After She's Gone (West Coast #3)

“To my car.”

With a shake of her head, she stopped short. “No.”

“We need to be where no one can see us.”

“No one recognized me in the restaurant.”

He shot her a look that she read instantly. Of course no one recognized you, Cassie. You’re just Jenna Hughes’s daughter and Allie’s sister, but I’m famous, a household name, a big star.

Her temper flared and she fought not to tell him off. “I told you I’m not into all this cloak and dagger. I just want to find my sister.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, right. Like there’s nothing to worry about.”

“For the love of—Come on!” He tugged on her hand again and reluctantly she started walking again, moving quickly down the rain-washed streets. They weren’t alone. Traffic passed, a few late-night pedestrians walking along the streets.

“So where’s Allie?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wait. You said—”

“I saw her. Okay?” he snapped, his breath fogging in the cold air.

“Saw her? Where?” Cassie demanded as they rounded a corner. He reached into a jacket pocket and withdrew a ring holding a single key and fob. With a touch of his finger an older SUV parked on the far side of the street beeped and flashed its lights. Still tugging on her hand, he started jaywalking to the vehicle.

“I thought you drove a Porsche.”

“Lamborghini.”

She shrugged. “Same difference.”

“Hardly.” He shot her a look of disbelief. “My car’s in LA. Here I wanted to blend in.”

She eyed the older Chevy Tahoe with more than a little suspicion.

“Come on now. Get in.” He opened the passenger door for her, but she hesitated.

“What?”

“My sister’s missing. You were involved with her. It’s the middle of the night and someone killed Holly—”

“Oh, fuck! I know all that! Here!” He slapped the small ring with the key and fob into her palm. “You keep the damned key! Then maybe you won’t be so paranoid!”

Not a chance. Her fingers curled over the cold bit of metal as he rounded the front of the SUV, then climbed inside. At least he couldn’t drive off with her. Tentatively, she sat in her designated seat and pulled the door closed.

Now they were alone in the vehicle, rain pounding down, the windows starting to fog with their body heat.

“Tell me about Allie,” Cassie said.

“Okay. But first, give the key back to me.”

“No.”

Sighing, he said, “The windows are electric. I just want to crack one. I need a smoke.”

“Forget it.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve never heard of anyone dying from nicotine withdrawal, so quit stalling, okay? Where did you see Allie and when?”

“Two days ago. In Oregon City.” His fingers drummed against his leg and he looked antsy.

“In Oregon City?” The historic town was situated on the east side of the Willamette River, just under the falls and south of Portland by nearly twenty miles. Cassie had never heard Allie mention the town. “Why would she be there?”

“Don’t know.”

“Why were you?”

“It’s a place where I thought I was less likely to be recognized, I guess. Certainly I would be less likely to run into paparazzi. And I heard they have a great little microbrewery overlooking the falls. So I drove down there and went in for a brewski.”

“And there she was?” Cassie didn’t bother hiding her incredulity.

“Not in the brewhouse, no. But I was in a booth by the window and I looked out, it was just about dusk, and I saw her walking along the promenade that runs above the river, right over the falls.”

“You’re sure?”

“Fuckin’ A!” He threw up a hand in disgust that she didn’t blindly trust him. “You know where I’m talking about, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve been there,” she said, still processing his words. “As a teenager.” She remembered sneaking out with friends in the summer and taking the elevator that connected the lower part of the town to the upper, and then running down the stairs. The falls were a little farther upstream, past an old paper mill. They’d gone up there, too, balancing on the stone railing overlooking the falls. She could almost smell the spray, hear the thunder of water rushing over huge boulders and cliffs that made up the falls.