Chapter Seventeen

Marlie's scent was still in his lungs, her taste lingering on his tongue like a good thirteen-year-old bourbon. The soft curves of her body melding against his, coming inside her warm, wet body… Those moments were forever burned into his memory, and they weren't solely about the amazing sex.

He and Marlie had some weird kind of connection he'd felt the day they'd met. Like he could say anything to her. Last night, he'd confided something he'd never told another living soul, not even his parents—what had gone down between him and Gracie that final day, and that, deep down, he'd felt like a coward for not telling anyone. Except Marlie. For a moment there, she'd actually had him rethinking that maybe it hadn't been his fault, after all. There really was something special about her, so much more than she allowed the world to see.

She was not only a beautiful, sexy woman, but a kind, understanding person of more character than he could ever achieve himself. If only there was room for such personal and emotional luxuries in his life. But there wasn't, and he was a jerk for taking her to his bed. Didn't help that she was sitting less than two feet from him.

"Are you buckled in?" Marlie turned to Noah in the back seat.

Early morning sun blared through the window, glinting off the rearview mirror. Noah had his head glued to the tablet he'd loaned the kid to keep him occupied during the drive to Wyoming.

"Yes," Noah answered without looking up.

Blue had lain down, taking up half the bench seat. His big tongue lolled from the side of his cracked jaw. Absently, Noah dug his fingers into Blue's thick fur—fur Evan had gotten a mouthful of when he'd turned over in the morning to reach for Marlie and found a German shepherd instead.

Marlie adjusted the air vent and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing the cute little lobe he distinctly recalled sucking into his mouth right before he'd fallen asleep. She wore jeans and a purple sweater he hadn't seen before.

He couldn't keep his lips from twitching. Last night, purple had swiftly risen to the top of his "favorite color" list.

He took the exit for I-25, making sure Brett's SUV was behind him. At this hour, traffic heading north away from Denver was light, so he punched the Explorer up to sixty. He tapped a finger on the wheel, worried he and Marlie hadn't had a few minutes alone this morning to have "the talk" that, in his experience, all women seemed to need after having sex with a guy for the first time.

She must have slipped from his bed after he'd fallen asleep, and this morning, with Noah sitting at the island counter chowing down on cereal, there hadn't been an opportunity to exchange more than an awkward "good morning." As awesome as it was, sex with Marlie had been reckless, but they'd both needed it.

Did he regret it? No way. Could he let it happen again? Again, no way.

The moment a sixty-five-mile-per-hour sign came into view, he stepped on the gas. Not having the sex talk wasn't normally something he worried about. Not because he hadn't cared about the women he'd slept with. It wasn't about them—they'd all understood he wasn't about to settle down.

His personal life was going nowhere. In fact, he had no life, only a job. Settling down wasn't something he could allow himself to do. Not now. Not that he thought after all this time he'd find Gracie alive, but he was on the verge of at least finding out what happened to her. He had nothing to give, and Marlie deserved more.

That stupid organ inside his skull was going in two directions. The last thing he wanted was to hurt or disappoint her. Eventually, he'd do both. That didn't stop him from wanting to be with her again.

The phone he'd locked into a dashboard cradle rang. Deck .

"Yo, you're on speaker," he said after answering. "Marlie and Noah are here. We're headed up to Wyoming. Brett's about a hundred feet behind me."

"Actually," came Brett's voice, "I'm here, too."

"Sammy's right next to me," Deck said. "She ran Manello's financials."

"Hi, Evan," came Sammy's cheerful voice. "Get this, the man's got no credit cards."

Evan frowned. "Unusual, unless you don't want anyone to know where you've been, where you're going, and how you live your life." All juicy tidbits a person's credit card charges indicated.

"True that," Deck agreed.

"We got a quick return from the one and only bank he's got an account with," Sammy continued, "and this is odd, too. For the last five years, basically since he opened his own company, the ending monthly balance in the account is always low, just enough to avoid low balance fees. As soon as payments come in from his customers, he withdraws the cash."

"So he's either stuffing it under his mattress, or it's going someplace else." Evan thought back to Manello's house. Not an estate, by any means, and his one and only registered vehicle was the company van that had been—and still was—parked in his driveway. "What about investment companies? They won't show up in credit histories."

"Possibly," she agreed. "Especially since every other month or so there's a nine-thousand-dollar deposit made to the account, keeping him below the IRS 10K Currency Transaction Report requirement. Like his customers' payments, that money doesn't stay in the account longer than a few days before he withdraws it."

