Page 13 of Fire Peak

“We believe it’s been stolen by a known criminal.”

That “we” was doing a lot of work, making it sound as if he was part of something bigger, not just a lone investigator. “Stolen” was too. He knew perfectly well Charlie must have had permission to take the car. And then there was “known criminal.” That was certainly a stretch, but given enough time, he believed it would turn out to be true.

Molly didn’t blink an eye, but the fairy-like woman next to her gasped softly. Despite her youth, she had pure white hair that set off stunning violet eyes. And she was holding a goldfish tank. That must be Lila Romanoff. Two out of Charlie’s three best friends were in Firelight Ridge. No wonder she’d fled here.

Had Charlie really carted that goldfish all the way to Alaska? Nick had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing.

Unfazed by his accusations about Charlie, Molly claimed the car and presented her driver’s license as proof. Just to play along with his role, Nick gave her a hard time about it still being a New York license instead of Alaska. But clearly he had no chance of rattling her.

So he turned his attention to the woman holding the fish tank. Goldilocks, he remembered. Charlie had made her adoption of the fish into a very entertaining saga. “Is that a goldfish?” he demanded.

Lila jumped. “Yes, sir. This is Goldilocks. I rescued her when someone dumped her down the drain. It was a woman whose apartment I was cleaning, and I believe she had a touch of dementia, because normally she loved Goldilocks. I fished her out of the drain and decided she wouldn’t be safe in that apartment anymore. I hope you didn’t come all the way out here because of a stolen goldfish, because I really wouldn’t call it stealing, it was absolutely a rescue situation.”

Nick gave in. Lila might be freaked out by the appearance of an officer of the law, but she wasn’t going to give anything away about Charlie. At least not yet.

He needed to stick around for a while. In a place this small, it would be impossible for someone as unmistakable as Charlie Santa Lucia to hide for long. Then again…he glanced at the sharply angled mountain peaks soaring against the deep blue sky. Miles of wilderness surrounded them in every direction. If Charlie knew how to survive in the mountains, she could lay low for a while out there.

From his research, she was no outdoor survivalist. She was a traveler, a wanderer, a footloose freelancer who didn’t spend a lot of time at her official address in Indiana. A coder by profession, someone who’d run afoul of Hobbs Financial Services for reasons they didn’t choose to share with him.

He eyed the gas station behind the bulldozer. It had two fuel pumps—one for regular gas, one for diesel—and doubled as a mechanic’s shop. The peeling paint on its weathered boards suggested the building had had a rough winter. He’d bet anything that Charlie was inside somewhere.

But he didn’t have any right to request a search. Molly was a lawyer and would ask to see a warrant, or at the very least, a badge.

He needed to find a bar. Bartenders knew everything. He’d find Charlie, one way or another. “Where can I get a drink around here?”

7

On his way to The Fang, Nick took a detour to book a room at the Lamplight Motel, one of the few places in town with Wi-Fi. While he loved the idea of being out of reach, Wi-Fi was a must while he was on a job. In the shabby room, he sent a text to Mark Jones, the head of security at Hobbs Financial Services and the man who’d hired him.

I’ll need a couple days here.

You lost her?

Alaska’s a big place. Oops, he’d forgotten that Jones didn’t do humor. She’s here hiding out. It won’t take long to find her.

Already taking too long. Maybe I should fly out there.

No point until I find her. You’ll just be spinning your wheels.

The last thing Nick wanted was for Jones to show up in person. When he’d taken this job, he’d been asked to find Charlie Santa Lucia, then persuade—not coerce, not force—her to meet with Mark Jones. For what, they wouldn’t say. The meeting could be in person, by phone, by FaceTime, by Zoom, whatever. But it had to be private.

The whole thing felt off to Nick. Usually, he had some idea of his client’s ultimate goals. But Mark Jones gave away nothing.

Nick had long ago decided that Jones would have to be satisfied with a phone call. Charlie Santa Lucia had gotten under his skin, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. He liked her style. He didn’t know what she’d done to get on Hobbs Financial’s bad side, but he was secretly rooting for her.

You aren’t dragging this out, are you? I’ve seen the photos of her.

Nick gave his phone the middle finger. He was a professional. Of course he wasn’t dragging it out. If anything, he was embarrassed by how long this was taking. Maybe he should have intercepted her somewhere in Canada instead.

Just doing my job, he texted Mark Jones.

Get it done.

And thus ended another friendly exchange with his current client.

While he had a connection, he decided to text Hailey. Ever since he’d met her, he’d tried hard to find the right balance of reaching out and not bugging her. Sometimes she loved hearing from him, sometimes she couldn’t be bothered. Was that a teenage thing? Or an “I just met the dad I thought had abandoned me but who actually didn’t know I existed” thing? Whatever it was, he tried to respect it.

Where are you rn? she texted back. Since he traveled so much, that was usually her first question.

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