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She didn’t laugh.

“Dispatch a unit to Whitaker’s place on the mountain, too.”

“We don’t have a unit, not so much as one deputy who isn’t at another emergency,” she said. “And wait a sec…the roads up on Wildcat Mountain are so steep, they’re shut down. I just got the call. They’re impassable up there, and a chopper won’t work in this mess.”

The mountain retreat was his lair…Carter felt it in his bones.

“Call the forest service. Get some of their equipment. Find a way to get up there and get back to me.”

“Jesus, Carter, why not ask for the moon while you’re at it?”

“Just do it, damn it, BJ,” he said, impatient. Every minute wasted was a minute Jenna Hughes was with the psycho.

He clicked off his phone and turned to Sparks. “It’s Seth Whitaker. He’s our guy.”

“You’re sure?” Sparks was skeptical as they walked into the den.

“He’s an electrician. Lives fairly close. Has only been in town two or three years.”

Sparks was shaking his head. “That’s still real thin.”

“No reason not to go visit him.” At the bottom of the steps, Carter turned into the den. Jenna’s daughter was seated in a corner of the couch, a hand-held video game in her lap, but her eyes turned toward the window. “Hey, Allie,” Carter said, careful not to lead her to a conclusion. “Does the man who took your mom have the same build of anyone you know, anyone who might have been at the house?”

“Maybe.” She was still scared to death, regarded Shane with wary eyes.

“Like who?”

“Like the bodyguard, big like him.”

“Tall and muscular?”

“Yeah…” She turned away, scratched at her cheek.

“But you didn’t recognize him?”

Her face squeezed together. Tears slid from the corners of her eyes.

“Leave her alone,” Rinda said. “Carter, enough!”

She was right.

The kid had done all she could.

He walked into the kitchen. “Can you stay with them?” he asked Sparks. “Until I get back.”

“I’ve got to be here for the M.E. and the D.A. As long as the crime scene team is here.” His cell phone jangled and Sparks answered. The conversation was short. His dark eyes narrowed and he snapped the phone off. “GPS found the location of t

he phones, along with Turnquist’s. Looks like they were ditched along Wildcat Road, east of here.”

“On the way to Whitaker’s place.”

“On the way to a lot of places, but yeah.” Larry nodded. “You think he’s our guy?”

“I’d bet on it. Call the feds. Send backup.”

“You’re going up there?”

“No other choice,” Carter said and was out the door and into the freezing weather. “Get me a search warrant.”


Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery