When he emerged from the trees that had initially blocked his view of the house, he saw that the Hummer wasn’t parked in the clearing. But, oddly enough, Charlie’s white pickup wasn’t there, either. Which made no sense. How could his pickup have been photographed a few days earlier if Charlie had taken it to visit his daughter in Yuma? Either he’d left it behind or he hadn’t, and this made it appear that he hadn’t.
Shoving his gun into his waistband, Rod stepped out. Moonlight fell gently on the front lawn, which smelled of freshly mowed grass. Someone was keeping up with the watering, too. And yet, even with the cicadas humming, the place had a lonely, shut-up feeling….
What was going on? Had Sophia been here? If so, where was she now? There was no sign of her.
Rod strode to the front door and rang the bell. He didn’t give a damn how late it was. If Charlie was home, he wanted to talk to him, to see if he’d heard from Sophia and to ask why he hadn’t been returning her calls, which was the reason she’d come out here in the first place.
His summons brought no response. “You’re not here,” he muttered. “I can tell you’re gone, and you’ve been gone for a while.”
He tried the door, found it locked and went around to the back. Everything was locked up tight. Short of breaking a window, there was no way to get in, no way to see if anything strange was going on. Except…
Rod looked more carefully. There was a small cut in the screen of the porch. Was it merely a coincidence that it was so close to the door handle?
He didn’t believe in coincidence. Sliding his hand inside, he flipped the lever that would let him in, and found the back door slightly ajar, as if whoever had gone out the last time hadn’t bothered to latch it. Was that person Sophia? If not, Rod thought the open door was almost as strange as the missing truck. What if whoever had been here wasn’t Charlie or Sophia?
The pent-up heat inside the house hit Rod like the blast from an oven. In this part of the country, homes that were closed up during the summer, without a few open windows to allow for an exchange of air, could be sweltering. This one certainly was—further evidence that Charlie was out of town for an extended period. No one could tolerate living in a place this hot.
Standing in the mudroom, Rod listened to the settling noises of the old house. A toilet was running in back, but that was about it. No wind buffeted the trees. No animals scurried about, padded around, meowed or barked. A kibble bowl and a neatly folded towel suggested that Charlie owned a pet, probably a dog, but he must’ve taken the animal with him.
Confident that he was as alone as he’d assumed when he entered, Rod stepped into a pitch-black room. All the blinds had been drawn to keep out the sun. Flipping the closest switch, he found himself in a clean but dated kitchen. The cupboards, the table and chairs, the clock and pictures, were simple, like their aging owner, but had most likely been purchased by Charlie’s wife. She’d died when Rod was only ten or thereabouts, so the old guy had been on his own for quite a while. He didn’t appear to have improved the place since then, but he was clearly keeping up with indoor as well as outdoor maintenance.
Spotting a calendar hanging above a small built-in desk next to the fridge, Rod walked over. The month was current, but a line had been drawn through the past week and extended for three more days. Above that line, a shaky hand had written Sumpter Family Reunion.
At least Rod now understood why Charlie hadn’t responded to the message Sophia had left for him at his daughter’s house. The daughter wasn’t at home, either. They were probably off camping somewhere, or boating at Lake Powell.
Rod checked his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed another call from Sophia, saw that he hadn’t and moved on to the living room. But, once again, it was too dark to see. He’d just begun searching for a lamp when headlights hit the front window and the sound of a motor told him he had company.
Hoping Sophia had finally shown up, he peeked out. But it wasn’t the Hummer. Someone was driving the white truck he’d seen in the photos.
31
The ambulance that screamed through town gave Gary hope. Planning to move his records for the smuggling enterprise to a new location, a more secure location, he’d been hastily packing all the files and ledgers into boxes. Now he stopped. That siren signaled good news. It had to be on its way to pick up Sophia and Rod, didn’t it? With any luck, they were both dead. But if Leonard had taken care of them as promised, why hadn’t he called?
Cursing Taylor for leaving him on tenterhooks, Gary paced in the front of his store, where he could see the street. Maybe Leonard was watching the action, making sure it all went as it should. Or maybe he was having difficulty getting to a place where he felt comfortable talking. Either scenario was possible, but Gary was more inclined to believe Taylor was relishing the fact that he had him at a disadvantage.
“Bastard.” Unable to wait any longer, he called Leonard’s cell. It rang several times before transferring to voice mail. What was going on? What was happening? He hated not knowing.
More agitated by the second, he was about to try again, when Leonard called him. “Finally,” he muttered, and punched the talk button. “Did you do it? Is it done?”
Whoever answered wasn’t Leonard. At first, Gary couldn’t place him. He was talking too low. But then he realized it was Sheriff Cooper. “Leonard’s dead.”
“What? What about Sophia? And Rod?”
“Sophia shot Leonard. Scene’s a mess. I don’t know where Rod is.”
“Where can I find them?” Leonard didn’t matter, except that he hadn’t done his job. All Gary cared about was making sure Sophia and Rod couldn’t ruin him and the business he’d worked so hard to build.
“I can’t talk. I’m going to do you a favor and destroy this phone. And if the phone records are requested in an investigation, I’ll do my best to switch them out. That’ll sever any obvious tie you have to Leonard, make it look as if he’s the only one to blame for what happened here. If you have any records of any amounts you’ve ever paid me, destroy them immediately,” he said, and hung up.
Gary’s left arm began to tingle and the pressure he’d been feeling in his chest grew worse, until it felt as if he had an elephant sitting on him. Afraid he might be having a heart attack, he gingerly lowered himself to the floor and stretched out on his back. Take it easy. You’re gonna be okay. Deep breaths. That’s it. It’s not over. You’ll find them. You’ll save this thing yet.