Chapter 2
P hilly lingered after the end of the club’s weekly meeting, his brothers gone to take care of business.
Picking up the bag of stuffed animals, the big eyes and the exaggerated eyelashes of a green dragon peeking out at him, he smiled.
Although, now that he thought about it, did dragons even have eyelashes?
And if they didn’t, the ones on the stuffie would be fictional rather than exaggerated, right?
He’d have to google that shit later. For now, he’d put the donations in the storage closet and hope that someday the stuffies would mark the start of a better life for a kid who deserved more than what they’d been dealt.
“You okay?” Mantis asked, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed.
“Aren’t you headed out to the Fir Tree Lane property to inspect the water heater?” Philly countered.
“Funny how I can do two things in one day—check a water heater and check on you.”
Philly rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”
Mantis eyed him. “You have any idea what she wants?”
Two months ago, Callie Parks had burst back into his life, helping Stone and Juliana stop a murder.
Three weeks ago, she stopped by to speak with him about an old case.
She’d ended up setting aside her own agenda—and questions—to help them figure out who’d killed Lina’s father and why.
They hadn’t talked since her FBI team closed that case two weeks ago.
Philly set his hand on the dragon and leaned against the table. “None.”
“You need anything? Want anyone to stick around?”
He considered the offer. Fifteen years ago, he would have told Mantis to fuck off, that he didn’t need a babysitter. But he wasn’t that scared, angry, volatile kid anymore. He had a family now, a healthy, sometimes-unruly-but-always-solid family.
He shook his head. “Thanks, but I got it. If I can help her, I will.”
The corners of Mantis’s mouth ticked up. “Then she can be on her merry way?”
Philly inclined his head and shrugged. He tried to smile, but while his lips moved, it probably came out more of a grimace.
“You know we’re here—all of us—if you need anything.”
Philly swallowed and nodded. His brothers knew everything about him—they knew about the shithole he’d grown up in, they knew how he coped under pressure, they knew his favorite brand of boxers and why he hated pineapple.
They even knew his fear of roly-poly bugs.
But they didn’t know about Callie. And they were an observant bunch of lovable bastards.
The fact that he’d never mentioned the woman before was a big red flag for every single one of them.
“Thanks,” he said.
Mantis studied him, then nodded and pushed off the door. “She’s in the lodge room. Dottie set her up with coffee and a piece of coffee cake.”
He nodded again. “I’ll put these away,” he said, lifting the bag of stuffed animals.
“I’ll take it,” Mantis said, holding out his hand.
“I’ve got to check the inventory anyway before heading to Fir Tree Lane.
I’m going to stop by Rita C’s to check inventory there, too,” he said, referring to the bar the club owned.
“Go get it over with.” He jerked his head toward the lodge room.
“Then go for a run or do whatever you need.”
“I need to check the reservation system for the rentals. We’re coming up on the high season.
” The club managed several properties they’d bought, fixed up, and now rented to vacationing weekenders.
Summer and winter were the big revenue seasons.
So far, the bookings for the ski season looked good, with a lot of repeat renters, but he needed to take a closer look and determine whether to adjust their marketing plan.
“Sitting in front of a computer isn’t going to be a productive use of your time this morning. If you’re going to be stubborn about it, though, take a run before you start.”
Philly opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. As much as he wished Callie didn’t have an impact on him, she did. And Mantis was right—a run would help clear his mind before having to focus on business.
“I’ll head out to the fire trail on the east side of the lake,” he conceded. The eleven-mile trail would be enough to calm his system down. “I’ll get the rentals sorted by the end of the day.”
Mantis nodded again and, shooting him one last loaded look, took the bag of toys and left the room.
With the trail beckoning him, he followed his brother out, but rather than turn left toward the members’ wing of the building, he turned right. As he strode down the hall toward the main room, the wood floors solid beneath his feet, he considered what Callie might ask. For the hundredth time.
And for the hundredth time, he came up with nothing. He had no shortage of creativity, but for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine any scenario where their lives intersected. Not for the past twenty years.
As he approached the room, Dottie came into view on her way to the kitchen. She didn’t stop, but she subtly nodded toward the west side of the room.
Pausing at the end of the hall to assess the situation, he spotted Callie sitting at the end of a long table, picking at her coffee cake.
She seemed to be forking off the crumb topping, moving it around the plate, then picking off a small piece of cake from the corner.
For every three pieces of cake she separated out, only one made it into her mouth.
“Callie,” he said, walking into the room.
Fork in hand, she watched as he came toward her, taking the seat opposite.
Yesterday, she’d worn a black suit with a white top and heels.
Today’s attire wasn’t all that different, although the suit was a rich brown and the top more of a cream color than white.
“Do you want any coffee or anything?” she asked as he folded his hands and set them on the table.
He shook his head. He’d already had four cups—two more than usual. “What’s this old case you wanted to ask me about?”
She set her fork down and straightened. He tried not to notice how the young girl he’d been in love with had turned into a stunning woman. An objectively difficult thing to do as her dark, expressive eyes studied the lines of his face. As if tracing a memory.
“Laura Nolan,” she said.
He paused, then frowned, reminding himself he meant nothing more to her than a potential source of information. Not that he wanted to mean more.
“Who’s Laura Nolan?” he asked.
Her gaze held his before dropping to her phone sitting on the table beside the coffee cake. He followed her fingers as she typed in a code, oddly mesmerized by her fingernails. Trimmed to the exact same length, she hadn’t covered them with any sort of polish, yet they looked smooth and flawless.
