Against the Edge. Kat Martin
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Название: Against the Edge
Автор: Kat Martin
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы
isbn: 9781472015464
isbn:
Claire’s interest picked up. “Do you know where he was from?”
The redhead’s gaze never strayed from Ben. “He never said, but I think it was somewhere in the South. He talked about having brothers and he said he liked to hunt. Once in a while, I noticed a Southern drawl.”
Ben turned to Claire. “You notice it?”
“We didn’t talk that often. I hadn’t thought about it until now, but yes...I think he did have a slight Southern accent. Not too much, but some.”
Ben returned his attention to the woman behind the counter. “Troy ever mention a boy named Sam?”
She shook her head. “Not that I recall.”
“Is there anyone else I could talk to about him, someone who might know where to find him?”
“Not that I know of. Troy was a real loner, you know? He did his job and left. He never hung around with the other guys.”
Ben took out his wallet and handed the redhead a business card. “I’d really like to speak to him. If you think of something that could help me find him, Ms....?”
“Ferber. Tracy Ferber.”
“Ms. Ferber. If you think of something that might help us find him, I’d appreciate it if you’d call me on my cell.”
“Okay’” she read his name on the card, gave him a flirty glance “’Ben.”
Claire fought the urge to roll her eyes. She felt Ben’s hand at her waist, directing her toward the door, then they were outside heading for the car.
“That was a big fat zero,” she said as she settled in the passenger seat and buckled her seat belt. “Unless you were looking for a date.”
“Funny. We got a lead. Bridger may be headed home and that might mean he’s moving south.”
“But we don’t really know.”
“That’s the way it works, Claire. You collect the bits and pieces, keep adding to them, see which ones fit, which ones don’t. Pretty soon you begin to get a picture.”
But all of that took time and time was something they didn’t have. “Where to next?”
Ben started the engine. “I’m going over to his apartment. I’ll talk to the landlord if he’s there, try to get him to let me in. If that doesn’t work, I’m going in anyway. I’ve got his address programmed into the GPS. I’ll drop you off at your place on the way.”
Claire leaned back in her seat. “Not a chance. There might be something there. I want to have a look.”
Those blue eyes pinned her where she sat. “You understand I’m going in’one way or another?”
“Just drive, frogman.”
Ben Slocum actually smiled.
Five
Troy Bridger lived in a run-down neighborhood not far from LAX. The apartment building had cracks in the plaster’probably earthquake damage’and the blue paint had faded to a washed-out gray. Unit four sat on the bottom floor, the curtains partially open. There was no on-site manager and no one around.
The sun was moving west, the afternoon waning as they walked up on the porch and looked through the windows. The apartment was cheaply furnished, but Ben could see no one was living there.
“I’m going to take a look inside,” he said. “Why don’t you wait for me in the car?”
“If you’re going in, so am I. I might find something you miss.”
“Breaking and entering’s a crime, angel. You’d be smarter to stay out of it.”
Her chin went up. “I’m going.”
Ben just shook his head. “I’ll go round back and find a way in, come back and open the door. Whistle if someone’s coming.”
Her pretty green eyes widened. “I don’t know how to whistle.”
Amusement slid through him. At least Claire Chastain was keeping him entertained. “You’ll think of something.”
He headed around the corner to the rear of the building. Behind the apartment, each ground-level unit had a small fenced yard. Bridger’s had enough dog crap to tell him that Pepper had definitely been in residence.
Using a credit card, he opened the cheesy lock on the back door into the kitchen. The good news was, the place hadn’t been cleaned. He made his way into the living room, past a worn tweed sofa with a couple of springs sticking out, and opened the front door for Claire.
As she walked inside, her nose wrinkled at the musty, unpleasant smell. “It looks like he’s been gone awhile. Thank God the cleaning crew hasn’t been in.”
Smart lady. “Doesn’t look like the cops have been here, either. Maybe the landlord wouldn’t let them in without a warrant.”
“The Robersons convinced the police Sam ran away, so they probably didn’t try to get one.”
He made a quick sweep of the living room and bedroom. “I don’t see any sign of a kid being here. Sam disappeared eleven days ago. If Bridger took him, they must have headed straight out of town.”
“Let’s make sure,” Claire said.
He nodded. “I’ll look in here. You take another look in the bedroom.”
Claire disappeared into the other room while Ben made a slow sweep of the living room, looking for anything that might have information they could use. All he saw were old movie-ticket stubs, dirty Kleenex, candy wrappers and empty foam cups. Nothing of any value.
Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he took out one of the small brown paper bags he carried for evidence collection, tucked the cup inside for a DNA sample.
He wandered into the kitchen, found an overdue electric bill on the counter. The wet garbage had been carried out, but a lot of paper trash remained. He used a pen to poke through litter here and there, looking for any scrap that might lead to Bridger.
His eye caught a haphazardly stacked pile of what looked like opened, discarded mail. Bridger’s name was on the envelopes and flyers, most of which were advertisements. All but one. A VISA credit card statement. The card had recently been canceled. This was the closing statement. No charges. No money owed.
It had been mailed to unit four but the name on the envelope wasn’t Troy Bridger. It was Troy Bennett.
Bingo.
He refolded the piece of paper, stuck it back in the envelope and shoved it into his hip pocket. Looking up, he saw Claire walking back into the living room, her eyes wide, her face as pale as cotton.
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