They were the lights of an expensive speedster.
Panic twisted his insides and made him go stone-cold. Maybe the voice on the phone had concluded that his services were no longer needed.
Or maybe he was imagining things. Lately he jumped at shadows.
He held his breath when he turned into the dirt lane that led to his house. The speedster did not follow him. Instead it continued on down the road.
A dizzying wave of relief swept over him and left him shivering in reaction. He parked in front of the small house and went up the front porch steps, fumbling with his keys. He let himself into the living room, headed straight for the kitchen, and grabbed the whiskey bottle.
He was halfway through his first drink when he heard the knock on the door. Jolted, he nearly dropped the glass. Whiskey splashed on the floor. For a brief moment he considered running out the back door. But without the car, he wouldn’t get far.
Nobody gets hurt.
He put the glass down and went into the living room. Twitching the faded curtain aside, he peered out the window. The weak bulb above the door revealed two people standing on the porch—a man and a woman. The man was carrying a briefcase. He recognized them from the hotel. Mr. and Mrs. Cage. The honeymooners.
He thought about the gossip that had been circulating around the hotel all evening. Something about Mrs. Cage having been accidentally locked in the steam chamber.
He’d had nothing to do with that. He was a bartender. He didn’t work in the spa. What could they want from him at this time of night?
Dread mingled with bewilderment. He gave up trying to make sense of the situation and opened the door.
“What are you two doing here?” he asked. “Are you lost?”
“Kevin Draper?” Cage said.
“That’s right.”
“In that case we have the right house. I’m Simon Cage, and this is my wife, Lyra. We’d like to talk to you.”
“I recognize you from the bar. Look, I heard about what happened to Mrs. Cage today, but I had nothing to do with it, I swear.”
“We want to discuss another matter,” Cage said. “The woman you kidnapped from room two twenty-one earlier this week.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Kevin yelped. “No one was kidnapped.”
He tried to slam the door shut, but somehow Cage’s briefcase was in the way, wedging it open. And now there was a gun in Cage’s hand.
Mrs. Cage smiled a reassuring smile. “We’re private investigators. We just want to ask a few questions, that’s all.”
“But I don’t know anything,” Kevin said. His throat tightened. “You’ve got the wrong person.”
“Please let us in,” Mrs. Cage said. “We might be able to help you.”
Kevin looked at her, desperate to believe she was telling him the truth. Then he switched his attention to the gun in Simon Cage’s hand. Someone had said that Cage was a book dealer who specialized in really old volumes. A man in that line of work should have appeared awkward or even downright ridiculous with a pistol in his hand. But Cage looked dangerous.
“Private investigators?” Kevin said, stalling for time.
Mrs. Cage offered him a reassuring smile and a card.
He glanced at the business card. “Kirk Investigations?”
“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Cage said. “We are not criminals. We’re professionals, and we’re here to help.”
She sounded sincere.
Kevin realized he really did believe her. He backed away from the door. “Okay, but I’m telling you, I don’t know anything.”
Chapter 26
One look at Kevin Draper was all Lyra had needed to know that the gun was not going to be necessary. Draper wanted to talk. He needed to talk. He was out of options and desperate to share the weight of whatever burden he carried.
“You won’t need your pistol, Simon,” she said. She did not take her attention off Draper. “Mr. Draper wants to help us.”
Simon hesitated and then lowered the gun. He did not, however, stash it in the briefcase. He kept it in his hand, pointing at the floor.
Lyra gave the living room a quick glance, taking in the sagging sofa and the threadbare upholstery on the two chairs. The coffee table consisted of a couple of wooden boards perched on four concrete bricks. Evidently Kevin had spent all of his newfound money on the Buick. He certainly hadn’t used it to redecorate.
“Why don’t we all go into the kitchen,” she said. “You two sit down and talk. I’ll make us some tea.”
Simon and Kevin stared at her as if she had spoken in