19 Souls Page 5

  He settled in, chugged his liquid remedy, and then tried to close his eyes and sleep. Within seconds the frayed images from the previous night replayed like a bad horror movie preview. No hesitancy on his part. He could tell that. But the rest was unclear. Out of order.

  He’d woken to an alarm set on his phone. He never set his alarm. Didn’t usually need it. Maybe Cynthia had done that. But how did she unlock it? He twisted in the seat, searching for a spot on his head that didn’t feel as if it was propped against a bed of nails. He didn’t remember if he’d felt like he’d had sex this morning. His body was as groggy as his mind.

  The guy next to him started to snore. The erratic, guttural snorting was far better than his voice had been.

  10

  He hesitated at the gate. Paced a small circle in the midst of the gathered throng anxiously waiting to board the plane he was very happy to have just disembarked. His head was no longer pounding, but his chest was tight. Was she waiting up ahead to speak to him? As promised, Jim felt much better. He wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with her right now. Breaking his own rules and the issues it would most likely cause going forward angered him. By all rights …

  “Aww. You waiting to walk me to my car?” He turned to see her maneuvering around someone’s overturned bag. Didn’t slow her down a hitch. She moved with the grace of a tiger.

  He shook his head and bit his lip at the thought of the sleek line of her hips. “Not really.” He squared his shoulders. “I should drop this case, Ms. Hodge. I have the names of a couple other capable investigators in the city. I can get any of them up to speed in an hour.” He realized he was looking at the stained terminal carpet instead of her. Coward.

  “What happened between us last night … ” He raised his head to meet her gaze. The amused smirk on her face was demoralizing. He deserved it too. There were a few lines he just did not cross. Seducing a client was one of them.

  “Don’t be silly. It’s not like you took my virginity, Jim.” She leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You follow that lead you got. Let me know what you find.”

  “I think it would be best if you contracted with someone else. I apologize for my behavior in Fort Worth.”

  “Jim, I really appreciate your commitment to being moral or following some PI’s ethical code. But we had a few drinks and we had a good time. We’re both past the age of playing at making a good time into a lifetime. It was fun. It was in Texas. Today we’re back here and you have a job to do. A job I’m paying you very handsomely to do.”

  “I … ”

  “Really. I won’t become some love-struck teenager over this. I expect you won’t either.”

  He really needed this job. And was genuinely curious as to what happened to Dan. So far, the facts didn’t line up. Nothing pointed to drugs being the reason this boy went into hiding.

  He wasn’t sure he was relieved to be keeping the job and the cash or worried that she was more of a shark than he suspected. “Ms. Hodge. Please allow me to pursue the leads without following me. If I find your brother, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Her shoulders fell and she let out a huff that reminded him of a teenage girl not getting her way. “Are we really going back to this formality, Jim?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Fine. I will take your request under consideration, Mr. Bean.” The cold eyes and aloof look of the businesswoman from their first meeting returned. Good. He could manage that. Naked and beautiful, not so much. “However, this is my case, my brother, and my money. If I choose to be involved, I will. Now, go do your job.”

  With that, she turned and stalked down the terminal with nothing but a small carry-on bag.

  11

  “You no look so happy, my friend,” Ely said in a fake second-rate Mexican accent as Jim disconnected his call. Ely often did strange things, so an acute-onset accent was not a real shock.

  “Strange client.” He turned to see Ely talking to Annie as she sat on his counter. The cat glared at Jim’s friend. Beside the fact that he was the best tech guy Jim knew, Ely was gracious enough to watch Annie when Jim was traveling or spending days on a long stakeout. Ely’s urban loft was her second home.

  The guy had served in Nam. A POW. He let small bits of experiences of his tour and his time in the hands of the enemy slip every now and then, but he never told the whole story. He was a badass then and a smartass now. And he was the best hacker in Vegas. The guy was older and weirder than any of the young bloods in the tech game and many lawyers didn’t like Jim to use Ely because he wasn’t a reliable witness. But even stoned, he was the best, and most of his cases never saw the inside of a courthouse. Jim knew when to use Ely.

