco walls before I picked up a magazine and settled into one of
the large club chairs that dotted the lobby. The entire area was
visible: the reception and concierge, the entrances to the spa and
pro shop, as well as the restaurant and adjoining bar.

I pretended to read or chat on my phone as I
observed both the reception and concierge desks, the only places
Jill had ever mentioned seeing Erin. Several of the employees asked
if I needed anything. With a smile, I explained that I was waiting
on my wife who was still out on the golf course.

Though it was a busy place with people bustling
about, toting golf bags over their shoulders or wheeling designer
luggage behind them, the lobby was still pretty quiet overall, so I
was startled to hear voices being raised in anger coming from the
restaurant at the far end of the lobby. Their profane language
echoed off the rotunda high above my head. I wandered over to see
what the commotion was and casually took a seat at the bar. There
were a number of people—both guests and employees—who watched the
scene unfold in the restaurant. I turned to observe as the
bartender settled a cardboard coaster in front of me.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

Though I was suitably inebriated from the half-empty
flask in my car, the temptation was too great for me to just sit
there and not order a drink.

“Cuervo Silver,” I requested, “and a pint of
whatever you have on tap.” When he turned away to fill my order, I
peered back over my shoulder at the spectacle playing out within
the restaurant behind me.

A well-dressed man near my own age stood in front of
a booth with a young couple seated at it. He directed his attention
to the woman. She yelled back at him as he towered over her.

“Lower your voice,” she hissed through her
teeth.

“Who the fuck is he?” the man standing before her
screamed, ignoring her command.

“Please, Beck, you need to leave. Now,” she
replied.

I couldn’t see the woman very well until she pushed
the man back from the table and stood up to face him. That’s when I
recognized her.

Erin Anderson.

I felt the blood drain from my face as my heart
leapt within my chest. I turned back to the bar and slammed the
shot of tequila then chased it with half the beer. With my palm
flattened against the bar, I took a deep breath. My nerves were so
taut, the sweaty glass of beer slipped from my grasp. It dropped
onto the bar, sloshing frothy ale all over the counter. The
startled bartender raised his eyebrows, silently asking if I wanted
another. With an affable nod, I mouthed an apology then held up
both vessels in an effort to cover my anxiety.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell
you’re doing here with
him
,” the man shouted.

Erin’s tone calmed as she tried to soothe him.
“Please, Beck, it’s not what you think.”

“The fuck it is!” the man screamed.

Erin pushed Beck backwards as she tried in vain to
console him. Her date, left seated at the table, sat quietly with a
look of amused shock on his face as he watched the two bicker.

“You
cancel
our
date and yet here you
are with
this
asshole. And now you’re telling me it’s not
what
I
think? You’re a goddamn lying bitch.”

It appeared the man had found Erin having lunch with
a gentleman he believed her to be having an affair with. I gathered
the angry gentleman must be Erin’s husband since he wore a wedding
ring.

“Beck, no, please. Just give me a minute to
explain,” she begged, though the provocative way she was attired
spoke volumes as to her intentions.

She wore a dark red dress that clung to her alluring
figure, barely falling to the middle of her shapely thigh.
Glittering six-inch platform heels were strapped to her feet while
expensive-looking gems adorned her ears, throat, and fingers. Her
dark red hair fell loosely over her bare shoulders in long, thick
waves, and though she was beautiful enough to go without, her face
was slathered in heavy make-up. She looked like a high-priced call
girl.

The resort manager, a tall, older gentleman with a
balding head and well-dressed in an expensive suit, approached the
two of them with his hands raised. “This is not the appropriate
place for your conversation. I would ask you to take it elsewhere,”
he said in a hushed tone.

“Back off, Henry,” Erin replied.

The manager’s eyes grew wide then his mouth thinned
as he rested his fists against his rotund waist. “That’s
Mr.
Renton to you, Ms. Anderson. Get over to my office right now or
you’ll find yourself forcibly removed from the premises…for good
this time,” he said. His eyes burned with anger, following Erin
closely as she stormed off. “And Mr. Maguire, I would like you to
leave the restaurant, as well. I can have you escorted back to your
suite, if you’d like.”

They stared at each other for a tense moment before
Maguire left the restaurant in an angry huff. Renton spoke to
Erin’s date, politely offering him the drinks and food he was
sharing with Erin as compliments of the resort. With a nod, he
turned back to the lobby and disappeared down the long hall after
Erin.

I wanted to follow Renton and keep an eye on Erin,
but thought better of it since they were still attracting a great
deal of attention. I slammed my second shot then tossed the beer
down my throat. I threw a twenty on the bar and left the same way
Maguire did. I followed him at a safe distance through the lobby,
where he picked up his bag, then out through the parking lot to a
rental with Hertz tags on the bumper. Maguire jumped in and sped
off. I returned to my own car out back and drove around to the
side, parking in the shade of a tall California oak. I hoped to
catch my prize as she left from either the front lot or the
rear.

