Chapter 63
Wednesday late morning
As Sabre stood in the hall outside Department One waiting for the clerk, her phone vibrated.
She stepped away from the crowd of attorneys before answering. “Sabre.”
It was DuBois. “We’re ready.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Do you have the surveillance lined up?”
“Yeah. And the warrant package is ready if this turns into something actionable.”
Sabre leaned against the wall. “What exactly does actionable mean?”
“It means if he leads us to Hannah or somewhere connected to her, we can move fast. Phones, properties, vehicles, whatever we need.” A pause.
“Are you sure about this?” DuBois asked quietly.
No, she thought. Not even remotely, but it no longer mattered. “Yes.”
“All right,” he said. “Keep it normal. Don’t push too hard.”
The line disconnected.
~~~
The restaurant had a modern, sleek architectural design and large windows, offering beautiful views of the waterfront. The nautical themes and vibrant colors suddenly felt too intimate. What had she been thinking?
Sabre spotted Daniel Rourke at a corner table in a charcoal button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. He looked relaxed and entirely comfortable with himself.
When he saw her, he smiled warmly and stood. “Sabre.”
“Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re an attorney.” He smiled. “I assumed court exploded.”
If only he knew.
He pulled out her chair and Sabre sat, forcing herself to breathe normally.
A waitress appeared, and they ordered coffee first.
Rourke settled back once they were alone again. “So,” he said easily, “what’s so important that you need my help?” He gave her an intimate smile. “Don’t get me wrong, you can use any excuse to see me. I’ll come running.”
Charming as ever. Sabre wrapped both hands around her coffee cup. “JP developed something new.”
“Did he solve the case?” He grinned. “I’ll be serious, what did he find?”
“A yellow Mustang.”
Rourke frowned.
Sabre continued casually. “Nigel Gates told JP he saw a yellow 1966 Mustang following Victor Hayes the day Hannah disappeared.”
Rourke’s expression flashed with a second of surprise.
“And Marcus Caldwell later reported seeing a blonde girl he thought might’ve been Hannah riding in a yellow Mustang in Oceanside a few weeks after the abduction.”
That got a longer pause from Rourke. “Did he report it to the police? Because I don’t remember anything about a yellow Mustang.”
“No. He didn’t.”
“So, the fool thinks he sees his daughter whose been missing for a couple of weeks and never reported it?”
“Right.”
“That’s outrageous. It could’ve led to something back then. Now, it’s probably useless.”
“I know.” Sabre kept her tone even. “That’s why I wanted to ask you about it.”
Rourke nodded. “What exactly?”
“Did you ever develop anything involving the Mustang during your original investigation? Even unofficially?”
He shook his head. “No. If I had, it would’ve been in my notes.”
Sabre nodded like that made sense.
“JP tried tracing it, but it was a complete dead end.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“There are too many restored Mustangs in Southern California. We had no plates or VIN, nothing unique besides color and year.”
Rourke shrugged. “That’s not traceable after eight years.”
Exactly the reaction she wanted—calm, dismissive, and unthreatened.
Sabre took a sip of coffee. “But it bothered me.”
“How?”
“The car appears three times.” She looked at him carefully. “Twice near the school before Hannah vanished. Then again in Oceanside.”
Rourke nodded. “That is interesting, but as I said, it’s too late to find the car now.”
Sabre kept it casual. “Do you think it matters to the case?”
Rourke glanced briefly toward the harbor before answering.
“It probably did back then, but today, maybe contextually.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means whoever had Hannah wasn’t acting like somebody in panic mode.” Rourke continued calmly. “A bright yellow classic car isn’t subtle. If the sighting’s accurate, the driver either felt safe…” He paused. “Or at least comfortable.”
Sabre felt a chill move through her. “JP said something similar.”
“He’s probably right, but even more likely is that it wasn’t Hannah at all.”
The waitress returned with menus, interrupting the moment. Rourke thanked her, then looked back at Sabre once they were alone again. “But honestly? I think the Mustang itself is a dead end.”
Sabre sat through her meal hoping Rourke didn’t see how uncomfortable she was.
She mentioned a couple of cases, no specifics, but made sure he knew she was struggling with her career.
“I’m not even sure I want to continue practicing law. I was trying to take a break from it all when this fell in my lap.”
He sympathized with her, saying all the right things.
Finally, Sabre thought it was safe to go. He insisted on walking her to her car. She avoided looking around because somewhere several cars back from the restaurant, JP and DuBois were waiting.