She slid the phone across the table, and he jerked his gaze away from her hands to the device.
Pulling it closer, he studied the screen and the grainy image taken from CCTV footage.
A picture of him and a woman exiting a building.
He held the door open with one hand while the other lingered near the woman’s lower back.
They both carried bags weighed down by something hidden within the white opaque plastic, and she had a hand pressed to her lower belly.
He squinted at the time stamp, then frowned again. “This was taken nearly two-and-a-half years ago, but I remember that day.”
Callie leaned two inches forward.
“A couple of buddies had leave. I flew down to San Diego, and we were heading to Baja for a few days,” he answered, his gaze still on the image.
“She and I were walking into the store at the same time,” he said, tapping the picture.
“I made some comment about what a beautiful day it was. She agreed but said something about being sick. I thought maybe she had a cold, but as soon as we walked into the mini-mart, she bolted for the bathroom. Both the clerk and I could hear her vomiting. She sounded miserable.” He paused, then pushed the phone closer to Callie.
“She was right in that it was too nice a day to be sick, so I bought her some ginger ale and crackers.” He nodded toward the phone. “I guess that was taken when we left.”
“Did you walk out with her?”
“Only toward the parking lot. I got a call and turned away.”
“You didn’t notice where she went?”
He shook his head. “But there was a white Land Cruiser, maybe a 2004, leaving the parking lot when I backed out of my spot.”
Her brows dropped. “That’s specific. The age of the car.”
He shrugged. “In the places I’ve worked you see a lot of Land Cruisers. And Hiluxes, but those aren’t sold in the US.”
“You didn’t know Laura before that morning?”
He studied Callie. “That’s Laura Nolan?” he asked, nodding to the phone.
“It is.”
“What’s the case then?”
“She’s missing.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m guessing it wasn’t the flu that made her sick that day, which would make the baby—if it lived—about what, two now? If a pretty young woman, who’s also the mother of a toddler, goes missing, it’s in the news. This hasn’t been in the news.”
“She went missing three months before you were seen with her in San Diego.”
Philly blinked. “There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”
Callie tipped her head a fraction but didn’t answer. “You said it was a white Land Cruiser?”
“Yes. I might have noticed the plates, but after two-plus years, I don’t remember. Have you considered she might have been on the run from someone? Maybe even the person who filed the missing persons report? Which I assume there is.”
“Her husband filed the report.”
He inclined his head but held her gaze. “Then maybe you should leave it. There’s a reason she went missing, a reason she left her husband and family. I don’t think it takes a genius to figure out what that reason might be.”
“Are you saying her husband was abusive?”
Philly shook his head. “That’s one of the possibilities—none of which are good. And finding her and returning her to that situation could have unintended consequences.” He narrowed his eyes. “This is hardly a white-collar case, Callie. Why are you looking into it?”
Her dark brown eyes studied him. “Laura Nolan was—still is—married to Rian Nolan. The Nolan family has come up in an old investigation I’m looking into.”
“And when you discovered that the wife was still alive—or still alive three months after she ‘disappeared’—you decided she might be your inside track into the family?”
“As you said, she likely left for a reason. She had many reasons to stay, including a life of luxury and, quite possibly, a baby. And yet she left. I’d like to know why.”
“At the cost to her safety,” Philly replied, his voice flat. He had a lot of reasons not to like Callie Parks, but he’d always assumed her willingness to hurt others was something special she reserved for him.
Callie’s jaw ticked. “I do not want to put her in danger,” she said so emphatically he almost believed her. “If I can find her and if she’s in danger, there are ways to make contact that will keep her off anyone’s radar and still in the shadows.”
He sat back and crossed his arms. “You’re an FBI agent.
You’re working a case. Even if you keep your notes confidential or refer to her as a confidential informant, don’t you think people will figure out where you got inside information on the Nolans…
” He cut himself off as the pieces of what she said—and didn’t—fell into place.
Leaning forward, he set his forearms on the table.
“You’re not working a case, are you? Not officially. ”
Bingo. Her eyes slid away and she took three breaths, her gaze fixed on the front door. “Like I said,” she said, returning her attention to him, “it’s an old investigation. There is an official record and file.”
“But it’s not your investigation,” he pushed, noting her use of “investigation” rather than “case.” Laura Nolan’s disappearance was a “case,” but he’d bet his house that whatever else Callie was working didn’t rise to that level.
She stared at him for a weighted moment, then pushed away from the table. “Thank you for your time today, Gabriel. It was…helpful.”
He remained seated as she gathered her purse and jacket. She gave him one last nod, then walked toward the door.
“Callie,” he called. She turned. “Leave the wife out of it. I get that you want what you want, but people leave those kinds of situations for a reason. You throw her back into it, what happens next will be on you.”
Again, her jaw ticked. He braced himself for a retort, but instead, she stilled and searched his face, as if reading a book. When her eyes met his, the curiosity flaring in the dark depths sent up a hundred and one red flags.
“Thank you, Gabriel,” she said again before turning and walking out.
When the door closed behind her, he let out a long exhale. Then, pulling out his phone, he called Mantis.
“Yeah,” his brother answered.
“We have a problem,” he said.
“How big?”
Philly’s gaze returned to the door. In his mind’s eye, he saw Callie climbing into her car, her mind working through all the angles. “Big. She’s looking for Laura Nolan.”