"On top of being smart enough to not leave a credit card trail, he's savvy enough to structure his money to avoid unwanted attention." He hadn't figured Manello for being so financially street smart. "Can you see where the money came from?"

"Purple Dream, LLC. It's an anonymous corporation in the British Virgin Islands. Since I know there may be a marijuana link to your case, Purple Dream, by the way, is one of the most popular strains of marijuana of all time. It's also the name of a pretty purple tulip."

Great . Not only was it an offshore company, but even if they went through DOJ and INTERPOL, the bank would never disclose the names and contact info of the owners. "For the moment, we'll consider that account a dead end. Even if we manage to get a response from the bank it would never be in real time." And his gut told him time was running out. With another boy missing, something was happening with this case. Whatever it was would happen soon. "Let's hope the warrant for Manello's emails gives us something to work with. Deck, let me know when the return comes in."

"You got it," Deck said.

"Any word on the missing Lakewood kid?" Marlie's conjecture that the latest missing boy had something to do with the camp losing Noah seemed spot-on.

"No," Brett said. "Sorry, man."

"Did you get the list of properties I sent you?" Sammy asked.

"Yeah." Before they'd left the house, he'd scrolled through Sammy's emails. Several Wyoming properties matched Noah's general description and were about two hours north of the farmers market.

"Couple more things," Deck said. "Tony wanted me to tell you it looks like Noah's mitt was wiped with some kind of leather cleaner. Other than Noah's, there were no viable prints on the mitt. The note had his prints and yours, but that's it."

So far, Manello was turning out to be smarter than he'd figured the man for. "You said a couple things. What else have you got?"

"I checked with Tori, like you asked me to," Deck continued. "She can't confirm it, but it's possible Noah's discharge papers containing Marlie's address were left out on the nurse's station desk right around the time that guy was looking for him."

It wasn't exactly good news, but maybe he hadn't missed a tail after all, and it hadn't been his fault Noah had been tracked to Marlie's apartment.

"Before you go," Deck added, "Tori's doing a final head count for the wedding reception on Saturday. You never sent back your RSVP card. She wanted to know if you were bringing Annelise. I told her probably not, but I'd ask anyway."

In his peripheral vision, Marlie arched her brows, looking thoroughly pissed. Inwardly, he groaned louder than a roaring lion.

When Tori and Deck had sent out the wedding invitations, he'd still been seeing Annelise. The natural assumption for Marlie to make was that he'd cheated on his girlfriend by sleeping with her last night.

Even if Manello was arrested before the wedding, he wouldn't chance leaving Noah unprotected with John and Margaret still out there. He cleared his throat. "Annelise and I split for good. Any chance I can bring two guests? Marlie and Noah?"

"What?" Marlie's head whipped around so fast he thought it would fly off her neck. "No!" Anger flashed in her eyes, hotter than a blow torch.

"Yes!" Noah leaned between the headrests. "I've never been to a wedding."

"Sure," Deck said. "I'll let Tori know you'll be a plus-two."

Before Marlie could slice off his gonads, Evan ended the call.

"I— we ," she amended, including Noah, "are not going to any wedding." She sat back with a huff, crossing her arms.

"But I wanna go." Noah leaned farther forward, giving Evan a glimpse of the eagerness on the kid's face. "C'mon, Marlie."

"No." She shook her head, more vehemently this time and putting more emphasis on that one little two-letter word. "Besides, I don't have anything to wear to a wedding."

"I'll buy you whatever you need," Evan countered.

"Noah doesn't have anything to wear, either."

"I'll buy him what he needs, too." Because he wasn't taking no for an answer. "This is strictly for Noah's protection." Was it the sole reason? If he quit bullshitting himself, there was something else egging on his invitation. I want her to go. I want Noah to go, too.

"Forget it." This time she didn't bother to shake her head.

"I can't." Keeping one eye on the traffic ahead, he hazarded a glance at her. "Is this about Deck bringing up my ex-girlfriend?"

"No. I just can't go with you. I can't—"

"Can't what?" What was going on here?

He glanced over to see her lips compressed tightly. She took a deep, shuddering breath and swallowed. This wasn't anger. It was fear. If this wasn't about his ex, then what—

Understanding hit him like a clap of thunder. If he wasn't driving, he'd smack both his hands to his forehead.

