Every Precious Thing (A Logan Harper Thriller) Page 2

  “Callie. I’m…I’m sorry I didn’t stay around. I just…”

  “It’s okay, Uncle Neal,” she said, using Harp’s first name. “I couldn’t hang around there, either.”

  “Well, uh…we’re about to grab some dinner. Would you like to join us?”

  “I don’t want to interfere.”

  “You won’t be interfering,” Logan said, coming up behind his father. “I’m sure Dad would like a little more company than just me.”

  “Well, now that he mentions it…” Harp said.

  She smiled and nodded. “All right. Thank you.”

  __________

  LOGAN ORDERED SPICY tuna, while Harp went for his usual. Callie, not as experienced at sushi, decided on the sampler plate.

  As they waited for their food, Harp said, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about your dad.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I know he meant a lot to you, too.”

  “He was a special man. I don’t know what my life would have been like without him.”

  Callie bit the inside of her lip, obviously attempting to keep her emotions in check. Finally she said, “He left something for you.”

  Harp looked surprised. “For me? What?”

  “I don’t know.” She opened her purse and withdrew a padded envelope about an inch thick. “It was in a box of things Dad told Michael and me about. He said once he was gone, we should open it and we’d know what to do. There were packages for several people inside.” She looked at the envelope and then handed it to Harp. “This one has your name on it.”

  Written across the front in thick black ink was FOR HARP. Below this was his address in Cambria. Harp stared at his name for a moment, then looked at Callie and said, “Thank you.”

  As he started to set the package on the seat beside him, she asked, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  Logan was sure Harp wanted to wait until he was alone, but Callie was Len’s daughter, and the package was, in essence, one of his last messages. She’d want to know what was inside, too.

  Harp also seemed to sense this. “Sure,” he said, and set the package on the table.

  A single strip of packing tape held the package closed. Harp carefully ripped it off, then reached inside the envelope and pulled out the contents.

  A book. An old book.

  Harp looked at it, his face growing in wonder. “Oh, my god,” he said.

  “What is it?” Logan asked.

  Harp turned the book so Logan and Callie could see it. It was a hardcover, and though torn a little at one end, the dust jacket was still intact. Arched across the top portion was the title Lost Horizon, below this was a brown illustration of some buildings on a mountain, and at the very bottom was the name James Hilton.

  Logan had read Lost Horizon in high school. It hadn’t been an English class requirement. It was something Harp had suggested he read. And while the story was long dated even then, Logan had enjoyed it enough to read it again in college.

  In almost fearful anticipation, Harp opened the cover, sucked in a breath, then touched the inside near the top.

  Softly, Logan said, “Dad?”

  Harp looked at him, his eyes brimming with tears, and showed Logan what he’d found.

  Written on the inside cover in pen was TOM HARPER.

  Harp’s big brother. Logan’s uncle whom he had never met.

  “I haven’t seen this since before he left for…before he left home,” Harp said. Logan knew his father had only been ten when his brother joined the navy during the war. “He used to have me read parts out loud to him when he was working around the farm. Said it was good practice for me.”

  Logan had never known that. He thought Lost Horizon was a book his father had wanted him to read just as a whim. How wrong he’d been.

  “He took this with him,” Harp went on. “I thought it got lost over there.”

  Callie said, “My dad once told me the day Tom’s plane didn’t return was one of the worst of his life. He must have found the book in Tom’s things and saved it. He probably meant to give it to you long ago.”

  “I didn’t realize they actually served together,” Logan said.

  Harp nodded absently, his attention still on the book. “They were both ordnancemen on PBYs, just on different planes.”

  Callie picked up the discarded packaging and looked inside. “There’s something else,” she said. She withdrew a white, business-sized envelope and handed it to Harp.

  This was nowhere near as old as the book. On the front was scrawled MANILA.

  “What’s that mean?” Logan asked.

  Instead of answering, Harp looked inside the envelope, then closed it again without showing it to anyone else.

  “It’s nothing,” Harp told him. He put the book and the envelope back into the package, and set it on his lap, out of sight.

  There were so many questions Logan wanted to ask—about Uncle Tommy, about the book, about the envelope—but Harp was a million miles away.

  After their food finally arrived, and they’d started eating, Callie glanced at Logan. “Dad mentioned your, uh, trip a few months ago.”

  “My trip?” Logan asked.

  “Where you helped that girl? Brought her back?”

  Logan looked at his father. “I didn’t know we were sharing that with other people.”

  “You can’t seriously think I wouldn’t have told Len,” Harp said.

  Logan frowned, and turned back to Callie. “I got lucky, that’s all. There’s not much of a story to tell.”

  She hesitated a moment. “I’m not asking you to tell me the story. I’m asking you for help.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “HELP? WHAT KIND of help?” Logan asked, hoping he was wrong about where Callie was going.

  “It…it actually wasn’t my idea. It was Dad’s.”

  “Len?” Harp said, looking at her with interest.

