Ginger’s cell phone bill. Anthony held it up like it was a check for ten million dollars. Lecia’s own heart beat in rapid succession.
“Now what?” she asked. Her voice brimmed with excitement. “You want to make some calls?”
“You’re damn right I’m gonna make some calls.” Anthony slapped the envelope against his palm. “Except that wherever Ginger is, I don’t want her to know I’m coming.”
“But if you’re able to track her down, you’ll at least know that she’s all right.”
“Then what? She takes off, telling the media that I tracked her down and stalked her? Right now I’d bet my life that she’s all right. But that doesn’t make a bit of difference, not if she still pretends she’s scared of me. No, I need to find her. Talk to her. That’s the whole reason I got you involved, remember? This will all be pointless if I don’t get to talk to her.”
Lecia couldn’t see how it would be pointless if he figured out his wife was alive and well, off somewhere of her own free will. That would have to make a difference to the police. But she bit her tongue.
“There is something,” he said.
“What?”
“It’ll be in my records somewhere.” He started toward the large filing cabinet. “When we were planning the wedding, I insisted that Ginger send an invitation to her family. She gave me an address to give to the wedding planner, which is why New Orleans rings a bell. The wedding planner gave me back all that info, and I put it in my files.”
Lecia folded her arms over her chest as Anthony opened the top drawer and began flipping through the hanging folders. “An address will be perfect.”
Anthony withdrew one of the hanging files and started sifting through its contents. “Now you’ll really think I’m a crack head, since I didn’t remember this before.”
“I was kidding about the crack head bit.”
“Here we go,” Anthony said, sounding proud. “This is the address.”
Lecia couldn’t hold back a wide-mouthed grin. “After all our searching, you actually have an address.”
“And all the people she’s called in the last month.”
“Do you think she would have gone to her sister’s place? You said they weren’t close.”
“If her story wasn’t entirely fiction, I’m thinking that would be the best place for her to go. Because I’d never expect it.”
Anthony was thinking about how he would get to New Orleans when his cell phone rang. He dug it out of his back pocket and said, “T here.”
“Anthony, Keith.”
“Hey, Keith. What’s up?”
“I’ve heard from the detective again. Says you haven’t called him to arrange a time to turn yourself in.”
“Turn myself in?”
“Wrong choice of words, sorry,” Keith quickly said. “I mean turn yourself in for questioning.”
Was Keith telling the truth? Anthony wondered. His own lawyer shouldn’t try to railroad him. But then, his own wife shouldn’t try to set him up.
And even if Keith was advising him to the best of his abilities, this detective could easily be lying, assuring Keith that they only wanted to question him, when in reality they could be planning to slap cuffs on him.
“I’ve been busy,” Anthony said.
“The guy’s pretty anxious to speak to you. And, quite frankly, I think the sooner you go in and rule yourself out as a suspect, the better.”
Anthony wondered if he should tell his lawyer what he’d learned about Ginger. He didn’t want to make a decision without weighing the pros and cons. And he knew, regardless, that the best thing would be to find Ginger and return her to Beverly Hills so the whole world would know he hadn’t done anything to hurt her.
“I will,” Anthony told Keith.
“When?”
“Soon. But look, I’m in the middle of something. I’m gonna have to call you back.”
“That’s what you said earlier.” Keith sounded wary.
“I know. Stay by the phone.” Then Anthony ended the call and turned off his cell phone.
“What?” Lecia asked.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m getting a bad feeling.” And if there was one thing his mama had always instilled in him, it was to trust his gut.
Too bad he hadn’t had any premonition that something was wrong before he married Ginger.
Anthony strode down the winding staircase and toward the front door with Lecia close at his heels. He had his hand on the doorknob when she said, “Wait. My purse.”
Anthony couldn’t explain it, but he felt a sick, nervous energy. He had felt it often during the two years he’d played for the Buffalo Bills, standing on the sidelines, knowing his team was going to lose, and wishing the coach would put him on the field to prove what he could do.
As he watched Lecia hustle up the stairs, he wondered if there was anything he was forgetting. He had his keys in his back pocket. His wallet. He could use some more cash, though.
Before Lecia returned, he took the steps two at a time and all but ran into his office. He pulled aside the painting of Martin Luther King, Jr., behind which was a safe. He was in the middle of punching in the combination when he heard Lecia’s shoes clicking against the marble as she descended the stairs.
