Already Gone

– 22 –



I pull out of the parking lot and head west toward the highway. There’s no traffic tonight, and as I turn onto the on-ramp and pick up speed, I don’t want to stop.

I feel like I could drive forever.

I think of Diane and wonder if she felt the same way before she died. Was she really on her way to Phoenix, or was she just driving to clear her mind?

It doesn’t take long before my thoughts turn bad, and I do my best to push them away.

It’s not time to think about her.

Not yet.

Instead, I go over everything that I learned tonight and try to make sense of it all. Why would Nolan hire those two men to attack me? And was Gabby right? Was someone else pulling the strings?

If there was, then why didn’t they just get it over with? Why toy with me without telling me who they are or what they want?

And what about Diane?

Why kill her?

Something Nolan said while we were driving into the mountains comes back to me, and it doesn’t go away. He said it wasn’t my fault, not this time.

Did he know something?

If he’d been behind the attack in the parking lot, could he also have been involved in Diane’s murder? Was that why he was the one who took me to ID her body in the middle of the night?

My memories of that night are broken, clouded by the alcohol. Still, drunk or not, nothing about that night makes sense. It didn’t then, and it doesn’t now.

Gabby was right.

That’s not the way things are done.

The more I think about it, the more it burns at me. I’m convinced something is there. All I have to do is put it together.

I look at the clock on the dashboard. It’s not as late as it feels, and I start to think about Nolan.

I can find him tonight.

I can make him tell me the truth.

It’s a bad idea, but it’s all I can think about.





I park in my driveway and walk up to the front door. The porch light is off, and it takes a minute for me to get my key in the lock. Once I do, I open the door and go inside.

The house is dark except for a pale yellow glow coming from the stove in the kitchen. Keeping a light on had been Diane’s idea. She hated coming home to a dark house. It was her habit. Now it’s mine.

I walk down the hall to my office and dig through the papers on my desk. I’m looking for the card Nolan gave me the night he took me to ID Diane’s body, but I don’t see it. I check the drawers and the bookshelves, then turn and walk back out to the living room.

The card is sitting on the coffee table.

I pick it up and flip it over. His cell number is written on the back. I stare at it for a moment and try to decide on my next move. Nolan is my only chance to find the answers I need, and I don’t want to play my hand over the phone. In person, I can make him cooperate.

I take Nolan’s card back to my office. I drop it on the desk, then turn and run my hand along the top of the bookshelf until my fingers touch a set of keys on a small silver ring. I flip through them until I find the right one, then I unlock the bottom drawer of my desk.

My .38 is inside.

I feel an old twinge of guilt knowing I kept the gun even though Diane didn’t want it in the house. I used to get around feeling bad by telling myself I only had it for emergencies. I’m not sure if this is an emergency, but I know I’ll have a better chance getting Nolan to answer my questions with the gun than without it.

I take the gun and a loaded clip and carry them back to the kitchen. I slide the clip into the gun, check the safety, then set it on the counter and pick up the phone.

I dial Nolan’s cell number off the card, pausing a second before hitting the last digit. I think about Gabby’s advice to wait and let him see what he can find out, but I don’t want to wait. All I’ve done is wait.

I want answers, and I want them now.

I dial the last number then put the receiver to my ear and wait for it to ring.

There’s movement behind me, then a voice.

“Jake.”

I turn and something slams against my face.

I feel my nose go, and the world explodes in light. I drop to my hands and knees. Blood pools on the tile floor under me. The phone hits the ground. For a second, I think I hear it ringing, and then I realize the sound is coming from the man standing over me.

From his cell phone.

The man picks up my phone and presses the disconnect button. His cell phone stops ringing.

“Nolan?”

My voice is broken. When I look up, blood runs down the back of my throat and I start to cough.

The floor shifts under me.

Nolan puts the phone back in the cradle, then grabs my hands and pulls them behind my back. There is the familiar click of handcuffs, and then I’m up. He leads me through the kitchen and out the back door. We cross the yard to the wooden gate leading into the alley.

Nolan’s cruiser is parked behind my house.

“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he pops the latch on the trunk and pushes me inside.

I’m lying on my back, looking up at him.

“What the hell are—”

Nolan leans forward and punches me hard in the stomach, and all the air rushes out of my lungs.

“Don’t f*cking talk,” he says. “Just keep your mouth shut, do you understand?”

I can’t breathe, so I don’t speak.

The blood from my nose is running across my cheeks and down my throat. I feel like I’m drowning, and it takes all I’ve got not to panic.

Nolan slams the trunk shut, and I’m in darkness.

I listen for his footsteps, but all I hear is my own rapid, wet breathing. A few seconds later, the car dips and the driver’s side door slams shut. The engine starts and I feel the exhaust settle in my lungs.

I can’t smell it, but I know it’s there.

Once we’re moving, I roll to my side and cough some of the blood out of my throat. My sinuses feel like they’ve been packed tight with gasoline-soaked cotton and set on fire. Breathing through my nose is out of the question.

All I can do is close my eyes and listen to the low buzz of the road passing beneath the tires, and wait.

At least I found Nolan.

And one way or another, it’ll all be over soon.