  Annie ducked Ely’s attempt at physical contact. “I was talking to her. Don’t so much care about chew, man.” That cat loved to play hard to get. She darted up the counter just out of Ely’s reach and then plopped back down to stare blankly and twitch her tail at the two men. “But now that you mention it, you do have the look of a man wid bad hemorrhoids.”

  “Annie’s just hungry. I have a missing man that is really missing and his sister is a serious control freak.”

  “She the client?”

  Jim knew what Ely was getting at. He gave him a shrug.

  “She have the cost of admission, hombre?” Ely poured Annie’s food from a container kept under the counter. The bowl was a permanent feature on his countertop. While eating, she let Ely run his skinny fingers down her back.

  Jim put his phone in his backpack. “Yeah. Cash.”

  “Then you got no beef with telling the chica what you doing with her money.” He gave Jim a creepy grin that showed way too many stained teeth.

  If only it were just the giving of information. Jim still felt a little off from his drunken liaison with Cynthia Hodge. His head no longer hurt but his lack of concentration lingered like a bad odor.

  “You here to take Annie home?” Ely asked.

  “Not yet. Let’s see if we can get anything from First Texas Federal on Daniel Hodge. Savings, ATM card, anything.”

  “Shit. I hate bankers, man. Almost as much as jowers. But not as much as creepy cable guys.”

  “What is a jower?” Jim was sure the man was stoned out of his mind. He checked for the smoky haze that hung around the high ceilings. The place was an abandoned lawyer’s office. Ely bought the run-down building several years ago. It was one of the few pre-seventies buildings in the area that had not been demolished and replaced with a huge hotel. Trump must have missed the listing. Vegas loved the new and shiny. The upstairs to this unique place sported two rooms that now served as bedrooms and a gallery that was—in the past and still today—a library.

  Jim’s guess was the literature wasn’t original to the law office. Who knew? He hadn’t spent any time up there. From down here, a good part still looked like law books. The big change was artistic. Ely crafted disturbingly large metal sculptures of eagles and dragons suspended from metal and wood railings around the galley. It was a bit freaky from the ground floor to have them looming overhead all the time. But it was not his place, and Ely loved them.

  Enough pot smoke to give Jim something of a contact high lingered. Maybe he could use the buzz to clear the cobwebs.

  Ely held up Annie. “Jowers. You know, attorneys.” He shook his head, kissed Annie. “Sorry, girlfriend,” he said to Annie and put the cat on the floor. “Got to work for the man.”

  Jim wasn’t sure if he was trying to imitate a Mexican accent or if he’d done a Cheech and Chong movie marathon again. Probably the latter. “Can we drop the Spanglish?”

  Annie let Ely scratch under her chin one more time before she darted for the stairs. Ely slid behind one of the terminals on his wall of servers, routers, processors, and lord knew what else. The man could find out what an FBI agent scored on their entrance exam. Tracking down a bank account should be fairly easy.
It wasn’t a local bank, so Jim had no connections to call upon.

  Movement high and to his right caught his eye. Jim turned to see Annie circle then settle down in her favorite spot, right on the back of an eagle sculpture closer in size to a VW than the national bird. She loved the precarious position. It used to make him nervous, but Ely had moved a big cushy chair under it in case she ever rolled over in her sleep and took an unintentional dive. After all, she was hanging out near the smoke zone.

  Keys clacked at the pace of Morse code. Green lines of text tracked across the screen. Ely grumbled. Jim made his way back over to the kitchen area and opened the fridge.

  “I made margaritas this morning!” Ely sounded excited. “Have one. They’re amazing, man. I got some Herradura from this dude for fixing his satellite feed. Good shit.”

  So that was the inspiration for the Spanglish this afternoon. “You got high-dollar tequila and decided it was a good idea to dilute it with juice and salt? No thanks.” He was ready to be home with his own scotch and his own bed.

