Cal held up a finger and spoke into the phone.
"Good evening, ma"am. I"m calling on behalf of Atlanta Police Detective Joe Bailey. I"m sorry for phoning so late. Can you tell me how you know Monica Gaines?" He glanced at Joe."She"s your sister?"
Joe held out his hand for the phone.
Cal nodded. "I see. Please hold for Detective Bailey."
Joe took the phone."I"m sorry for the disturbance, ma"am. What is your name?"
The woman spoke with a slight nasal pinch that reminded him of Monica"s voice. "Lesley Burge. Are you calling to tell me Monica has-"
"No. Her condition is very serious though."
"I know. My daughter"s been ill and I haven"t been able to get away. I"m leaving for Atlanta tomorrow."
"Ms. Burge, I"m calling because Monica phoned you at a time when she wasn"t in contact with anyone else. Did you know that she sometimes disappeared for weeks at a time, and no one knew where she was?"
"No, but it doesn"t surprise me. She probably just wanted some peace. Wherever she goes, people hound her. They think she"s the solution to all their problems."
"For all intents and purposes, she sometimes just ceases to exist. I ran a check and there were no credit card or ATM usages during these times and no phone calls except for these few to you."
"When were the calls?"
Joe looked at the sc.r.a.p of paper. "Several days during the middle of May."
The woman paused. "I"d just lost my job and I was very upset around that time. I think she said she was on a book-signing tour."
"She wasn"t."
"I"m sorry. I wish I could be more help."
"I might need to talk to you after you come into town. Can you tell me where you"ll be staying?"
"The Emba.s.sy Suites Buckhead."
"Fine. Thank you for talking to me, Ms. Burge."
Joe hung up and jotted down the hotel name.
Cal wore a self-satisfied smile."See? Sometimes the direct approach is best. With all this Internet stuff and cross-referencing with this database and that, you can strangle yourself with too much information."
"Don"t do that again, Dad. You"re not on the force anymore."
"Aah, I could still show a lot of those guys a thing or two."
"Yeah, you could. But instead, you decided to go buy a movie theater."
"It was the right choice."
"I think so too."
Cal pointed to the phone. "Did she tell you anything?"
"Not really. She doesn"t know where Monica was or what she was doing."
"Dead end, huh?"
Joe smiled. "She may be a dead end, but Monica"s cell phone isn"t."
A soft orange glow bathed Tess Wayland"s nude figure as dawn broke over the city. Dylan looked at his watch. Six-ten A.M.
"Go back to sleep," Tess whispered. She pulled on a robe and wandered over to the large windows of her hotel room.
"You can"t be going to work already."
"The show isn"t going to produce itself. I slept late today. You"re a bad influence."
Dylan smiled. The night before, he"d been on his way out of the hotel, when Tess spotted him. "Looking for me?" she"d asked.
Another few seconds and he would"ve been gone.
There was dinner, drinks, more drinks, and this. Why was it always so much easier with women who didn"t know who he really was and the things he had done?
"You should come to a taping sometime," she said. "It might be fun."
"Sure. Maybe Thursday?"
"Good. We"ll be in a studio by then."
"At one of the local TV stations?"
"No. A building downtown has its own studio with a satellite uplink. We"re leasing it from them. I told you that the other day, didn"t I?"
"Oh yeah, I think you did." Dylan stood and gently caressed her neck. This was the moment that some of his colleagues might have chosen to eliminate her- one quick twist and a potential loose end would be cleanly removed.
The risk of keeping her alive was minimal, he decided. Plus, her death or disappearance would attract unwelcome attention. He still wasn"t finished with his work here.
"Well?" Tess asked.
His hands fell to her waist."Sure. Sounds like fun."
Captain Henderson stared at the report that the cellular provider had just faxed to Joe.
"They got this to you already?" Henderson asked. "Didn"t they need a court order?"
Joe shook his head. "The phone is issued to Monica Gaines"s production company. They faxed Tess Wayland a waiver and she signed off on it."
"Good." Henderson held up the report."Is this any help to you?"
