Heedless (The Hellbound Brotherhood #4) - Shannon McKenna Page 0,31

being pulled in every goddamn direction right now, and I can’t indulge your random curiosity without good cause. Be reasonable.”

“Never mind, Chief,” he said. “I have FBI contacts who can access the DMV database for me, no problem. I just contacted you first as a courtesy because I thought you’d prefer to be in the loop. But if it’s too much trouble, I’ll just go through my other channels. Please, don’t worry about it.”

“Now just you wait a goddamn minute,” Chief Bristol said gruffly. “I don’t want you running around doing any of your damn vigilante bullshit in my town. I get enough of that with those Trasks boys. They’re going to put me in an early grave.”

“I hope not, Chief. In any case, sorry I bothered you. Just forget I called.”

“Oh, stop jerking me around,” Chief Bristol snapped. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll see what I can do.”

Nate wandered across the street, monitoring the strangers inside the Bakery Café with his peripheral vision as he sipped his coffee. The first guy was on his phone, hunched down over his sandwich. Nate would have given a great deal to hear what he was saying. A bug at their table like one of Kimball’s would have been perfect.

But he couldn’t lurk out there forever, so he went back toward his car to finish his coffee. The three men came out of the Bakery Café after a few minutes, the well-dressed man still yapping on his phone. They got into the Audi, and drove away.

He wanted to follow them. Intensely. But if he used his bugged, tagged car, Kimball would be able to follow every fucking move he made. Of course, Kimball had no stake in this, but Elisa had enough difficulties without him drawing Kimball’s toxic attention to her.

He had to go dark before he could do anything at all. That took some doing.

He pried the phone case of his hacked smartphone open and took out the battery. Then he headed out to the rental car place and parked there, waiting for it to open. Brad, the clerk, finally stumbled in and opened the place up. With some friendly bullying, he managed to rent a Jeep. It was an unfortunate, eye-catching cobalt blue, but he was lucky to get anything at all with a four-wheel-drive without getting a reservation in advance. It wasn’t bugged or microchipped, and that was about all that could be said for it.

He drove back to Elisa’s apartment. Just as he was parking, the chief called him back. “Yeah?” he answered. “Chief Bristol? What have you got?”

“Nothing you’re going to like,” the chief said. “It doesn’t fit the story you’re telling yourself.”

“Just give it to me, please.”

“If you’re hoping he’s a hardened criminal mastermind, you’ll be very disappointed. He’s just a blood-sucking lawyer from San Francisco. A big shot district attorney, no less. There’s chatter about an upcoming gubernatorial race. He’s exactly the kind of well-heeled tourist that Shaw’s Crossing needs, so let’s not scare him away before he spends some money here, you hear me? Are you reassured? Tell me you are.”

“His name?” Nate insisted.

He could hear Bristol sigh on the other line. “Goddamn it, Nate—”

“Please, Chief. Just his name. I swear, I won’t hurt the guy.” He hesitated. “Not if he doesn’t try to hurt me first.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that? Like a terrier with a bone.”

“Yes, sir, absolutely. The name?”

Another sharp sigh. “If you make me regret this, I swear to God, I will tear you to pieces,” he warned. “His name is Gilbert Clemens.”

“Okay. Thanks. Later, Chief.”

“Be good, Nate.”

“Always,” he promised, closing the call. He pulled out his as-yet uncompromised virgin smartphone, and checked out the name online.

There were images of Gilbert Clemens all over the internet. The guy was relatively photogenic, and he got around. Parties, concerts, awards ceremonies, ribbon-cuttings. Then a headline caught his eye. After Months, Still No Break In Abduction of DA Gilbert Clemens’ Wife.

The fuck? Abduction? Wife? He asked the internet about ‘Gilbert Clemens’ wife,’ and stared at the resulting page full of images, his mouth open.

It was Elisa.

Captions identified her as Louisa Roarke, daughter of famous, reclusive and quirky tech genius billionaire Terrence Roarke, who had died two years before. She’d been married to Clemens for almost four years now. There were many photos of their lavish wedding online, attended by business titans and film stars.

Elisa looked utterly different in the photographs. Still beautiful, but shiny, like a new penny. Her