Fatal Burn (West Coast 2) - Page 54

“Some,” Travis allowed. “What did they say?”

“A lot. About the fire. About the fact that you were found at the scene of an attack against the woman who’s the natural mother of your child.” Travis steeled himself. The news was only going to get worse; he was certain of it. “Look, I assured them you were a stand-up guy hell-bent to find his daughter, that you wouldn’t resort to any kind of violence.” He paused. “I didn’t lie, did I?”

Travis picked up the remote, turned the television off. “I didn’t start the fire, if that’s what you mean, and I sure as hell didn’t beat the living tar out of Shannon Flannery. But someone did. And yeah, I was there.”

“With a surveillance kit that included a hunting knife, night vision goggles and a loaded .45.”

“I have a license to carry.”

“I know, but the police are interested. More than interested. And there you were at the scene of the crime with your truck parked over a mile away. When they looked inside the pickup, with a warrant, by the way, they found a lot of stuff that didn’t look good including a file on Shannon Flannery complete with pictures, notes and articles from newspapers about her. It seems to them that you might have an obsession with the lady, that you had all the makings of a stalker.”

Travis closed his eyes. He knew this, of course, but hated his nose being rubbed in it.

“You know why.”

“But they don’t.”

“I told them.”

“It’s their job to be suspicious.”

Travis nodded to himself. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror mounted over a small, battered dresser. He appeared haggard. Tired and unshaven. His hair stuck up at odd ends from where he’d continually run his hands through it in frustration, and the lines around his mouth and eyes were deeper than usual. Sweat was beading around his hairline and he looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten in days.

He said, “I thought it would be best if I didn’t go up and beat on her door and make all sorts of accusations before I saw for myself if Dani was around. Thought I’d scope out the place first. Get my bearings.”

“And Dani wasn’t there.”

“Nope.” Travis rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. Conjured up his daughter’s face. Where the hell was she? Where? What sick pervert had her? What was he doing with her? Images of a dirty white van, a torture chamber on wheels, slid through his brain. Oh, God, was she tied up, was the guy hurting her? Torturing her? Forcing her into having sex with him?

His insides shredded and he thought he might throw up. A white-hot fury stormed through his blood. If he ever caught one glimpse of the creep who kidnapped his daughter, Travis would kill him. No questions asked.

“So you don’t think Shannon Flannery has anything to do with her kidnapping?”

“No.” Travis’s voice was raw. “Not anymore.”

“Then you’d better explain all that to the authorities and get your butt out of there. If they’ll let you.”

He closed his eyes again, listened to the air conditioner rattle and wheeze. “Meaning?”

“You’re a suspect, Travis. In the fire. In the assault. That’s the bottom line.”

“For the record, I think this is a bad idea.” Shea was behind the wheel of his truck, driving out of the hospital parking lot.

“You and the rest of the world.” From her position huddled against the passenger door of his truck, Shannon shot him a glare. “I got the message already, okay? You’re not backing out of your end of the deal.”

“Fine.”

She was strapped into her seat belt and tried to pretend that every lurch of the vehicle didn’t send a stab of pain ripping across her shoulder and rib cage. Clutched in her hand was a plastic bag with a bottle of Vicodin from the hospital pharmacy and two pages of instructions from a disgruntled Dr. Zollner. But Shannon didn’t want to take any of the pills until she’d had a talk with Travis Settler. She still had narcotic medications running through her bloodstream so she wasn’t as sharp as she’d like to be, and she didn’t want to add to the fog in her brain.

“Do I look that bad?” she asked.

He crooked an eyebrow. “Worse.”

“I think you’re supposed to be more supportive.”

“And I think you’re supposed to go home and rest.”

She glanced in the mirror. She was beyond a wreck. Shea hadn’t been kidding. And though she didn’t want to waste a second, she needed to avoid looking like the maniac she saw in the reflection. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll pull myself together. Then I want to see this guy face-to-face.”

Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery
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