The Vanishing by Gary Brown (top 10 motivational books TXT) 📕

thing we’ll do when we’re safe is contact the police. Eventually, the cops will hand him over to the CIA. When that happens, they’ll throw him into a hole so deep and for so long that daylight will become a foreign concept to him. I don’t think he’s going to let that happen easily, do you?”

“Maybe you’re right, Claire,” Martin replied. “Maybe the odds are stacked against us. But I’d rather face those odds than walk away. I’ve got questions too. Krebeck may be my only link to finding Melanie, and I’ll follow that bastard straight into Hell to find out if he’s the piece of the puzzle I’ve been searching for. So, I guess as much as I’m helping you, I’m also helping myself.”

Martin’s cell phone rang. “Yes?” he answered sternly.

Mark hesitated before speaking. “You okay, Martin?”

“Yeah.” The reply was curt, to the point.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Mark said. “Is everything all right with you and Claire?”

“Sorry, Mark,” Martin apologized. “You caught me at a bad time. Everything’s fine.”

Mark persisted. “If you two have any differences, settle them now. If we’re going to pull this off, I need to know you’ve both got your head in the game.”

“We’re good,” Martin replied. “What’s on your mind?”

Martin’s tone told Mark he was lying, but the point had been made. “Call me when you get to Kettawash. By the time we reach Sonoma State, we’ll have had a twenty-minute head start on you. I want to meet up and compare notes after we’ve worked the campus.”

“No problem. I’ll call you soon.”

“Good. And Martin?”

“What?”

“I understand the pressure you’re both under right now. Believe me, I do. But you and Claire have got to keep it under control and not let it get the better of you. If we end up chasing ghosts, then we’ll follow up on the next lead, and the lead after that. All right?”

“Thanks, Mark. I needed to hear that.”

“Tell Claire to keep her chin up. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Martin exited the interstate at Kettawash and slowed to negotiate a gauntlet of flashing construction lights. Repair crews tended to steaming ribbons of freshly pressed asphalt. Maggy sat up, sniffed the air, then snorted her disapproval of the foul smell.

“Keep your eyes open for a gas station,” Martin said. “I could use a cold drink and Maggy should probably stretch her legs, if you know what I mean.”

Claire looked over her shoulder. “Need to tinkle, girl?”

Maggy wagged her tail and panted eagerly.

Martin smiled at Maggy in the rearview mirror. “Remember to wash your hands when you’re done, fur face,” he said.

“One mile ahead,” Claire said.

“Say again?”

“The sign we just passed says there’s a gas station one mile up the road.”

“We passed a sign?”

“You were looking at Maggy. I guess you didn’t see it.”

“You’re sure?”

Claire pointed to the Speedway sign as they rounded the turn. “There.”

Martin pulled into the gas station and parked between two tractor trailers. Maggy jumped into the front seat after Claire opened her door, then followed her into the parking lot.

Martin attached the lead to Maggy’s collar. “I’ll take her for a quick bathroom break,” he said.

“Okay,” Claire replied. She reached inside the SUV and picked up her dossier.

Martin looked at her quizzically.

“What?” Claire said. “Just a little light bathroom reading.”

Martin smiled, rolled his eyes. “I’ll meet you back here when you’re ready.”

After Maggy had found her favorite spots, Martin returned to the truck. A tall, bearded man dressed in baggy overalls and a worn t-shirt stood at the driver’s door, his hands cupped against the window, peering inside. Maggy snarled. Suddenly aware of the dog, the old man stepped back.

“Something I can do for you?” Martin asked the stranger. Uncomfortable with the man’s presence, Maggy strained on her lead and bared her teeth. Martin considered commanding her to settle down, but dismissed the idea for the moment.

“Your dog,” the man asked. “Is it dangerous?”

“That depends.” Martin replied. “If you’re asking if she’s trained to attack, the answer is yes.”

The stranger stared at Maggy. “I don’t like dogs, ‘cept them that like me,” he said. “Got bitten bad by one once. Never much cared for ‘em since.”

The old man placing his hands in his pockets and shuffle-stepped in front of an eighteen-wheeler. “Sorry, mister,” he said. “I was just looking at your car. I always wanted one of these, but I suppose ‘ol Nellie Blue here is the closest I’m ever gonna get to it.” He patted the hood of his truck.

“This is your rig?” Martin asked.

“Yep,” the man said proudly. “Bought and paid for twelve years now. Best maintained truck on the road. Do all the work myself. By my way of figuring, if I take care of ‘ol Nelly, she’ll take care of me.”

“Sounds like smart thinking.” Maggy continued to growl. Martin pulled gently on her collar. “Maggy,” he commanded. “Control.” The retriever immediately lay down on all fours.

“Say, she’s smart,” the old man said. “She a police dog?”

“Used to be,” Martin said. “Now she’s just a big baby. But she remembers her training.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make her mad.”

“I know you didn’t,” Martin said. “You’re welcome to take a look inside if you like.” Martin released the door locks with the remote control.

The old man walked to the Navigator. “You sure? I don’t want to be a bother or nothing.”

“It’s no problem at all.”

The man wiped his hand on his shirt and held it out. “Name’s Bentley. Earl Bentley.”

Martin shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bentley.”

Claire walked across the parking lot to the two men. Assured the situation was under control and the danger passed, Maggy sat up and wagged her tail.

“Claire, this is Mr. Bentley,” Martin said. He pointed to the tractor-trailer. “He owns Nellie Blue here.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Earl said. He extended his hand to Claire and accidentally knocked the file folder out of her arms. The contents of the dossier fell to the ground. A gentle breeze lifted the sheets into the air, scattered them around