  She nodded. “When he went into the hospital last weekend, the doctors told us it was very unlikely he’d be coming out. My brothers and I took turns sitting with him so that he was never alone. He slept a lot, but there were a few times when he’d wake and want to talk.” She smiled at the memory. “He and I, we’ve always talked a lot, and when I became a lawyer, it seemed as if we talked more than ever. Every time I ran into a problem case, he was the first one I turned to. I can’t remember a time when he didn’t suggest something I hadn’t thought about.” She paused. “One night at the hospital, he wanted to talk about how work was going, and about any issues I might be having.

  “I told him I did have one case that had reached a point where I didn’t know what to do next. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something that could be fixed with a creative motion in court or a well-written letter on firm stationery. He said he wanted to hear about it anyway, so I told him. When I finished, I thought he’d fallen asleep, but apparently he was thinking. After a bit, he opened his eyes and said, ‘You need to talk to Harp.’”

  As she said his name, Harp rubbed a self-conscious hand across his mouth.

  Callie shifted her gaze to Logan. “That’s when he told me about what you did for that girl, that you’d gone clear to Asia to find her.”

  “It wasn’t as big a deal as he probably made out,” Logan said.

  Harp frowned. “Don’t listen to him. It was a big deal. If Logan hadn’t been there…” He shook his head.

  Callie’s eyes were still on Logan. “I’ve come to a dead end. I’m hoping there might be something you could do.”

  “I’m sure there is. We’d be happy to look into it, won’t we, Logan?” Harp said.

  Logan adjusted himself in his chair. What he’d done for Harp’s friend Tooney, bringing the man’s granddaughter back, had happened because if he hadn’t done something, no one would have. He wasn’t so sure that was a good habit to get into. Then again, Callie was basically family. You didn’t turn your back on family.

  “What exactly are you hoping I’ll do?” he asked.

  “Fi
nd my client’s wife,” she said.

  Her answer did nothing to dissipate his discomfort. “If you think I’m some kind of missing persons expert, you’re mistaken.”

  “Technically, she’s not missing.”

  “Technically?”

  Callie took a moment to collect her thoughts, then said, “My client’s name is Alan Lindley. A month and a half ago, he and his wife Sara went to San Diego for a long weekend. On their last day, they decided to visit Tijuana. He says they had a wonderful time, but as they were headed back for the border, Sara realized she’d lost her passport and didn’t have any other ID. Alan crossed the border alone to get her driver’s license out of her luggage so they could get her a temporary passport, but when he got to the car, her things weren’t there. Only a note telling him she was gone.”

  “Oh, that’s horrible,” Harp said.

  “I’m sorry for your client, Callie, but people leave marriages all the time,” Logan said.

  Harp shot him a look. “Logan, where’s your compassion?”

  “I have compassion, Dad. But if this woman left, she must have had her reasons.”

  “I’m not finished,” Callie said. “They went to San Diego because they were celebrating.”

  “Wedding anniversary?” Harp asked.

  Callie shook her head. “At the time, their first anniversary was still a month away. Sara came into the marriage with a daughter. Emily is two now. What Sara and Alan were celebrating was that his adoption of Emily had been finalized the week before.”

  “She didn’t take the girl with her, did she?” Logan said.

  “No, she didn’t.”

  Logan shrugged. “I’m still not sure what I can—”

  “Naturally, Alan was distraught,” Callie said, cutting him off. “He couldn’t understand why she’d left. By his account and others I’ve interviewed, they had a great marriage. He came to me because he wanted to find her, not to bring her back if she didn’t want to come back, but to find out why she left. I was thinking it was going to be mostly a divorce case. We have other lawyers in the firm who handle those, but since Alan was one of my personal business clients, I agreed to help track Sara down. I did the obvious thing—hired a detective to look into it.”

  “So what did the detective find out?” Harp asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Logan nodded, expecting as much. “She probably stayed in Mexico. That would make it hard for her to be found.”

  “No, you misunderstand me. He didn’t find anything. Sara Lindley doesn’t exist.”

  A thick silence descended on the table.

  After several seconds, Logan said, “Maybe your detective didn’t know what he was doing.”

  “I don’t waste my money,” Callie said, her tone serious. “I’ve used Joe Fulkerson dozens of times. He definitely knows what he’s doing. Alan’s wife has no history.”

  Harp leaned forward. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Maybe it was a scam,” Logan said. “Did she take any of his money, or something valuable?”

  “No,” Callie said. “The only things missing were a few of her possessions and pictures.”

  Logan’s brow furrowed. “Pictures?”

  “That’s the last thing. When Alan got home, every picture in their house that Sara was in was gone. Even the digital shots on their computer had been permanently erased from the hard drive.”

  “What?”

  “That’s not all. Out of all Alan’s friends and family, only his sister had a picture with Sara in it, and she was just in the background. Apparently, Sara was good at avoiding camera lenses.”

  “But that’s…that’s crazy,” Harp said.

  Callie simply shrugged.

  “Have you gone to the authorities?” Harp asked.

  “That’s…not an option,” she said.

  Harp looked confused. “Why not?”

  But Logan knew the answer. “Emily.”

  Callie nodded. “Exactly.”

  Harp was still lost. “Emily?”

  “Sara’s been using a false identity,” Logan explained. “Which means the marriage, I’m pretty sure, is invalid.”