"It"s the nearest digital relay tower to where Monica made those phone calls. She called from the same place on two different trips."
"And where"s that?"
"Just outside Remington, South Carolina."
"Where?"
"That was my reaction. There used to be a military supply distribution center there, but now it"s pretty much dead."
Henderson handed the report back to Joe."So you know she"s been there at least twice. You think she went there the other times she disappeared?"
"I don"t know. I doubt I"ll be able to find out from her. I just called the hospital, and she"s unconscious. She may not live until the end of the day."
Henderson nodded. "Howe and Carla are meeting with the crime lab guys today. How far away is this town?"
"Less than two hours"drive."
Henderson nodded. "Why don"t you head over there and see what you can find out?"
"Will do."
Joe rolled into Remington, South Carolina, at a quarter past two. It had been a relaxing drive, but the tension returned when he saw the depressing town. An economic bomb had obviously detonated when the army supply depot withdrew.
Closed stores. Gutted buildings. Overgrown yards. The town was in the awful final stages of decay.
Joe glanced around the pothole-ridden streets. What could have brought Monica Gaines to this place?
The one area of activity revolved around a large bar called the Funky Tusk, which had faded Africa-themed murals on each exterior wall. It sat in themiddle of a large gravel parking lot that obviously had been a drive-in movie theater.
Joe parked and walked into the bar. The Africa theme was less p.r.o.nounced inside, where it looked more like the generic seedy bars in south Atlanta. A half-dozen customers were scattered throughout the establishment, some playing pool, some watching a tabloid talk show on a single dim television.
Joe turned to the bartender, a thin, blond-haired boy who couldn"t have been more than fifteen.
"How old are you?"Joe asked.
"Older than you think."The kid spoke with a thick southern accent. "There"s no prize if you guess my age, so you may as well order somethin"."
"Diet c.o.ke."
"All we got is regular."
"Fine." Joe pulled out a photo of Monica Gaines and showed it to him."Seen her in here?"
The kid studied the photo but finally shook his head. "Nah, but I usually only work during the day. Is she your wife? Did she run out on you?"
"Thanks for your concern, but no, I"m with the Atlanta PD."Joe flashed his badge.
The kid put a soda in front of him. "Oh. Your drink"s on the house, then. Sorry I can"t help you."
A jowly, gray-haired woman leaned against the bar. "Let me see her."
Joe showed her the photograph.
The woman"s face lit up. "That"s the psychic lady, isn"t it?"
He nodded."Her name is Monica Gaines."
"She"s been here a few times."
"Are you sure?"
"Play me a game of eight ball and I"ll tell you about it."
"I"m really not a pool player."
"I could tell that about you. That"s why I said eight ball. It"s a beginner"s game. Give the bartender your driver"s license and three bucks, and I"ll meet you at the far table."
Joe did as he was told, and the bartender gave him a rack of b.a.l.l.s. Joe walked back to the table and emptied the b.a.l.l.s onto the table. "What"s your name?" he asked.
"Deanna, after Deanna Durbin. n.o.body remembers her anymore, so I"m stuck with this weird name."
"It"s a nice name. I"m Joe Bailey. When did you see Monica Gaines in here?"
"I"ve seen her a few times over the past couple of years. I thought it was her, but when I asked, she wouldn"t admit it. She wore a cap and didn"t have her gla.s.ses on. I was pretty sure I was right, but the other people here thought I was nuts."
Joe lifted the rack and motioned for Deanna to break."Why was she here in town? Any idea?"
"Nope. I"d go months sometimes and wouldn"t see her. I don"t know why anybody would be here if they had a choice." Deanna fired the cue ball into the cl.u.s.ter and sunk the four."I"m solids."
"Did she come alone?"
"Usually."
"But not always?"
Deanna set up her next shot. "The last couple times I saw her, she was with somebody. I think she met him here."
"A local?"
"Nah. I never saw him before. Or since."
"What did he look like?"
"Okay-looking guy, dark hair, slightly overweight, maybe in his mid-forties."