“I’m in the office,” he called out to her. “I won’t be long.”
“Where’s your bathroom?”
“The door right at the top of the stairs.”
Lecia didn’t say anything else, and Anthony went back to the business at hand. He popped open the safe and stared at the piles of money. Thank God Ginger didn’t have access to this cash. And not because he hadn’t trusted his wife, but because this was emergency money that even he didn’t want to touch unless necessary. Now, he was dipping into the secret stash because of the nagging feeling in his gut.
The one that told him he wouldn’t have time to go to the bank.
Minutes later, as they were driving, Anthony slapped his palm against the steering wheel and cursed.
“What’s the matter?” Lecia asked him.
He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Do you think that cop was slowing down?”
“What cop?”
“The one who just drove past us.”
“I didn’t even see him.” Lecia turned in her seat, looking behind her. “He’s not there now.”
“Because he disappeared around a curve,” Anthony said. “Something’s not right,” he mumbled, as though speaking to himself.
“You think he was heading out here to arrest you?” Lecia asked, her tone full of doubt.
“Who knows?”
Anthony thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The expression on his face said he was thinking hard about what to do.
“Honestly, Tony, I don’t think it will be as bad as you expect if you turn yourself in.”
“What’s with all this turn myself in talk?”
“Sorry. I only said that because you said that before, but that’s not what I meant to say. Okay, I’m rambling.”
“You don’t think I hurt Ginger, do you?”
“No,” Lecia responded, impassioned. “You know I don’t.”
“What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
“Other than work from home?”
He faced her. “You don’t have to meet anyone, do you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah.”
“Good why?”
“Because.”
“I think I’d rather be talking to a brick wall.”
“I’d rather not be talking. I’m trying to think.”
Lecia waited a whole two seconds before asking, “Do you want me to make some calls?”
“No.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, surprised to hear the question from her lips. She should have asked him if he was taking her back to her office. He had what he needed—Ginger’s cell phone record and an address where he could possibly find her. He didn’t need her anymore.
“I said I’m trying to think.”
Lecia stared out the window. It had been a stressful enough day, and she thought she should tell him to let her out so she could catch a cab and go on her merry way. It was a great idea—yet she couldn’t voice the words.
After several minutes Anthony said, “Naw, I can’t do that.”
Lecia stared at him, waiting for him to realize that he hadn’t completed his thought. When he didn’t, she asked, “Can’t do what?”
“Head to my hotel.”
“I thought you were staying with Kahari.”
“Naw. He’s got enough room, but I didn’t want to impose. Besides, when I left my house, I hadn’t figured I’d be gone more than a night or two.”
“Why can’t you head to your hotel?” Lecia asked, getting back to his comment.
“The cops have got to know that’s where I’m staying.”
So he still didn’t want to talk to them. “You can’t avoid them forever.”
“Wanna bet?”
Anthony hit the brakes and made an abrupt U-turn. Lecia gripped the door handle as her heart leapt to her throat.
“What are you doing?”
“I have to find Ginger. I sure as hell won’t be able to find her if I stay here and deal with police bullshit.”
“Tony…” Lecia said warily.
He picked up speed as he headed toward 101.
“Tony, please tell me where you’re going.”
“New Orleans,” he answered simply.
“Now?” Lecia cried.
“I have no other choice. It’s time to pay a visit to Ginger’s sister, and hope to hell that I find Ginger there.”
“Oh, no no no no.” Lecia shook her head vehemently. “You can pull off at the next exit and drop me off, thank you very much.”
Anthony glanced her way, held her gaze. “Come on, Doc. You’re not gonna leave me to do this on my own?”
“I never wanted to be involved in the first place, remember?”
“You think I wanted any of this?” he asked. “Hell, no. But this is the way things are, and I have to deal with it.”
“That’s right.
You
have to deal with it. I don’t.”
Anthony was silent a moment, then he said, “If I head to New Orleans on my own, the cops will think I took off. As long as you’re with me, you can verify that I was truly trying to find my wife.”
“I’ll do that now. If we head to the police station together—”
“No way.”
“Anthony, you’re only going to make things worse.”
“You know the cops will slap a pair of cuffs on me if I show up there. Especially if they’re on the way to the house, which I have a feeling they are.”
