“Fine,” she said, not really caring what his secrets were. It was late and she was getting more irritated by the second. “But I drove all the way down here to talk to you. In the middle of the damned night. And all you tell me is that you think you saw Allie from a distance. Be sure to tell Whitney Stone so she can blow it up, make a story out of nothing.”

“I know. I know. Stone’s been on my ass, too,” he muttered. “Along with about a million other reporters.” He blew out a stream of smoke. “But there’s more.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice tight. She was starting to think he was completely full of shit.

A car rounded the corner and she yanked the door firmly shut. The sports car roared past, music blaring, bass throbbing.

“Check out this text,” McNary said, pulling out his cell phone and tossing it to her.

“From Allie?” She didn’t believe it, but glanced down at the phone.

“Yeah.” He drew deeply on his filter tip. “Think so.”

The screen message said: I’m okay.

Disbelieving, she said, “This isn’t Allie’s number.”

“It’s no one’s number, I tried to call it back. It’s a phone with a different SIM card or a prepaid burner phone or something. Untraceable.”

“To you, maybe. But the police might have ways. But still . . . just a text that says ‘I’m okay’? Anyone could have sent it.”

“She wanted to let me know she’s all right.” He didn’t believe it, though. His expression was of uncertainty and bewilderment, but then, he was an actor.

“Why text. Why not call? Or leave a decent message explaining where she is? Why not use her real phone, or better yet, if she can text, why doesn’t she just show up so everyone who cares about her isn’t worried sick!” Cassie was getting angry now, the smoldering rage that had been with her since before she’d admitted herself to Mercy Hospital beginning to catch fire again.

“I don’t know!”

“Have you gone to the police?”

He shot her a look and blew a stream of smoke out the cracked window. “They’d laugh at me.” His lips tightened. “Kind of like you’re doing.”

“I’m not laughing at you, McNary. I’m trying to figure out why you called me up so late at night.”

“Check the time on that message. It’s been a while. I’d just finished watching that miserable program with Whitney Stone and before the damned credits start rolling, I get this message. Bam! It freaked me the fuck out, okay? I knew you were looking for Allie and I called you.” He gave her a pointed look. “What would you have done?”

“I’m not sure I would leap to the conclusion that Allie was on the other end of that damned text. Anyone could have sent it. It could be a mistake, sent to you in error, or a prank or—”

“Or it could be Allie. She might do this for fun.”

“No way.”

“You know how she was . . . is . . . she likes to play mind games and you’re a liar. You would think it came from her, if you got it instead of me.”

She was about to protest again, but bit her tongue. Wouldn’t you have thought exactly the same thing? Wouldn’t you have leaped to that very conclusion? Especially after watching the episode of Justice: Stone Cold? After seeing images of Allie splashed all over the screen, and the text came through, wouldn’t you immediately think of her?

“So maybe I overreacted. Sue me,” McNary grumbled as he took a final drag on his cigarette then tossed the butt out the window, the red tip arcing to die in the rain.

“You should take this to the police.”

“I thought you didn’t think it was Allie,” he said with a bit of a sneer. Once again, she remembered why she didn’t like him. There was something supercilious about him, something shifty. McNary, she reminded herself, was always looking out for McNary.

“I don’t know who sent you the text, but still, you should let the cops know.” She frowned, thought about telling him about the warped mask she’d found in her suitcase, then reconsidered. She and Brandon McNary weren’t working together to find Allie, no matter how he acted. She owed him nothing.

“You could have just told me,” she said.

“I thought it would have more impact if you saw it yourself.”

She wrapped her fingers over the door hand

Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net