Part 12 (1/2)

”I'm trying to figure out how one of us can let the other one know if we find her.” I handed her my cell phone. ”Here. I'll find a phone and call you in an hour. If one of us hasn't come across her by then, it'll be time to get Joey on it.”

Susan said, ”Tell me his number. I'll call him now.” And she was right, of course. I told her Joey's office and cell phone numbers. As I climbed into my Jeep, Susan strode through Loutie's side yard toward the alley. Her face was pale and concentrated as she punched b.u.t.tons on the tiny gray flip phone.

An hour later, I called. We agreed to keep going. An hour after that, even over cell phone static, I could hear defeat in Susan's voice.

Randy Whittles and Joey were inside Loutie's house when I arrived. The air crackled with tension, and Randy's ears burned as red as Joey's face. I could have sworn there had been yelling in that room.

I sat and explained everything I knew about Carli's disappearance. Randy added nothing. He hadn't seen anything.

After Susan arrived and joined us in the living room, Joey leaned forward in his chair and propped his elbows on his knees. He looked at the piece of hardwood floor between his Hush Puppies for a few seconds and then up at me.

”Letting a teenage girl slip out of here under our ... under my nose is ... s.h.i.+t. Anyway, after I got Susan's call this morning, I called Randy and then got a few men out looking. I told Randy here to fix his f.u.c.king mess. But, h.e.l.l, it's my fault. I should have been here myself.”

Susan scrunched up her eyebrows. She looked at me and then at Joey and then back at me again. I rolled my eyes and said, ”It's n.o.body's fault, Joey. And n.o.bodya”not even youa”can be everywhere.

”Now, about little Randy here.” I noticed that Randy Whittles sat up a little straighter and glared at me when I called him ”little.” Any man who has gone through what it takes to become a SEAL deserves not to be insulted. I said, ”No offense, Randy. It's just that you look like a kid to an old man in his thirties.” Randy's chest unswelled a little, and he turned the ba.s.s down on his glare. ”Joey, Randy was a.s.signed to keep people out of this house, not keep them in. And you know as well as I do that those are different things. And, on top of that, Carli may have taken off this morning after Randy was gone.”

Joey said, ”Except that Randy had no business leaving here without my okay.”

I said, ”Well, Randy works for you, not me.” And Joey nodded, as if to say, d.a.m.n right he does. ”But I'm not blaming you for anything, and I'm sure Susan isn't either.”

Susan piped in on cue. ”You're the best. Anyone else would be making excuses or covering up, but you're here pointing out nonexistent mistakes and taking full blame.” She walked over and squeezed his huge hand.

Joey said, ”This turned touchy-feely all of a sudden, didn't it?” Susan laughed and slapped him lightly on the top of his head.

I said, ”Now that everything's cuddly again, we need to figure out where our client is.”

Joey said, ”I've got somebody at the bus station. And I've got someone at the airport, even though I doubt Carli's got the money to take a plane to the nearest hub. By the way, how much money does she have?”

Susan knitted her eyebrows again and shook her head. ”I don't know. Carli probably had some tips from her last night at the Pelican's Roost, but I never asked her. Loutie gave her some clothes and bought her a few more.”

Joey asked, ”Have you checked your purse?”

Susan said, ”I don't think Carli would ever...”

”I'm not saying she's a crook, Susan. The girl was scared. Scared s.h.i.+tless of Leroy Purcell from what Tom tells me. Just go check your purse.”

Susan pointed at an antique sideboard against the back wall and said, ”It's right there on the table.” She walked over and looked inside. ”My whole wallet's gone.” She sounded tired.

I said, ”Call MasterCard and American Express and whatever other cards you've got. Check on recent purchases. Tell them your daughter sneaked off with your cards. Say you don't want the police involved, but you want to know if someone tries to charge anything.”

”Will they do that?”

Joey said, ”Sometimes. Not always. How much money is missing?”

”I don't know. Somewhere between two and three hundred dollars.”

Joey stood. ”I'm gonna go call my man at the airport. On Southwest Airlines, that little girl could fly just about any-d.a.m.nwhere Southwest goes for three hundred bucks.” As he stood, he added, ”Randy. Go fix this mess.” Joey walked out, and, in quick order, Randy stood and marched out the front door without uttering a word.

Susan said, ”Testosterone poisoning.”

”That's more than a little insulting, you know.” Susan looked taken aback. I said, ”If a man, every time a woman acted stupid or vain, said she was suffering from estrogen poisoning, he'd be drawn and quartered by every woman and half the men in the room.”

Susan said, ”Okay. You're right. But why are we arguing about this?”

I said, ”Because I'm ticked off about Carli and Sonny and Leroy Purcell, and I want to argue with someone.”

”Feel better?”

”Yeah.”

”Good. What now?”

”I think I'm going to go mess with Leroy Purcell.”

”Why on earth would you do that?”

”Because it seems like the only time we learn anything in this case is when things get stirred up. And I'm tired of the other guy doing all the stirring. This is something I've been giving serious thought to. I want to give Purcell something to think about besides looking for you and Carli. So, I'm going to try to mess with his mind a little and see if I can split his attention and maybe even get him to make a mistake.”

Susan said, ”Can I help?”

I said, ”Yeah. I think you probably can.”

chapter seventeen.

I awoke Tuesday morning in a strange room in Seaside, Florida. A pale blue ceiling floated over the bed. Two sandy yellow walls angled together and formed a square with another right angle of walls painted the blue-green color of shallow Gulf water on a summer morning. The bed's driftwood headboard swirled with hand-painted sh.e.l.ls and fish and mermaids. Found-object sculptures decorated only one sand-colored wall. All other walls were left blank to catch the suns.h.i.+ne and the changing shadows of outside vegetation projected through oversized windows. The room, in short, was horribly and expensively whimsical.

A soft tangle of brunette hair lay on the pillow next to my own sandy head. The covers had fallen away to reveal one perfect female shoulder and a strong, firm rib cage that flowed into that wonderful woman place where narrow waist meets the beginning swell of hips. I ran my hand over the exposed, cool curve of her hip and circled her waist with my arm. My hand moved over the dimple of her navel and stopped at her ribs to pull her warm back against my chest and stomach and her rounded bottom against my thighs. I kissed her shoulder. She stirred and yawned, and Susan turned on her back to look at me.

I propped up on my left elbow, rested my head in my hand, and said, ”Good morning.”

Susan said, ”Morning.” Her voice came out soft and husky with sleep.

I studied her. A friend of Loutie's had visited the house on Monterey Street Monday afternoon and dyed Susan's hair a surprisingly realistic dark brown. The pet.i.te, frizzy-haired magician had even tinted Susan's eyebrows to match.

Susan pulled the sheet up to her neck and laced her fingers behind her head. She smiled. ”What are you looking at?”

I've never quite known what to say when a woman asks that. So, I just said, ”You.”

Susan said, ”I think you're enjoying this.”

”You're right.”

”No. I mean sleeping with a blonde one night and a brunette the next.”

I sat up and put my feet on the floor. Smiling, I said, ”Yeah, I knew that's what you meant.” I heard her weight s.h.i.+ft on the bed, and I should have gotten out of the way. Susan swung a playful but solid fist into my right shoulder blade. I yelled, ”Ow,” more from surprise than pain and jumped up.