“You see
one
patrol car—”
“That’s another one,” Anthony said as another police car passed them on the opposite side of the road. This time there was no doubt that the cop inside craned his neck to see who was in Anthony’s vehicle. “You saw that, right?” Anthony asked. “You saw that cop checking me out.”
“Not that anyone can see inside your vehicle. The tint’s so dark.”
Lecia groaned loudly when she saw they were heading toward the Hollywood Freeway. After that it would be Interstate 10, at which point she was certain he wouldn’t turn back.
“It’s not too late to turn around,” she told him.
Anthony glanced her way and said, “I can’t risk having my ass thrown in jail before I find Ginger.”
“You’d rather be a fleeing felon?”
Lecia’s words only solidified his position. “See—you’re referring to me as a felon.”
“I’m only trying to say—”
“If you’re calling me a felon, what do you think the police will say?” He paused, let his words sink in. “I have to do this. My life will only be normal again once I find Ginger.”
“That’s what you’re hoping, but what if you’re wrong?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Lecia grunted her frustration.
“Wouldn’t you do the same thing, in my shoes?” he asked her.
“Maybe. But I wouldn’t drag anyone else into my mess.”
“You’re forgetting this mess started when you told my wife to leave me.”
“It did not!”
“Okay, maybe not. But if you hadn’t told her I was a pervert, I’m sure we’d have worked everything out by now.”
“Sure, blame me.”
“This isn’t about blame. This is about…solving a mystery.”
“Won’t you please drop me along the highway? I can call for someone to pick me up.”
Lecia’s voice was soft, shaky even, and Anthony felt like a sack of shit. He was tempted to pull over right there and do what she asked. He wanted her with him, but he wanted her to
want
to be with him.
“It’s just that…” His voice trailed off. “I’ll still need you when I find Ginger. And, um, I’ll need you to give me advice along the way.” Why didn’t he want to let her out of his car? “I just…need you.” He spoke honestly, not exactly sure what had gotten into him. He certainly didn’t need a kidnapping charge on top of everything else. “Will you please just stick it out with me?”
Lecia shook her head slowly as she stared at him with a frown. “Anthony Beals, this has got to be the lamest, most spontaneous, ill-thought-out plan…”
A grin broke out on his face. “So, we’re on?”
“…ridiculous waste of time…”
He extended a fist for her to knock with her own.
“Not to mention that I have a million and one things to do.”
“I love it when you talk dirty.”
Lecia smacked his hand. “You are—”
“Crazy. I know.” He shrugged. “That’s why I need a therapist with me on this trip. Can you imagine me on my own?”
Lecia glared at him, but there was a hint of a smirk beneath her scowl. Warmth tingled across Anthony’s chest.
“We have to go to New Orleans and head straight back. Okay? Because I wasn’t kidding when I said I have a million things to do.”
“No problem. I’m gonna head to this address, see if Ginger’s there, and if she’s not, I’ll turn right around.”
Lecia mumbled something Anthony couldn’t quite understand.
“What was that?” he asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
He glanced to the left so she wouldn’t see that his lips were fighting a smile. Then he reached for the stereo, turned it on, and found Hot 92 Jamz.
“That okay?” he asked her.
“As long as I still have my ear drums when this road trip is over.”
The good doctor and that tongue. He wondered how she put it to use when she wasn’t arguing with a guy.
Say, when she was kissing one.
Where the hell did that thought come from?
Anthony asked himself. Especially at a time like this, when he was on the road to find his wife. He shouldn’t be thinking any wayward thoughts about Dr. Love.
But he was a guy. Guys thought these kinds of things even when they didn’t want to. It was ingrained in their genes from the time they hit puberty. Before that, really. Thinking them didn’t make him like his father.
“What’s with that look?” Lecia demanded, her tone accusatory.
Whoa, did this woman have radar or what?
“What look?”
“That one. The one that says you’re getting some perverse pleasure out of this.”
Anthony held up a hand. “Come on, Doc. We’re barely into our trip. Can you at least wait a few minutes before you bust my balls?”
She sneered at him, then looked away.
“If you want me to change the station—”
“Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to hear your voice for at least six hours.”
“Whatever you say, Doc.”
“I just told you not to talk.”
Anthony held up a hand in surrender, letting her know he’d gotten the point. Then he suppressed a smile as he headed toward Interstate 10, the road he would take all the way to the Big Easy.