Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)(109)

“Did you call Connie’s? Doc’s?”

“Yeah, she’s not there.”

“How long ago?” Mike asked.

“Fifteen minutes or less. I would’ve looked outside sooner, but I was rolling dough and thought maybe she’d slipped by me and just went to our room. I gotta go down the street, see if she’s around….”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go, too,” Mike said. “Brie will stay here, stay with Chris.”

“It’s wrong,” Preacher said, shaking his head. “This is all wrong. She doesn’t do things like this. She always says where she’s going. She’s real, real careful.”

Mike and Brie connected eyes. Brie frowned. “Go check with the neighbors.” She slipped a hand inside her purse and pulled out a wallet. She opened it and withdrew a business card and lifted the phone off the hook. Preacher was out the back door, fast.

“What are you thinking?” Mike asked.

She leveled her steady gaze on him. “That it’s wrong, like he said. Go on, and hurry back. Maybe you can get one of the neighbors to help you knock on doors. I’ll make a couple of calls. See if I can learn anything.”

Mike went the other direction, back to his SUV. He unlocked the glove box and pulled out his revolver, just to be ready. He hooked it on his belt and caught up with Preacher down the street. By the time they got down to Joy’s house and the Carpenters’, they had two women who were willing to do the door-knocking so they could go back to the bar. “Be sure to ask, everywhere you go, if any strange vehicles have been seen, if any unusual noises were heard,” Mike instructed.

Just as they returned, Jack was getting out of his truck followed by Mel with the baby bundled against her. Rick pulled up behind the bar, reporting to work after school. They all walked in together to find Brie standing behind the bar, a very unhappy look on her face. “Okay,” she said. “The A.D.A. is contacting the sheriff and local police in the larger towns. Someone is going to try to locate Lassiter in L.A., see if he can be found. I’ve reported Paige missing. Maybe this can be cleared up with a few phone calls. Meanwhile, let’s see if we can find her around here.”

Preacher’s face fell. “Oh, Jesus,” he said in a breath. “He did this. I know he did this….”

“We don’t know that he came here, Preacher,” Brie said.

“That’s the only thing that could’ve happened. Paige wouldn’t disappear like that. Her car’s here, f’chrissakes. Her purse. Her son!”

“There’s no evidence of a crime. Yet,” Brie said. She reached into her purse again, this time pulling out a Glock 9 mm. She slid it out of its holster and checked it for a full magazine and one in the chamber, then returned it, tucking it into the holster and her purse. “You men should go look around town, call the outlying farms and ranches from Connie’s and Doc’s to keep this phone clear. Somebody look in that old church, very carefully,” she said. “Mel and I will stay here with Chris, and if we have any trouble, I can take care of it. I’ll answer the phone here.”

“You’re carrying?” Mike asked, stepping toward her.

“Hmm. It was necessary,” she said. “And yes, I know how to use it. And no, I’m not afraid to do so.”

Preacher was already out the door when Jack said, “Necessary?”

“It’s not all that unusual to be threatened,” she said. “Not for a person in my job. The people I prosecute are dangerous, often violent. And…I no longer have an armed husband in the house, you’ll remember.”

“Brie…”

“Not now, Jack.”

“Yeah,” he said unhappily. The idea of his baby sister being threatened just added to the tension he was suddenly feeling. He agreed with Preacher—something bad was going on. Paige had relaxed quite a bit, but she was still very skittish about being far from Preacher—it had only been about eight weeks since Lassiter got out of jail. He went to use Doc’s phone to get Jim Post en route to Virgin River from Grace Valley, in case they had to extend their search. Jim had worked undercover for the DEA before retiring and marrying June Hudson and he knew a lot about hidden camps back in the mountains.

In an hour nothing turned up in town, nor had anyone on the ranches and farms they called seen or heard anything. But then the bad news came via phone. A couple of calls had revealed that Wes Lassiter had purchased airfare to Eureka from L.A. the day before. He couldn’t possibly have carried a firearm with him unless it had been secretly and illegally packed in checked baggage, but he had rented a car. And there had been one truck theft in Fortuna in the early hours of the morning. A farmer’s ’83 Ford, tan, went missing. There had been a rifle in the rack.

“He’s got her,” Preacher said. “That’s it, he’s got her.”

“If that’s true, they’re going to find that rented car not far from the farmer’s property,” Brie said. “Fortuna police are taking a look around immediately.”

Preacher went straight to his quarters while everyone stood around, looking at one another. Within five minutes he was back, putting a couple of vests, rifles and sidearms on one of the tables. He also had jackets and flashlights, because night would come and it would get cold and dark. He was ready to move, whether or not he had more information.