that time of morning should have been heading in the other direction. But the closer he got to Pacific Avenue, the more congested it became. Then, two blocks short of where he’d been planning to turn, he came to a complete stop.
After the car in front of him made a U-turn and headed back in the other direction, he decided to do the same, then turned on the first side street he saw and parked. From there, it was only a few minutes walk to Aaron’s place.
Before he reached the intersection with Pacific, the reason for the delay became clear. Two police cars were pulled across the road, blocking off Pacific Avenue north of Washington.
Logan felt a tingling sensation at the back of his neck, and picked up his pace. When he reached the corner, he spotted several emergency vehicles parked just down the block. He could also see half a dozen fire fighters rolling up hoses and packing equipment back onto their trucks, their work apparently done.
Like the street, the sidewalk that ran in front of Aaron’s place was also blocked, but the one on the other side only had a small area taped off directly across from the fire trucks. Some people were gathered along the part that was clear, watching the action, so Logan headed there.
In his gut, he already knew what he was going to see, and he wasn’t disappointed. Where Aaron’s little house—his bungalow—had been, there was now a charred pile of debris. The side that had once been part of the property wall was gone, leaving a gaping hole. Logan could see the rest of the property through it. Though it looked like the fire had spread, the other buildings appeared to have received only minor damage.
Apparently, just cleaning the house hadn’t been enough for Aaron. He’d decided to burn the place down to make sure there was no trace of him left. Logan had no proof of this, of course, but once again, he wasn’t buying the coincidence.
Moving further down the sidewalk to get a better look, he could see that there was no part of the bungalow left untouched by the flames. If Aaron had left anything behind that could have helped Logan find Elyse, it was completely destroyed now.
Logan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Expecting it to be Ruth, he was surprised to see his dad’s name on the display.
“What?” he asked, not in a particularly talkative mood.
“What was Elyse’s boyfriend’s address? Don’t think you gave that to me.”
Logan eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Well…em…when I told Tooney what you said when you called last night, he wanted to come down and see it himself. We couldn’t talk him out of it.”
“So you let him go?”
“Of course not. He’s in no condition to drive. We came with him.”
Logan whipped his head around, looking at the crowd on the sidewalk. “Where are you?”
“Sitting in Barney’s car.”
“Dad! Where specifically?”
“Oh, we’re stuck in traffic on…”
Barney spoke up in the distance. “Washington Boulevard.”
“Washington Boulevard,” he repeated. “Down by the beach. Venice, I guess.”
“You guys should have just stayed at home,” Logan told him.
“I’m sorry! You tell Tooney that.”
Logan closed his eyes for a second. “Never mind. Just…just tell Barney to pull over and park anywhere he can. I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”
Harp’s voice became distant. “Logan’s here. Says for you to find some place to park and he’ll meet us.”
“Call me when you’ve found a spot and tell me where you are.”
Logan hung up and headed back to Washington, arriving just in time to see Barney’s Volvo make the same U-turn he had earlier. Only instead of parking on a side street, Barney pulled into the lot of a strip mall, and found a space there.
Logan weaved between the cars and crossed to the other side. Just as he was walking up to Barney’s car, his cell started to ring again.
His dad was in the front passenger seat, phone to his ear, so Logan tapped on his window. Harp turned in surprise, then smiled, and hung up.
“Hi, son,” he said as he opened his door.
Logan gave him a quick hug.
“Have you found her?” Tooney asked. He was stretched out on the backseat, a grimace on his face.
“Still looking,” Logan said, wishing he had a better answer.
“Scoot. Scoot,” Harp told his son, shooing Logan out of his way so he could get out.
Once his father closed the door behind him, Logan said, “Tooney shouldn’t be traveling. What were you guys thinking?”