  “Ding, ding, ding,” Ely sang out and threw his hands up as if he’d scored a winning field goal.

  “What you got?”

  “I found a K. D. Hodge.” Jim moved closer. “Utah, baby.” He typed into a window and brought up the database Jim used to track people. They found two listings for K. D. Hodge in Utah. One was a small loan from a boat dealer. Paid in full two years ago. The second an account with First Texas Federal.

  “Dude’s got no car registration, nothing in that name. If that’s your boy, he is playing a serious game of hide and stay hidden.” Ely scratched the back of his head so hard Jim thought he’d draw blood.

  “If he’s a junkie … ” Jim started.

  “No dammed junkie lives in Bryce Canyon, Utah. Seriously?”

  Mountains, red rocks, tourists, and canyons are not the perfect place for someone with a serious drug habit to hang out, blend in. “There is a possibility.”

  Ely pulled up the Wiki page for the city of Bryce Canyon. Amazing nature shots of snow-covered rock formations and summer hikers neatly placed alongside the printed history, both natural and cultural, for the area. The last shot in the slide show was of happy travelers riding horseback through the spires and standing stones

  “Of course. That’s it.”

  “Dude’s on a dude ranch!” Ely’s sly giggle was more spooky than maniacal. “Gotcha.”

  12

  The Broken Spur Inn was just ten miles ahead according to the hand-painted sign Jim had recently passed. He’d rolled down his window a ways back as the elevation rose and the numbers on his car’s thermometer fell. It was under 50 degrees at the moment. The air gushing into the car felt like heaven after forty-eight hours in Texas and returning to 102 in Vegas. Back home it’d still be 70 even after dark. His phone vibrated against his leg before he heard the ringtone. The number displayed on the screen made him grit his teeth. Cynthia Hodge. At least he was almost there. Too late for her to follow tonight.

  “Bean,” he fired.

  “Where are you?” No greeting. She’d turned cold fast.

  “In my car.”

  “Funny.” But she didn’t sound amused at all.

  He hadn’t meant to be. “It’s best not to aggravate your investigator, Ms. Hodge. Slows down the progress of the case.”

  It was best not to sleep with clients too, but …

  She laughed. “Really? Well, I wouldn’t think looking for an update would constitute aggravation. But you seem to dwell on being unhappy, Jim Bean. Maybe you should see a counselor to help with that pent-up aggression of yours.”

  Five years of counseling and his therapist was as done with him as he was with her sessions. “Shit doesn’t work. I’m still angry.”

  “Maybe one day you’ll tell me exactly what you’re so angry about. Maybe I can help. You ooze hostility. I can feel it in the way you move, the way you look at people. Even the tone of your voice screams asshole. My guess is there’s a correlation to the women in your life, but I’m no therapist.”

  Shut up. He wanted to snap it at her. But he was still spending her money in hopes of getting lots more of it. “I’m on my way to Utah. Actually, I’m in Utah as we speak. Weather’s great. You shouldn’t come.”

  There was a moment he thought the call had dropped. “Utah?”

  “Lead on an old loan. The account was closed a couple years ago, but I’m checking it out. Gonna circulate his picture around the local dives.” He saw another hand-painted sign on the right. It was in much worse shape than the last one. A splintered sandwich board only two feet high, tilted and half hidden in the red sand. White with black lettering. Broken Spur This Way! Under the words was a crude arrow missing more paint than not.

  “Utah’s a big place. What city?”

  “Bryce Canyon area. Seriously, there’s no sense you rushing out here, Cynthia.” He used her first name, tried playing it calm enough so maybe she’d believe he wasn’t hiding anything. “I’ll call as soon as I know if Dan’s here. I’ll wait for your instructions once I know. Okay?”

  Again the line was silent. The racket from his open window blocked any cellular noise from the conversation. It sounded empty. For a second an eerie sensation crawled up his neck, tickling his hairs. Like someone was watching him. But the road was dark.

