The Full Story

So had he simply changed his mind about the interview and told his bodyguard to get rid of her?

The more she considered the possibility, the more convinced she grew that that was precisely what had happened.

Billy wasn’t known for his concern about others. The fact that she’d flown all the way up from San Francisco, then risked her life on a killer of a road, wouldn’t count for diddly with him.

But he’d promised her an interview and she was damn well going to get one.

If she expected to ever be assigned serious stories, she had to come through on the lightweight ones. So, if Billy Brent had changed his mind, she’d just have to change it back.

The first step, though, would be getting to him without Daniel O’Neill intercepting her again. And how was she going to manage that?

Trying to march down the driveway a second time was obviously out. And for all she knew there were surveillance cameras mounted in half the trees on Billy’s property. So even if she avoided the driveway and made her way through the woods, O’Neill might spot her.

Besides, if she didn’t stay within sight of the driveway she wouldn’t know where she should be making her way to. Which would not be good.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on trying to sketch a blueprint for action. When not a single good idea came to her, she opened her eyes again—and discovered that the god of happenstance was smiling down.

Heading along the narrow road toward her was a courier truck that had to be going to Billy’s.

Well, actually it didn’t have to be. She’d passed two or three private roads between the highway and his place. But she had a feeling that was where this truck was heading. So all she had to do was make the most of her chance.

After grabbing her purse and camera bag from the seat beside her, she rapidly climbed out of the car and waved at the driver—doing her best to act and think at the same time.

As he slowed to a stop, she offered up a little prayer that she could pull off a plan that had barely begun to germinate in her mind.

“Problem?” he said through his open window.

She did a half-second assessment and decided she had a good chance. His expression was one of fatherly concern.

“Yes,” she said. “Definitely a problem. I turned off the highway just to see what was down here, but it’s a dead end.”

He nodded.

“Then, on the way back, my car died.”

“Want me to look under the hood?”

“Thanks, but it’s a rental and I’ve already called the roadside emergency number. There’s a tow truck on the way, only…” She tried her hardest to look extremely frightened before adding, “I just saw a cougar.”

“Really? You don’t often spot them this time of day. Usually it’s early morning or dusk.”

Good Lord! He sounded as if cougar sightings were downright routine.

“Ah,” she said. “Well, the thing is…seeing it scared me half to death and I’m afraid to stay here alone. So I wonder if I could catch a ride with you to a gas station or…anywhere there’d be people.”

She waited, willing him to say “Sure.”

Instead, he said, “As long as you sit tight inside your car you’ll be just fine.”

“I can’t,” she said, unsuccessfully trying to produce a few tears. “I’m too frightened. I’m sorry to seem like such a wuss, but…”

The driver eyed her unhappily.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said at last. “There’s a rule against picking up passengers. But if you wait here until I’ve made my delivery at the end of the road…”

Ah-ha! She’d known he was heading for Billy Brent’s.

“What if I sat in back while you did the delivery?” she said. “Out of sight? I don’t want to get you in any trouble, but if I have to stay here much longer by myself I’m going to start hyperventilating. I can feel it coming on.”

The man looked even more unhappy; she tried the willing trick again.

“All right,” he finally said. “Climb in.”

“Oh, thank you so much!”

She took half a minute to retrieve her laptop from the trunk—if she ended up needing it, she wouldn’t want to walk back all this way—then she got into the truck.

FROM HER POSITION in the back, Mickey heard Dan O’Neill say “Just a minute” not more than three seconds after the courier spoke into the intercom.

She assumed that the relatively friendly greeting, as opposed to being tackled and patted down at gunpoint, meant he’d been expecting this delivery.

The gate opened, creaking a little in the process, and the truck started forward again.

She quickly finished the note she’d been writing and read it over.

Dear Courier,

Thank you very much for the ride. I didn’t want to inconvenience you any further, so I’ve gotten out.

I’ll just tell these people that my car broke down and I walked here to wait for the emergency road service.

I won’t breathe a word about your helping me, but I really appreciate it.

Your grateful passenger.

As the truck slowed to a stop, she snuck a peek out. And there was Billy Brent’s retreat. Or rustic mansion might be more accurate.

It was a big, sprawling, one-story cedar thing—new trying to look old—with such a large brick chimney that she imagined the fireplace was enormous.

A porch ran along the front of the place, and she’d love to get a shot of Billy sitting in one of its carved rocking chairs. But first she had to find him.

She waited a few moments, until the driver was on his way to the front door, then slipped the note onto his seat, scooped up all her belongings from the floor and slid the passenger-side door open.

The instant her feet hit the ground, she scurried over to hide behind the nearest big tree.

From that vantage point, she watched Dan O’Neill sign for the delivery and the courier return to his vehicle.

He read her note, looked into the back, then simply put the truck in gear and drove off.