Rowan Gant - Perfect Trust Part 38

"Aye, that's nice," she said. "What did you tell them?"

"I said I'd have to ask you."

"You know," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "you didn't see what I put on underneath this costume."

She wasn't making this easy, even with the preoccupation that was permeating my brain. I had considered telling her the whole story, but immediately decided against it. There was no reason for both of us to worry over this. Not at this particular moment, anyway. People were depending on her and I needed to let that come first, for now.

I just kept telling myself that Ben was correct. As long as she was with her group and out in the public eye, she was safe.

"As much as I would like to unwrap that package-And believe me, I really, really do," I told her, "I think we should probably go to the dinner."

"Are you sure?" I could hear an audible pout in her voice. "Wouldn't we be intruding on their family time, then?"

"Ben says no," I replied, then added a generic weightiness to the invitation. "It seems pretty important to him that we be there."

"Why is that do you think?"

"Dunno," I said. "But I think it's important enough to him that we should oblige."

"Aye, what I'm wearing underneath came from a catalog, then," she offered in a s.e.xy murmur.

"Felicity..."

"And, I could wait for you under the Yule tree." She gave it one more try.

"Uh huh," I fended her off. "Tomorrow. I promise."

"Okay, then," she pouted into the phone again. "Are you going to make something to take? I'll be late, and..."

"Already taken care of," I cut her off. "He said don't bring anything, so I figure I'll just grab a bottle of wine out of the rack."

"Aye, sounds good," she acknowledged. "How about that eighty-six Zinfandel?"

"The Caswell we bought a case of?"

"Aye, that one."

"Okay."She paused at the other end, and I could literally feel her checking me out on an otherworldly level. "Are you okay, Rowan?"

"I'm fine," I lied. "Why?"

"You sound distant. Like something is bothering you."

"I'm okay."

"You don't FEEL okay to me, then."

"I'm just disappointed that I'm going to miss out on your offer." At least that was only half a lie.

"Hmmmm," she purred again, accepting the explanation, "not missing out, just postponing."

"I like the sound of that better," I said.

"Aye, it will be worth the wait," she murmured. "Trust me."

"Did ya' tell her?" Ben asked as I walked out of the conference room.

"No," I shook my head, "I'll tell her later."

"Row..."

"Hey," I held up my hands to stop his objection, "I convinced her that we should go to your house for dinner tonight. I can pack a few things for her before she gets home and we can both tell her when we get there."

"Isn't she gonna be p.i.s.sed when she finds out that you ran a game on 'er?"

"And what I'm doing is different from what you planned to do, how?"

"Touche."

"In answer to your question, however, yes, she's going to be p.i.s.sed," I told him.

"You know that. But look at the bright side. Your way she would have just been mad at you. My way she'll be mad at both of us."

"Somehow I'm not all that comforted by that fact," he answered.

"You shouldn't be."

"I got a brand new bottle of sixteen year old Bushmills at the house. Think we should get her drunk first?"

"Neither of us can drink that much," I mused. "She'd win and then we'd really be in trouble."

"There are thirty-eight Ash's in the metro phone book," Detective McLaughlin told us. "Spelled A-S-H, right, Rowan?"

"That's what I saw, but it might not have been the whole name," I nodded withmy answer.

"Exactly." She returned the nod. "Which is why we went right down the line on everything beginning with A-S-H. Still, it was a big help to cut out the A-S-C-H's. All totaled there are three-hundred forty-nine Ash's or Ash-whatever's in the white pages."

"That's better than I was expectin'," Ben offered.

"Don't get excited yet." Charlee shook her head. "That's just the metro phone book. We're getting a printout from DMV right now, as well as a computer search on phone books from the surrounding counties. The number is gonna get bigger."

"Yeah, well happy holidays to you too," Ben told her sarcastically.

"Then you're gonna love this. I was talking to Ackman and he asked if we were certain that Ash is the surname." At the end of her sentence she turned a questioning gaze in my direction.

"Honestly, I can't be sure," I shook my head and returned a frown. "So, I'd have to say that it could be a first name."

"Well, that's going to add some more to the pile."

"What about the street number?" I asked.

"No hit so far," she returned. "Not against the names anyway. There's a handful of seventy-five thirty-fours in the metro area alone. Some businesses, some residential."

I seized on the information and posed a different question. "Are any of the commercial addresses Photographic Studios by any chance?"

"No such luck. It would really help if we had a street name, or even a zip code."

"a.s.suming the number isn't part of a zip code to begin with." Ben poured more water on the fire.