Since the death of her son, she'd been avoiding human contact as much as possible, until she had it down to a science. She'd sold her house, gotten divorced, then quit her job as a school psychologist and become a night custodian, all so she could avoid more pain. Attending events like weddings, where couples in love were starting a new life together, would be like squeezing lemon juice on an open wound.

My bad didn't seem to cover it.

He reached for her hand. "I'm sorry. Brett and I are co-best men. I have to be at that wedding, but I can't leave you and Noah alone." He squeezed her fingers. "I know this will be hard, but I'll be there with you every step of the way."

"I'll be there, too." Noah reached over and rested his hand atop Evan's.

"If you really don't want to go, I'll arrange for other agents to stay with you and Noah." Even that was problematic, since most of them would be at the wedding. "Just think about it. Okay?"

With a sigh, she dragged her other hand down her face. "Okay."

…

Ninety minutes later, and with the Welcome to Wyoming sign behind them, the self-recriminations hadn't stopped. What was I thinking to even agree to think about it?

She hadn't been to a wedding in years, and that was by design. Watching her friends tying the knot and starting their brand-new, happy-shiny lives while hers was imploding wasn't something she could handle anymore. She'd always sent gifts and made up an excuse as to why she was a no-show.

The last such invitation she'd declined had been on a lovely Saturday afternoon. While one of her friends was walking down the aisle, Marlie Parker—soon to be Marlie Foxe again—was trudging down the hall to her divorce lawyer's office to sign papers. Baby showers were even worse.

Her stomach roiled and pitched, but maybe not as much as it used to when she received a wedding invitation in the mail.

Evan glanced at her again. "Do you want me to pull over? You look ready to puke."

Noah and Blue craned their necks between the headrests. Blue licked her cheek.

"You don't look that bad," Noah said. "You always look pretty. Just not right now."

"I have to agree," Evan said. "I mean, about you always looking pretty."

Blue let out a soft huff , as if in agreement. It was like Evan's and Blue's minds were linked at the brain stem.

She turned to Noah, managing a quick smile. "Thank you." Blue licked her again, this time on her chin. "Thank you, too, Blue."

Evan shot her a quick, slightly lingering look before returning his eyes to the road.

At least she had the answer to her question about whether he was seeing anyone. Last night, when they'd slept together, she'd assumed he was single, which was ridiculously na?ve. She'd actually harbored the silly notion that maybe there could be something between them. In the cold light of day, the truth was no longer so optimistic.

When Deck had asked if Evan was bringing Annelise to the wedding, part of her had been angry, while the other part had been relieved. It would have made the inevitable parting of the ways that much easier, and they would part company.

"Are we there yet?" Noah asked. "There's no wifi out here."

"Just about." Evan pointed to an eighty-mile-per-hour speed limit sign, the first one they'd seen since leaving Colorado.

For the entire two-hour drive, Noah had been wide awake, using Evan's tablet to read up on his favorite baseball teams and players. He'd slept well last night. So had Evan. After he'd fallen asleep, she'd slipped from the bed and gone downstairs to check on Noah. For the first time, he hadn't been tossing or turning. He'd been sleeping soundly, with his arm draped over Blue, spooning the dog. When Noah had come upstairs, the dark circles that were typically under his eyes were gone.

"How do you know where to go?" she asked as Evan took the exit ramp.

He braked at the stop sign. "We're about two hours north of the farmers market, and twenty miles or so north of Cheyenne. South of here, the speed limit is still sixty-five, so we had to head farther north." He pulled up an address on the GPS app on his phone. "Sammy, the intel specialist you met at my office, did a geographical search based on the time to get here and Noah's description of the camp. White houses, big metal buildings. There are some here fitting that general description." He turned left onto a two-lane highway with no other vehicles as far as the eye could see. A few houses dotted the sides of the road, all with wood plank fencing surrounding the properties. "Noah, I need you to pay close attention from here on out."

"Okay." He rested his forearms on the edges of the front seats, peering through the windshield.

They drove for another few minutes before Evan pulled over and parked on the shoulder. He grabbed the phone from the console. "Brett," he said a moment later. "It's a dead-end road. Stay out here and let me know if anyone else turns in."

He ended the call and turned onto Painted Sky Road, an unpaved road barely wide enough for two cars to pass without one of them going into a drainage ditch. "Does anything look familiar?" he asked over his shoulder.

"No." Disappointment echoed in Noah's voice. "Not yet."