  “It is,” Callie said.

  “And if the marriage is invalid, then the adoption…”

  Harp stared at Logan for a moment before it hit him. “Oh…oh, no.”

  “If I were to get the authorities involved,” Callie said, “they’d have no choice but to take Emily away. I have a good friend in the FBI, but I don’t even dare ask her for advice. She’d ask me questions I couldn’t answer.” She looked at Logan again. “If this were a simple matter of a wife ditching her marriage, my dad would have never brought you up. But after what we’ve learned, both Alan and I are concerned that Sara is in trouble. If she is, Alan wants to help her, but he can’t if he can’t find her. That’s what I’m hoping you can do. Find her, see if she’s in trouble, then let me know.”

  Logan looked down at his food. He still had four pieces of spicy tuna left, but he was no longer hungry. “I’m not sure what more I can do that you haven’t already done.”

  “Maybe there is nothing,” she admitted. “But you’ll come at it with fresh eyes, and given what I heard happened in Thailand, from an angle that is less…rigid than mine.”

  He glanced at his father, and could see that Harp was fully behind the idea. Helping Callie—and, through her, the memory of Len—was all the motivation his father needed. And if his father felt that way, could Logan really say no?

  “I guess…I could at least talk to Alan. We can see where it goes from there.”

  Callie reached out and put her hand over Logan’s. “Thank you.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CALLIE CALLED ALAN and set up a meeting for the next afternoon. The problem was, Alan lived in Riverside, about an hour’s drive east of Los Angeles, and at least seven hours from San Francisco. Logan and Harp decided that since Cambria was halfway between the two, the best thing would be to drive home for the night, check in at the shop in the morning, then finish the trip to Alan’s.

  “I can be there if you need me,” Callie offered.

  Logan shook his head. “We should be okay.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Unless you think it would be better.”

  “Alan’s a good guy, just a little wound up about things.”

  “I’d be surprised if he weren’t.”

  “If you need me, just call my cell,” she said. “I’ll be at Dad’s house. We’re going to go through some of his things, but it won’t be a problem if you’d like to talk.”

  Harp put his arm around her back. “We’ll call only if necessary.”

  She paused, then smiled. “I can’t thank you both enough. Alan’s always been a good client, but honestly, he’s not the reason I want to do this. It’s Emily. Someday, when she’s older, she’ll want to know what happened. I’d like Alan to be able to tell her.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Logan said.

  Driving south, Logan listened absently to a ball game on the radio, the announcers’ voices helping him focus on something other than how the hell he was going to help Alan Lindley. At some point, he heard paper rustling, and looked over to see Harp reading the copy of Lost Horizon.

  “You want me to turn the radio down?” he asked.

  There was a delay of several seconds before his father glanced up. “What?”

  Logan pointed at the volume control. “Is this too loud for you?”

  Harp shifted his gaze to the dash as if he’d just noticed the radio was on. “No, it’s fine,” he said, returning to his book.

  Logan lowered the volume anyway, but if his father noticed, Harp made no comment.

  “That’s not going to make you sick, is it?” Logan asked a few minutes later.

  Another delay before another “What?”

  “Reading in the car. It’s not going to make you sick?”

  “No.” Harp’s tone made it clear he thought that was a stupid idea
.

  Another few minutes passed. “Dad. What was the envelope Len left?”

  Harp kept his eyes on the book. “Just something your uncle and I talked about once.”

  Logan could tell it was a lot more than nothing, but he had no idea what it could be. The envelope had said MANILA. As far as Logan knew, Harp had never been to the Philippines, and if it was the name of someone his father knew, it wasn’t anyone Logan had ever met.

  But he didn’t push. His father had had a heavy couple of days. Len’s passing was tough enough, but the book seemed to have affected him even more.

  When Harp was ready, if he ever was, he’d tell Logan what was so important about the envelope.

  __________

  LOGAN WAS THE first one to arrive at Dunn Right Auto and Repair the next morning. That wasn’t unusual. Unless he was taking the day off, he was always the first one in. He turned on the lights, opened the bay doors, and started the coffee maker. He then went into the office and checked the work orders on the vehicles he’d had to leave for the others to take care of while he was up north with Harp.

  With one exception, all his projects had been completed and picked up by their owners. Reentering the garage, he saw that Joaquin, the garage’s head mechanic, had arrived.

  “Thought you weren’t coming back until this afternoon,” Joaquin said.

  “Change of plans. I see no one got to Mrs. Galloway’s Miata.”

  “Are you kidding? I tried to get Artie on it, but neither him nor Manny would touch it.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m not touching it, either.”

  The fact that the Miata needed a new transmission wasn’t the problem. It was Mrs. Galloway. To say she was a pain in the ass would have been an understatement. Whenever she brought her car in, it was a scramble to see who could make themselves scarce first.

  “One of you is going to have to deal with it now,” Logan said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “As soon as Dad gets in, he and I have to go out of town again.”

  “Not It!” someone yelled out behind them.

  Joaquin and Logan turned toward the bay door. Manny had just walked in, his bag lunch in one hand, sunglasses in the other.