Chase's Promise. Lois Dyer Faye
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generally believe hunting people is either easy or exciting—it isn’t. It’s mostly boring, repetitive work with endless knocking on doors and conversations that lead to dead ends.”
She flushed and nodded, her eyes snapping with anger, her lips set tightly.
Chase guessed her pretty mouth was clamped shut to keep from telling him exactly where he could put his ultimatums but he didn’t care. He’d long ago run out of the patience required to deal with civilians who believed the television version of “bounty hunting.” He was good at his job, and sometimes it was exciting and definitely dangerous. Most of the time, though, it required methodical, patient sifting of information.
She’ll be bored and heading for home within forty-eight hours, he thought.
Raine snatched up her bag and purse and followed him out of the apartment, pausing to lock the dead bolt. He couldn’t have been clearer about not wanting me with him. She wondered if he’d go out of his way to be difficult and steeled herself for an unpleasant drive. If she was lucky, she thought, they’d learn something definitive in Billings and she wouldn’t have to be in his company for more than the evening.
Chase had already disappeared into the alley when she reached the bottom of the stairs. A black SUV was parked a few feet away, the tinted windows adding a secretive air to its sleek appearance.
“Give me your bag. I’ll put it in the back.”
Raine jumped. Chase moved so quickly she hadn’t heard him approach. He took the duffel from her and opened the passenger door, waving her in. Raine slipped into the seat and twisted to fasten her seat belt while Chase walked around the back of the vehicle.
Someone breathed loudly in her ear, the sound faintly threatening. Raine glanced over her shoulder and directly into the face of a huge black dog. She froze, afraid to move. His mouth was open, red tongue lolling, and his white incisors appeared razor sharp.
“Killer. Down.” Chase’s voice was calm, commanding.
The big dog sat back on his haunches, giving a low growl as Chase tossed Raine’s duffel on the floor at his feet. Seconds later, Chase slid behind the wheel next to Raine. The engine turned over with a throaty roar and he drove out of the alleyway.
Raine took measured breaths to slow her racing heart.
“He’s…big, isn’t he?”
She felt the scrutiny of Chase’s gaze as he looked briefly at her before returning his attention to the highway. “Not so big for a Rottweiler. He weighs around a hundred pounds.”
Raine felt her eyes widen but she didn’t comment. The dog was within twenty pounds of her own weight. She hoped he wasn’t easily provoked. “Is that why you named him Killer?”
“Not me—Dad named him ‘Killer’ after Jerry Lee Lewis, a badass fifties rock ’n’ roll singer. My parents have a male Rottweiler—Killer’s one of his offspring. The elderly neighbor that raised Killer from a pup died last month and Dad took him back.”
“How did he end up living with you?” Raine was fascinated by the small window into the lives of the McCloud family.
“His choice—not mine. I had dinner with my folks a few days after Dad picked him up and Killer jumped into my truck bed. He wouldn’t get out so I took him home with me. He’s been there ever since.”
“He adopted you?”
Chase shrugged. “Apparently.”
“Brave dog,” she commented.
“Not really. Have you seen the size of his jaws and teeth?” Chase said dryly. “I’m not about to tell him he has to go back to Dad’s.”
His wry humor caught Raine off guard, startling her into laughter.
Chase glanced sideways at her. “Tell me about your brother.” He switched off the radio, cutting off Mick Jagger in midlyric. The silence that filled the vehicle was suddenly loaded with intimacy.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything you can tell me. The more I know about him, the easier it will be to second-guess his actions. Start with his work schedule. You said he lives above the Saloon because of the long hours he works. Did he have any trouble with a customer lately that was out of the ordinary?”
“Not that I know of.” Raine paused, mentally considering her conversations with Trey over the last weeks before he disappeared. She couldn’t think of any comments he’d made about customer interaction that went beyond the usual complaints. “Most of the clientele in the Saloon and restaurant are regulars and local. Every now and then someone starts a fight but Trey hadn’t mentioned any specific problems.”
“Exactly what does he do at work?”
“Everything—he’s completely in charge of managing the Saloon and I’m responsible for the restaurant, although we substitute for each other if needed. Trey fills in behind the bar on occasion, deals with the Liquor Board, acts as bouncer if anyone gets too rowdy, hires and fires employees—everything required of the owner.”
“Has he fired anyone recently?”
Raine shook her head. “No.”
“What about at the restaurant? Any disgruntled ex-employees holding a grudge?”
“Not that I’m aware of. We’re a family-run business in a small town, which means most of our employees have been with us for a long time. There’s always some turnover during the year but we haven’t fired or hired anyone for months.” She paused, trying to remember any incident with an unhappy employee. “I can’t recall any recent problems with employees beyond the usual small issues like scheduling or pay raises.”
“What about his personal life? Any girlfriends with unhappy ex-boyfriends?”
“If there are, I haven’t heard about it. Trey has a lot of women friends but as far as I know, he’s never been serious about any one of them.”
“Maybe one of them wanted more than friendship.”
“Maybe.” Raine searched Chase’s profile but couldn’t read his thoughts. “Do you think Trey’s disappearance is connected to his personal life in some way and not to whoever wrote the letter?”
Chase shrugged. “I’m giving equal weight to any theory. When someone goes missing, it’s often connected to a personal issue.”
He continued to ask questions about Trey. The time seemed to fly and Raine was surprised when the lights of Billings appeared. Chase drove down a side street and angled the SUV into a parking slot a half block away from the neon sign spelling out Bull ’n’ Bash.
Raine looked up and down the street, noting the rough neighborhood. “Charming place,” she said dryly.
“Oh, yeah.” Chase leaned sideways and opened the glove compartment.
His shoulder pressed briefly against hers and the space was suddenly too small. Raine sucked in a breath and pressed her spine against the seat in a vain effort to distance herself but it wasn’t enough. Her lungs filled with the faint scent of aftershave and soap and she felt vaguely threatened by his size and sheer presence, though he didn’t say a word or look at her.
He removed a handgun from the compartment and shifted back into the driver’s seat.
Unnerved, Raine watched as he checked it efficiently, then tucked it into a shoulder holster beneath his denim Levi’s jacket.
“Do you expect trouble?”
He glanced at her and she felt that electric shiver of wary awareness once more. “I always expect trouble.” He got out.
Raine unlatched her seat belt and followed him, determined not to be left behind.
“Stay, Killer. Watch.” The murmured words reached Raine clearly before Chase stepped up on the