Dry, brown brush on either side of the road seemed to go on forever. The Explorer dipped and rolled on the uneven surface. A large ranch house came into view, surrounded by wood fencing and a few animal enclosures, one with sheep, one with cattle. Several outbuildings loomed in the distance behind the house.

"Anything?" Evan asked.

Noah shook his head. "No."

They crawled for another minute until the road dead-ended at a large gate. More fencing, higher than the others they'd seen, extended in both directions east and west of the gate.

"There are buildings here?" she asked. Beyond the gate, the terrain dipped low. No buildings were in sight.

Evan nodded. "They show up on Google Earth but not on the county survey map. That's common here. Wyoming doesn't have as many laws on the books as most states, so there aren't as many permit requirements and not as much government oversight. That's exactly why some people move here."

"So they can hide things. Like a camp that takes advantage of runaways."

Noah scrunched his face, narrowing his eyes as he stared straight ahead.

"Are you remembering something?" she asked.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Why don't we get out?" she suggested to Evan. "Maybe something outside will jog his memory."

With the engine still running, they got out and stood in front of the massive metal gate. There were no address signs or any indication of who lived here. The only sign someone did live here was the black call box on the gate. Blue trotted to the gate, sniffed, then lifted his leg.

"Take your time," Evan said to Noah.

Noah stared past the gate, turning each way.

"Try closing your eyes," Marlie suggested. "Listen to the sounds. Smell the air."

The air was calm, with only a light breeze that brought with it the smells of animals. Judging by what they'd seen so far, probably cattle and sheep.

Noah did as she suggested, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. "The sheep smell is like I remember, but…" He shrugged, looking dejected.

"But you can't say for sure this is where Frank took you?" Evan asked. Noah shook his head. "Can you tell if this is the place you drove from when you were hiding in the back of the truck?"

Marlie realized Evan had just asked the same question two different ways. He was being patient with Noah, but she could see the lines of frustration on his face. This wasn't enough to get the FBI a warrant to search the property.

"Can we go in and look for Caleb?" Noah asked.

"'Fraid not." Evan shook his head. "To get in there, I need a search warrant. I can't get one unless I have what's called ‘probable cause.'"

"What's that?" Noah asked.

"It means I need to be a hundred percent certain this is the camp you were at."

Blue sniffed the other side of the gate, the side with the call box. Evan went over and pushed the button. A minute later, there was still no response. Again, he pushed the button with the same results.

"Let's go." He indicated the SUV, looking back over his shoulder. Marlie couldn't see what had grabbed his attention, but he went back to the call box and pressed the button again. As before, no one responded.

He kicked at the gravel in front of the box, then backed away, looking at the ground.

"What is it?" she called out.

"Wait inside the Explorer."

She and Noah returned to the SUV, watching Evan and Blue walk about thirty feet along the fence line to the left of the gate, then the same to the right side. Before getting back in the Explorer, he snapped a few photos on his phone.

"Did you see something?" she asked.

Staring straight ahead, he strummed his fingers on the wheel. "There are cameras positioned along the fence line in either direction."

"Is that normal? Do most farms in Wyoming have this much security?" People guarded their privacy so much these days, anything was possible.

"Maybe. Then again, it's a helluva security system for a farm." He turned the vehicle around and headed back the way they'd come. "There are a few other properties I want Noah to look at."

He turned back onto the main road. In the sideview mirror, she glimpsed Evan's friend's SUV fall in behind them. Some of the animals in the fenced enclosures had drifted to the edge of the road. They weren't sheep, like she'd originally thought. They were llamas.

"Stop!" Noah pointed. "There! I saw them a few minutes after we left the camp."

"Llamas?" Evan pulled over. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." He nodded enthusiastically as he rolled down the window and took a deep breath. "They stink. Worse than sheep."

Marlie wrinkled her nose as the cloyingly thick animal scent invaded the passenger compartment. She had to agree. They did stink.

"Now can we go back and look for Caleb?" Noah asked. "I think that was the place back there." He indicated in the direction they'd just come from on Painted Sky Road.

Noah might think that was the place, but she knew that wasn't good enough. Evan still didn't have probable cause.

"Not yet. Sorry, pal. A lot of places in Wyoming have llama farms. Llama hiking companies are big tourist attractions, and a lot of farmers harvest their wool for sweaters." He pulled back onto the road. "But it does give me a couple of ideas."