"Any way you look at that it puts him too far out of state," she replied. "If you plug numbers in before or after the seventy-five thirty-four you end up with zip codes in Pennsylvania, North Carolina, South Dakota, Texas, and Oregon."

"Yeah, and he coulda moved here from one of those places," Ben remarked. "We should probably make some contacts just in case there's somethin' open that didn't make it into NCIC."

"Shouldn't you be trying to narrow the scope instead of expanding it?" I voiced.

"We'll start pickin' the dolphins out as soon as we're sure the net's full," he told me.

"Okay, so what do we do now?"

"We start looking at printouts and making phone calls," Charlee answered.

"That could take forever," I exclaimed.

She shrugged and shook her head. "Welcome to the fast-paced and excitingworld of police work."

Ben clapped me on the shoulder. "Yeah, what she said. Who wants coffee?"

CHAPTER 25.

I never wanted to see another telephone book or stack of green bar for as long as I lived.

According to the window at the back of the conference room, it was dark outside. We had been at it hard and heavy for a few hours now, and I had lost all track of time. Since, in Ben's words, I wasn't a 'duly authorized law enforcement officer', I wasn't allowed to make any of the actual calls. Instead, my presence had been utilized cross-referencing listings in various phone books against computer printouts and screens full of data on an ancient, out-of-focus monitor.

I was tired, I had a headache, my eyes were itching, and I wanted a cigarette; but, most of all, I was depressed. We didn't seem to have accomplished a thing. In fact, we were still perched firmly in the middle of square one, and someone else was redeeming a free turn card.

"Stick a fork in me, I'm done," Ben announced with a tired yawn as he sat back in his chair. He and Detective McLaughlin had been contacting other police departments within the range of possible zip codes. What I had been overhearing of their conversations had not sounded promising.

"Anything at all?" I asked aloud.

My elbows were resting on the table in front of me and I was holding my head tight between my hands, palms on either side of my face. My brain felt as if it was about to explode, and I couldn't be certain if it was from staring at all the shrunken print, something more sinister, or a combination of both. I had my eyes closed and was slowly ma.s.saging my temples, trying to will the pain away.

"Nada," my friend returned. "And that was the last one, so that's all we're gonna get tonight."

"What about all these numbers from the phone books?" I asked. "Shouldn't we start calling them?"

"And say what, Row?" he contended. "Hi, this is Detective Storm with the City Police Department and I'm just wondering, are you by any chance a crazed serial rapist?"

McLaughlin half snickered and began ma.s.saging her own temples. "Storm's right.

We can't just start calling people arbitrarily without something more to go on.

Besides, what if we did happen to call the right guy? Then he'd know we weregetting close and he'd disappear."

"Yeah, remember the 'South Side Rapist'?" Ben added. "When things got hot and heavy around here Dennis Rabbitt took the whole 'go west young man' thing to heart. The last thing we need ta' do is call the guy and tell 'im that we're on to 'im."

"There's got to be something we can do," I appealed.

"There is," my friend answered. "Call it a night and come back at it fresh."

I opened my eyes as I twisted my arm around and looked at my watch. "But, it's only a little after five."

"Yeah, and it's freakin' Christmas Eve, Rowan," he said. "Remember? Santa Claus, reindeer, divine births of babies in mangers, goodwill towards men? You know, all that holiday stuff? We've done all we can do today."

"What about Debbie Schaffer's parents?" I pushed a b.u.t.ton he had revealed earlier in the day.

My friend frowned at me, hard. The kind of thin-lipped scowl that told me instantly that I shouldn't have ignored the sign next to the b.u.t.ton that said, 'Caution: Do Not Press'.

"Like I said before," he snarled, "it's gonna be a real disappointin' holiday."

"Sorry, Ben," I apologized, "I shouldn't have gone there."

"Yeah, well now that you've been there, do me a favor and remember that."

"Okay, you two," McLaughlin spoke up. "I'm going to leave you to beat each other up by yourselves. I've got a husband and daughter waiting at home for me."

"Big plans?" Ben asked without looking up.

"Scott always makes the traditional t.u.r.ducken for dinner and then we just relax and enjoy being a family."

"What the h.e.l.l's a t.u.r.ducken?"

"A turkey that's stuffed with a duck that's stuffed with a chicken. Oh, and there's sausage in there too."

Ben finally cast an eye over his shoulder with a look that said give me a break. "I was serious, Chuck."

"I'm serious too," she told him with a grin. "Scott's from Baton Rouge. It's a Cajun thing."

"No way."

"Yes way."

"I've had t.u.r.ducken before, Ben," I interjected. "She's not kidding."