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Thirty-five

“IT WAS EXTREMELY NICE of Phillip to let us use his extra truck,” Riley said fifteen minutes later as she climbed into the driver’s side of the 1970 burnt-orange Chevy so Grey could work, running everything he could find on Expressive Wellness and its employees.

“He’s a good guy,” Grey said, shimmying his laptop out of his backpack.

“Anything?” Riley asked, a half hour into their drive for Cruces. The snow was easing, the sun’s rays poking through the cloud cover. It streamed through the windshield, warming her face despite the frigid temps outside.

She checked the rearview again, but no sign of a tail— yet . But they would be coming, of that she had no doubt.

“A money trail,” he said, “but one that holds more questions than answers.” He shook his head. “The retreat center is owned by Lansing Global. It’s a shell company if ever I’ve seen one. No board of directors, a PO box for an address, and the banking is done through an institution known for shady customers in the Bahamas.”

“Bahamas?” She smiled.

“That’s what you picked up from that?” He chuckled.

“It’s freezing here. Investigating in the Bahamas sounds really nice right now.”

“True.”

“Anything on the staff?”

“I pulled up the retreat employee page and scrolled through the faces and bios. In addition to Jared, I recognized them all from our stay, save two, a Brent Walters and a Steven Marandi.”

“The latter being the man with Kevin in the mesa.”

Grey nodded. “I dug deeper into both. Brent has a record for assault and possession of an illegal firearm. A military-grade assault rifle not approved for individual citizens to own. Steve is former Army.”

“So both have training with or own firearms. Great .”

“And Kevin, he’s former Marines. Dishonorably discharged.”

“Brown Eyed Girl” chimed on her phone. “It’s Deck.” She put it on speaker and answered. “Hey, Deck—”

“You’re going to want to turn around.”

“Why?”

“Joel just got a call from a witness who spotted a woman matching Kelly’s description and a man matching Jared’s at a clinic in Kayenta.”

“Kayenta? Rerouting.”

Grey pulled it up on the GPS.

“It’s a four-hour drive away.” Thankfully, they hadn’t made it too far south. “Let’s pray they’re still there.”

“According to Joel, he talked to a helpful nurse at the clinic. She said the pair came in, and the woman had an injury, but the nurse wasn’t allowed to say what. Although she did share that they paid cash and left quick.”

“Any idea how bad an injury?”

“She said the woman would need some recovery time.”

Riley glanced at Grey. “You think they holed up somewhere so she could rest?”

“That’s my line of thinking, but this is your area,” he said. “What do you think?”

“I think sitting still is dangerous ... but moving injured and risking more injury will just slow them down. I bet they found a motel in a neighboring town and are shacked up for at least a day, maybe two.”

“Joel’s talking with the county sheriff there now. Bringing him into the loop,” Deck said.

“Hopefully, he’ll keep Joel in it.”

She tapped the wheel as the December wind rattled the windows. “I guess our question about whether Jared is after Kelly or with her just got answered. No way he’d take her to a clinic if he was there to harm her.”

She glanced over, and Grey met her gaze. “They’re in it together,” he said.

“So if Jared’s not chasing Kelly, then it’s got to be Brent who’s after them ,” she said, looking back at the road.

“How do you figure?” Deck asked.

“With Kevin and Steve after us, it only leaves Brent missing from the retreat. My money is on him.” She exhaled. “Let’s just pray we find them before Brent does.”