The Watchman Read Online Free PDF Page A

never left his face and his clenched jaw made me nervous. “So where do I come in?”
    I pulled Rachel’s phone from my pocket. “I’d like you to take this and make as many calls as possible along your journey. When you get to California, toss the phone into the bay. I hope to throw her husband off the trail. Think you could help me?”
    Howie removed his Stetson, replaced it, and furrowed his brow. “I guess I could do that. Can’t see how it would be illegal.” He pulled out his own phone, looked down at my card and punched numbers. My phone rang.
    He grinned. “Just checking to make sure the card is legit. What are you driving?”
    I pointed to my black Ford Explorer XLT parked out front.
    Howie walked over to the window and wrote my license plate number on the back of my business card. He returned to his seat. “Let me see your driver’s license.”
    When I gave it to him, he scanned it, listed the number, and handed back my ID.
    He nodded. “Give me the phone.”
    I handed him a hundred dollar bill along with the phone. “You need a charger? I’ve got one in the car.”
    “Nope.” He took the phone, but waved the money away. “Don’t want the cash. No man worth his salt beats women and children.”
    I finished my meal and then slapped the trucker’s shoulder as I left. “Thanks. And, Howie, if you ever decide to change careers, I could use a good man.”
    Howie would keep a GPS trace on Rachel’s phone busy for quite a while.
    God loves me.
     
    
     
    Hebron, Wyoming
    At the Hebron exit, I took a right and drove under the bridge to the city’s main drag. Hebron is not a pretty town except in winter. Carved out of the mountain in layers with evergreen trees scattered in patches across the landscape, it only shines when covered in a white blanket, and that happened often at an altitude of seven thousand feet.
    After a stop at Walmart to pick up a throw away phone, I arrived at the office around one o’clock to check my mail and messages. The woman who runs the employment office across the hall stuck her head out.
    “Morning, Mrs. Davis,” I said.
    She closed the door. No good morning. Still sore because I haven’t hired a secretary from her. What Mrs. Davis didn’t understand is that I would love to have a sexy blonde to answer my phone and greet clients. But a private detective was the only profession society deems lower than lawyers, and the pay wasn’t as good.
    Ergo, I couldn’t afford to hire extra help. If business didn’t pick up soon, I couldn’t even afford the office space. I depended on the telephone and voicemail to keep in touch with clients. It might not be sexy, but it was cheap.
    A burst of cold, tropical scented air filled my nostrils as I pushed open the office door and entered the empty reception area. My Hawaiian air-freshener still worked.
    It felt like forty below as I flicked on the foyer lights and heat. I picked up the mail from the faded blue carpet under the letter slot. Mail in one hand, overcoat in the other, I shivered down the hallway past the bathroom on the left to my private cubbyhole. I placed the letters in the in-box and put the coat back on. With luck, the heat would overcome the chill before I froze to death.
    The letter-opener sliced easily through the envelopes as Cody’s call buzzed through my mind like a persistent bee, zeroing in for a sting. I grabbed my newly-purchased cell phone and called the ranch. While I waited for the call to connect, I put away the mail in the desk file. All bills.
    Emma answered, and I asked to speak to Rachel. She picked up the extension. A click signaled Emma had disconnected.
    I cleared my throat. “You haven’t heard from Harry, have you?”
    A slight tremor entered Rachel’s voice. “No. I guess we dodged the bullet one more time. I’ve forbidden Cody to go near any of the house phones.”
    “How are things at the ranch? I’ll find another safe house whenever you’re ready.” I wanted them to stay put,