Page 91 of Gem Warfare

“It could be that Huff needs somewhere to stay while he searches for the jewels. He’s been inside a long time. He may well be craving female company while he rehearses his get-rich-quick scheme.”

It was my turn to grimace. “Can you monitor his calls for the next few days? If he’s here for romantic purposes, he’ll keep calling her. If he’s really just here for the jewels, and he knows they’ve been found, he won’t call her again. She won’t be any use to him now.”

“Good thinking. I’ll call the warden when I’m back at MPD.”

“You know, it could be that he wants both.”

“How so?”

“Well, there’s no man that falls in love faster than a homeless one and he’s potentially going to be that when he gets out.So he romances a woman in the right area in the hopes she’ll be desperate enough for a man to take him home when he’s released. She puts a roof over his head and gives him everything else he needs while he goes out looking for the jewels. But imagine if hedoesreally like her and he’s about to get a huge payday. He’s got it all then. Money, a woman, and a home.”

“That would be something to dream about while incarcerated. Okay, so I’m keeping tabs on his communications anyway. We’ll see what happens.” Garrett leaned in to his dash and sighed. “I need to stop for gas or we’ll be pushing this lump of junk home. Do you want anything?”

“Chocolate,” I said as Garrett pulled into the gas station and parked next to the pump. “I’ll go in. Do you want anything?”

“Get me a chocolate bar and a coffee,” he said. “I’ll be right in after I fill the tank.”

I headed into the gas station mini-mart and browsed the candy bar counter, then got a water from the big refrigerators spanning the back wall. By the time the coffee was pouring from a self-service machine, Garrett walked in. “I have a deep suspicion of coffee machines that also dispense soup,” he said, looking at the machine with mild disgust. “I swear I always get a little bit of the one I don’t want in the one I do want.”

“Yummy,” I said, reaching for a plastic cap. The liquid slowed to a dribble and I extracted the cup, added its cap, picked up packets of creamer and sugar, and carried everything to the counter. Garrett paid, asked for a receipt, and we strolled back to the car.

“What are the other numbers on the call list?” I asked, thinking about another number that had been called a few times. I unwrapped the chocolate and bit into it.

Garrett took a long sip of his coffee and pulled a face. “No clue,” he said. “I taste tomato. Or onion. Maybe chicken. I don’t know. It’s not good.”

“Do you want me to toss it?” I asked looking around for a trash can.

“No, I need the caffeine. I’ll suffer through it.”

Nestled back in the passenger seat, I reached for the call sheet and pulled up a browser on my phone and input the number. “It’s a real estate agent’s,” I said.

“I can’t see him buying a house or applying to rent somewhere. He doesn’t have a bean to his name. I don’t imagine he has any kind of credit either.” Garrett buckled his seatbelt and we headed for the road.

“Me neither, but…” A thought occurred to me. I clicked on the website and searched for the recently sold properties. When I found the listing, I smiled and turned the phone to my brother. “Look what they sold.”

Garrett glanced at the screen, then back to the road as we left the forecourt. “Is that the Dugans’ house?” he asked.

“It is. I think if we spoke to the realtors, we’ll find Huff called about it. Probably trying to stall the sale or find out who bought it and what they planned on doing.”

“Or seeing if it were empty so he could break in and search. He was trying to cover all his bases.” Garrett took the turn onto the freeway back home and accelerated.

“In a clumsy sort of way. He was probably worried the body would be discovered.”

“In that case…” A small bang sounded and the car veered sharply. “What the heck!” Garrett wrenched the wheel. The car listed to the side and continued to slide in an arc as the brakes screamed.

Then another pop.

“Garrett!” I yelled as I braced myself.

The car spun onto the opposite side of the road before hurtling nose first off the edge.

Chapter Twenty

“They’re all flat,” said Garrett. He scratched his head and frowned.

“Allof them?” I stepped closer, peering at the passenger side tires. The front was flat and the rear was shredded. I moved around to the other side, spreading my arms to steady my balance on the small, grassy bank that bordered the length of the freeway before it descended into a dry ditch. The driver’s side tires were equally flat, the wheel rims exposed. “How can they all be flat? And two of them look shredded,” I said, stepping around to the trunk. The car was perched precariously where it came to an abrupt stop as the front thumped into the ditch. I was surprised the car hadn’t slipped and rolled down as we’d cautiously stepped out. I had no intention of tempting fate — and a ton of metal — now.

“They are. That’s what caused the noise before we started to spin. Someone tampered with the tires. One popped and two shredded. The other probably just leaked air and didn’t have time to rip. We’re damn lucky this wasn’t a lot worse!” Garrett glanced at the road. Only a handful of cars had passed in the last hour and we’d been fortunate that the highway was empty as we veered across the oncoming lane.

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