Half an hour later, with nothing turning up but an alarming number of fine-quality Italian loafers, Travis returned to his car and called the tip in to the cops. Anonymously, since he didn’t think they’d appreciate the fact that he’d kept Matt’s cell phone and the contacts on it to himself, even if he had only just realized it this morning. And he wasn’t about to give up the cell phone as evidence, either. He was keeping it on in case anyone tried to reach the punk in the next few hours. So far, however, the phone had remained silent.
Back on the road toward Meredith’s, he called Meems to see if she had any updates.
“Where are you now?” she asked, and he gave her his coordinates. “We may have found a couple of strong contenders. One’s about twenty minutes from you. The other…another forty.”
“Text me the addresses.” He hesitated for a few seconds as he debated whether to ask her how Meredith was before he realized that was a dumb-ass thing to ask his friend. Besides, he could guess. Without a word from him and nothing new on her daughter, she was probably like a lioness ready to spring on anyone—okay, him—the moment he arrived. “And if I haven’t said it today, thanks, Meems. You’re the best.”
“Don’t you know it.”
When the text came through, he pulled over to the side of the road to enter the coordinates in his GPS. The first was closest, but it was in such a crowded urban area he didn’t see how it could possibly be what they were looking for. The second looked more promising, but as Meems said, it was another forty minutes beyond the first.
He sighed. Might as well be thorough. Entering the coordinates, he slipped back into traffic. At least he was out here. Doing something.
Much better than skulking around Meredith’s house. Avoiding two women now.
Chapter Fourteen
It was nearly four when he finally pulled back into Meredith’s driveway. Meems’s Jeep was gone, as she’d already texted him that she was heading over to the hotel where the gala was being held to set up a few discreet cameras so they had their own eyes on the place.
He’d faced insurgents. Roadside bombs. Why the hell did facing Claire and Meredith now fill him with more dread?
The house felt empty the moment he stepped inside. The chatter of the women that had filled the kitchen was gone. But someone was moving around in the kitchen. Meredith, likely sharpening her knives.
Only it was actually Claire, putting dishes into the dishwasher. He’d bet Meredith was probably prowling upstairs somewhere. Not that, if he were honest with himself, he could blame her.
After the intimacy they’d shared, something that had left him feeling almost raw with emotion, something that had never happened before to him, he owed her more than he was giving her. Just not now. Not when he still didn’t understand how he could have let his defenses down as easily as he had, let her in after swearing he’d never do that.
Not with someone like Meredith. Someone who had displayed before her need to tear others down just like his old man had.
It was all made worse when he found himself actually uttering to himself the words he’d never thought he’d say.
That she’d changed. That people…changed.
Claire looked up, finally noticing his arrival. “You’re here. I’m guessing that the locations Meems sent you were a bust?”
“Unfortunately.” Although he was certain that both locations had been used in the past, from the cots and syringes he’d found. But not for months, at least. “Where is everyone?” he asked vaguely, even though he only wanted to know the location of one.
“Allie left about half an hour ago to get ready and Meems, as you know, around the same time. I was going to have Allie drop me off but was hoping to get a chance to talk with you before then.”
Talk? Why didn’t that sound good? He hadn’t even dropped the bombshell about Rick yet. Maybe some time alone with her was a good thing. “All right. We can talk while I drive you home. First, let me just check in with Meredith. Is she upstairs?”
The bewildered look she gave him was his first inkling that something was wron
g.
“Meredith left hours ago. Just after you.”
Meredith wasn’t here? How the— “She’s not here. Without a car, how the hell did she leave the house and why are you only telling me this now?” he said, his voice rising toward the end.
Claire’s blue eyes flamed back at him. “She called a taxi to where I haven’t any idea, but since she’s not my client I didn’t feel it was necessary to give her the third degree. Besides, I figured that the two of you would have been communicating. How the heck would I know that neither of you could manage to use the phone to tell each other—”
Claire stopped suddenly, her eyes narrowing. “No. No, no, no, no, no. Please tell me that you did not sleep with her.”
How the hell did she do that?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Claire, and I don’t have time for this. I’ve got to find out where she is,” he said and pulled his cell phone out, and dialed Meredith’s number. It rang once and went to voicemail. He was certain she’d just rejected his call. Damn.
What was she up to that she left the house without telling anyone where she was going? “Did you happen to catch what taxi service she called?” He could find out where they’d delivered her.