Ninety minutes later, Erin walked out through the
front door. I checked the photo one last time. She had cleaned up
and changed into more conservative clothing, but there was no doubt
in my mind it was her. I sneered and swore under my breath then
tipped the flask to my lips. I drained the contents, seeking its
numbing relief. Suddenly, a waitress from the bar jogged out
through the front entrance. She chased after Erin and tapped her on
the shoulder. Erin turned, and they spoke for a minute, but the
waitress seemed uneasy, nervously scanning the area around them.
Erin locked arms with her and the two strolled through the parking
lot toward the rear of the building, chatting amicably along the
way.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Erin
looked surprised as the girl carried on. She pulled out her wallet
and showed the girl what looked to be a photograph. The girl nodded
and returned it to Erin as she continued to talk excitedly. Shortly
thereafter, the two parted ways. Erin smiled as she walked back to
her car out front where the guests parked. She pulled out her cell
phone and made a call. I was surprised she looked so smugly
satisfied, considering the fight she’d had earlier in front of her
boss and fellow employees. She pulled out of the parking space and
proceeded slowly through the lot. Not wanting to lose sight of her,
I followed. She led me an hour or so south to the Oakland Airport
where she pulled her car into the long line of rental returns then
walked into the office, wheeling an overnight bag behind her.

I parked some distance away and jogged back toward
the office to watch her. I was shocked to see her
and
Maguire, the man from the restaurant, arguing again in the middle
of the rental office. Since Maguire had left nearly an hour and a
half earlier, I thought for sure they had made plans to meet, but
the posturing between them was completely different than it had
been in the restaurant. Maguire appeared surprised to see her and
very disturbed by her complaints. Erin was the one screaming this
time. Though I couldn’t understand what she was saying, her voice
carried all the way out to the parking garage where it echoed off
the concrete walls. Now
she
was angry, and
he
was
sullen, like he’d been the one caught cheating instead of her. I’d
never seen a couple who deserved each other more than these
two.

Maguire ripped Erin’s paperwork out of her hand and
threw both his receipt and hers at the employee who stood behind
the counter. The sheepish clerk looked concerned by the fighting
couple. Maguire handed him a credit card and paid both accounts. He
turned and grabbed his bag and Erin’s arm, dragging them both out
of the office toward the airport terminal. The clerk walked out
from behind the counter and followed them out the door. He watched
them with an open mouth as they walked away, still arguing back and
forth.

I quietly entered the office from behind the clerk,
walked up to the counter, and snatched the paperwork he’d left
sitting there. One escaped my fingers and fell to the floor behind
the counter, out of my reach. The clerk pulled the front door
closed behind him and returned to the office. I spun around,
avoiding eye contact, and pretended to lift some company literature
off a kiosk. Then I turned and left the office before the clerk
could notice the missing paperwork.

As I walked through the garage, I looked over the
one receipt I’d managed to steal to see what kind of information I
could glean from it. The name at the top was Beck Maguire’s. It
listed an address in Washington State, his driver’s license, and
two phone numbers. I stuffed the paper into my pocket and took off
into the terminal after the bickering couple. Slipping into the
line far behind them at the busy ticket counter, I listened as they
quarreled over their plans to fly back home to Seattle. I wanted to
follow them onto their flight, but it was more important that I
talk to Nick and share with him what I knew. Perhaps we could use
the receipt to find Maguire and Erin again up in Washington. I
watched them proceed through the security line. They had finally
stopped arguing, refusing to speak to each other at all. With
nothing left to do, I drove home to find Nick and discuss our next
step. Time was running out. We had to find Erin.

I needed that girl.

Chapter
Nineteen

Tyler

Nick grilled me about everything that went down at
the spa, as well as the Oakland Airport. He wondered aloud why Erin
would be flying up to Seattle if she worked in Napa and most likely
lived nearby. Working on a hunch, he called the spa and asked for
Erin, hoping to get some answers. He used his considerable charm
and chatted up the young woman who answered the phone. He listened
silently for a few minutes then hung up and threw me an anxious
glance.

“
Erin was sacked today,” he
said.

“Sacked?”

“Yep, fired for inappropriate behavior and escorted
off the property. Or so the lady said.”

“Brilliant. So what’ll we do now?”

“Well, we don’t have anywhere else to locate her now
except for the address on that rental car receipt.” Nick picked up
the slip and perused it before handing it to me. He paced the
floor, deep in thought. “You said they both talked about going
home. Those were their words. And their flight was headed to
Seattle. I don’t know, Ty. You seem to think they’re married, but
his name is Maguire and hers is Anderson. Something just doesn’t
add up.” He stopped and looked at me. “I’m not sure what’s up with
them, but if Seattle is where they both said their home is, we
don’t have much choice. I think we should drive up as soon as
possible. Take a look around. That’s our best shot at finding her
now. I don’t want Alexi to think we’ve fucked this up before we
even got started, you know.”

I looked over the receipt and nodded, knowing it was
the best plan, but feeling apprehensive about it. Nick considered
me with doubt in his eyes, probably the same uncertainty I felt in
my heart, not to mention the foreboding that sat like a rock in the
pit of my stomach.

“You sure about this, Ty? I know I said all those
things before, but if you’re not—”

“No, you’re right. I just want to get this over with
as quickly as possible.” I had no choice now, though Nick didn’t
know that yet. I hadn’t told him about the deal Alexi and I had
brokered with Dmitri. And while Alexi had so far kept his promise
not to tell Nick, he had called me twice already, a friendly
reminder that the clock was ticking and that he was watching. And
waiting. Like the sword of Damocles hanging above my head.