Fatal Burn (West Coast 2)

Paterno braced himself. He was certain he was going to hear the abductor whisper something, but instead he heard the faint rumbling sound that he’d thought was part of the fire.

“What is that?” he asked, but his mind was racing ahead. It was a familiar noise.

“A train,” Rossi said. “He’s got her near a railroad stop or tracks.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re right. Play it again.” They listened again. “Okay. Let’s keep this quiet,” Paterno said. “No leaks. Not even to the family. We don’t want any chance of the jerk-off learning we’re getting close. Thanks,” he said to Kim, clapping him on the back. “I owe ya a beer.”

“You owe me a half case, but who’s counting?”

“I guess you are.”

Kim flashed a smile. “Always.”

“Does the FBI know about this?”

“I’ll call the field office, but they’ve got a copy of the tape. My guess is they’re all over this.”

Rossi and Paterno left the basement and headed upstairs where Paterno sat down at his computer and pulled up maps of the area. “Well, this really narrows it down,” he muttered sarcastically. “Damn trains run through every town up and down the valley and then head out through the hills.”

“We have to assume that he’s got her somewhere isolated, because we hear the sound of the train, but no traffic,” Rossi pointed out. “Nothing else. Since we can hear a train, shouldn’t we also be able to hear a car passing or a neighbor’s dog, that kind of thing?”

“If a car were passing at the time of the recording. If a dog decided to bark just then.”

“Well, what we do know is that when that tape was recorded, she wasn’t hidden in some soundproof bunker or basement. Wherever she was, either outside by a campfire, or inside in a place that isn’t all that insulated for sound, we can hear the train and nothing else.”

“You got yourself a point,” Paterno said as he gazed at the computer screen and all of the railroad tracks that surrounded the city. Not so many, really, but miles and miles of it. “It’s a start. A piss-poor one, but a start.” He reached for the phone. Figured it was time to talk to the FBI himself.

Shannon grabbed her purse and keys. She’d double-checked on all the animals, not really trusting Nate—though, to be honest, he’d never once neglected the animals.

So that was one point in his favor.

But he was a liar. And a user. And God knew what else.

She’d taken the time to call Alexi and arrange for security systems to be set up at both her places by the end of the week, and she’d called her brothers, leaving messages with both Aaron and Robert, but finally tracking down Shea, who was at their mother’s and promised to stop by.

But first things first.

She needed wheels. Her truck was still impounded so she asked Travis to drive her into town so she could find a rental.

“You don’t have to do this,” Travis said as they headed into town. “I’m happy to drive you.”

“I want my own car.” With Nate’s confession and theories, she’d decided not to trust anyone. Including Travis. Besides, she didn’t want him tagging along wherever she went; she wasn’t one of those women who needed a man with her every second of the day…especially a man to whom she was sexually attracted and who had his own agenda.

“You’re letting Santana get to you,” he said, braking for a corner as they reached the outskirts of town.

“I just need some space, okay?”

He lifted a hand off the wheel. “Don’t shut me out, okay?”

“Why? Because we slept together?” she asked, hating the bite to her words.

“No. Because we share a daughter.”

“Do we?” she threw back at him as he slowed for a light and traffic converged around his truck. “I think you’ve got that wrong. We share nothing. I gave up my rights to her a long time ago.” Bristling, she flung her arms over her chest as if to protect herself. What had she been thinking? Buying into the “our daughter” trap. Dani belonged to Travis. Period. Though Shannon would do anything she could to find the girl, and wanted desperately to meet the baby she’d brought into this world, she knew her hidden little fantasy—that somehow they would all be a family together, that Travis would be the father, she the mother, and Dani the loving, darling daughter—was a pipe dream that would never work. Never. Not even if all parties were willing to try.

“There it is,” she said, pointing to a small business, located between a strip mall and a donut stand, which advertised that they rented wrecks, older cars not in prime condition. He pulled into the pockmarked lot and she was out of the cab before the truck came to a complete stop. “Thanks,” she said coolly, then heard herself and decided to own up to the fact that she cared about this man, cared more than she should have. “Really. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“I could—”