  “All right, Bean. I’ll give you this one. But I want to be alerted as soon as you lay an eye on him. Don’t talk to him first. You got me?”

  Jeez, pushy woman. “I got it.”

  She hung up. That time he was sure of it. The beeping of the call dropping. Cynthia Hodge was pissed. He smiled as he pulled up to the Broken Spur Saloon and Inn and parked in front. A second entrance for the saloon was on the left side of the building. More cars parked over there than out front.

  He pulled the picture of his prey out of a folder and tucked it in his shirt pocket. It was dead-on midnight. A few people were heading in the direction of the saloon entrance. The rest of the night was dark and quiet. He had a sneaking suspicion Cynthia Hodge was packing her bag.

  The lobby area was only populated with a couple swapping DNA on an overstuffed couch. As expected, the inn’s decor was a stylized version of the early West. A carving of a howling coyote and two boot-shaped lamps sat on the front desk.

  Romeo pried his lips away from his pretty little Juliet’s lips. “Jay will get ya up at the bar.”

  Jim nodded. He headed toward the blaring country music off to the left, past the elevators. The saloon entrance was marked with swinging doors. He pushed in, wondering if people really enjoyed such over-the-top gimmicks in their travel accommodations. He just wanted a bed and bottle. Looked like he’d have both tonight.

  Didn’t take him long to track down Jay. She was the only one tending bar and her nametag was a dead giveaway. He was an investigator, after all.

  After supplying a large number of long neck bottles to a tiny waitress, Jay turned to him. “What’ll you have?”

  “A room and a scotch.”

  “Reservations?”

  “Bean, Jim Bean.”

  For an instant, Jay looked like she was going to say it. Beam, like the whiskey? But given she was a bartender, had bright intelligent eyes, and had possibly already seen his name printed out on her list of late arrivals, he correctly decided she would not.

  She fingered through a couple papers next to her register, then handed him a key envelope. At least they weren’t still using metal keys like in Texas. “212. Upstairs at the back. Nice view in the mornings.” She poured the scotch without waiting for a reply. “Anything else, Bean, Jim Bean?”

  “Kitchen open?”

  She retrieved a small menu. “Just bar food. All full fat and all full flavor.”

  Jim glanced and ordered the burger without much thought.

  She went off and attended to other customers. His
stomach was as empty as the canyon out there and wasn’t particularly happy about the scotch after the hangover from hell and the drive up here all in one day. He took another sip and turned to scan the room. From what he’d seen online there were only two real bars in the area. This was one. The other was a ways up north. His glance rested on each male face, trying to compare them to the picture of Dan in his head. None matched right off the bat, but the picture was old. Men changed. Grew facial hair. Went bald.

  Jay set his food and a glass of water in front of him like it was a drive-by. She didn’t slow a step on her way to service the small crowd. The plate was just as he expected. Burger too. Huge and dripping in cheese and barbecue sauce. The best he’d ever tasted. Given the state his body was in, boot leather would probably sate his appetite.

  Jay came back to check on him.

  “Let me ask you something.” He slipped the pic of Dan and Cynthia onto the counter.

  She looked down, blinked, and her gaze snapped back to him. Oh. She was good. Covered her recognition fast. But Jim had seen the glint for a half beat. She shook her head.

  “You don’t know which of the pair I was going to ask you about.”

  “Don’t matter. Even if I did recognize them, you know we got a kind of doctor-patient confidentiality thing going in this business.”

  He smiled. “Nice. I’m looking for Dan. He’s not in trouble. His mother’s ill and his sister asked me to help find him.”

  She managed an eye roll in combination with the lash flutter. She was cute and smart and a hell of a bartender. “You think I’m green enough to fall for that?”

  “I think you trust your gut.” He pulled out his card. “I’m a PI, not a cop.” He slid it over to her. “His mom’s in a rest home outside Las Vegas. Her time is short.” That might have been exaggeration. Anyone her age was short on days in his opinion.