Page 42 of The Missing Couple

“So that’s the PI?” Shelly whispered, stealing a glance toward the kitchen.

Charly nodded. “That’s him.”

“Wow.” She waggled her eyebrows. “All I can say is he’s hot.”

Charly waved her off. “I’ll have my cell with me if you need to reach me.”

Billie appeared at the door. “You ready?”

She was. Absolutely. Charly grabbed her shoulder bag and draped it across her. She rarely carried her bag unless she was headed into town for supplies, but she had no idea what this day would call for.

“I am,” she announced.

When they were in his SUV she gave him the directions to the last known address she had for Perry. It was a small, wooded lot next to an RV park off the beaten path.

Hillard Residence

Cha-La-Kee Road, 9:00 a.m.

PERRY HILLARD’S SMALL travel trailer sat in the woods a good distance from the road. A little farther down that same road was the RV campground perched on the edge of the river. In addition to numerous other amenities, the location was also recognized for its view of the well-known home with the built-in lighthouse.

But Perry’s little tin box on wheels that served as his home was only known for being the kind of place you didn’t go after dark. All around the property was the junk he “collected.” Charly had heard the rumors that his so-called collecting was merely a cover for selling drugs. She couldn’t say if there was any truth to the rumor. The one time she’d hired Perry to haul away some old appliances was when she’d updated those in her cabin. Alex had suggested she not hire him again. He’d been suspicious of the guy and Alex generally liked everyone. She had apparently exiled Perry to the far regions of her memory along with so many other Alex-related moments far too painful to remember.

Perry’s rusty blue pickup—the same one he drove when he picked up her appliances—sat next to the little trailer that was a similar color of faded blue.

When Billie parked and shut off the engine, he turned to her. “Let me approach the door first. If he’s here and I don’t see any issues, you can join me.”

“That’s his truck so he’s probably home,” she said first, but then she argued, “But he doesn’t know you. You should let me go in first. I can call out his name. Tell him who I am. He’ll recognize me.”

“Not a good idea,” Billie countered. “I should go first.”

As if to defy both their conclusions, two large and admittedly vicious-looking dogs trotted from behind the little dingy blue trailer and bounded toward the SUV.

“You were saying,” Charly teased.

As fearless as she was, she did not mess with unfamiliar dogs. Particularly those who looked like guard dogs. Aggressive guard dogs owned by someone of questionable standing. And it wasn’t that she didn’t like dogs. She loved dogs. She and Alex had adored Watson—their big old black Lab. Alex had given the puppy to her the same night he proposed. Watson had been with them their entire marriage until he died in his sleep three days after Alex. Watson had been old, almost thirteen, and he’d been declining for a while. But he’d hung in there until Alex was gone and then it was like he allowed himself to let go.

Another devastating moment for Charly. She’d loved that damned dog. And like her inability to feel anything in the way of interest in another intimate relationship, she hadn’t been able to bear the idea of another dog. There was no way to replace that sweet, loyal animal.

“I’m good with dogs,” Billie offered with a glance in her direction.

She laughed. “Famous last words.” She reached in front of him and pressed the horn. The dogs started to howl and circle the SUV.

Billie looked from her to the trailer and back. “I guess we’ll know in a minute if he’s home.”

“We will.” She pressed the horn again; this time she held it down for a second or two longer.

The front door opened, and a shirtless, low-slung-jean-clad Perry Hillard stumbled out, almost face-planting in the overgrown grass. Even from thirty feet away there was no missing the scowl on his face.

He patted his right thigh and whistled. The two animals went to him immediately.

She and Billie exchanged a glance.

He opened his door and Charly did the same. From the corner of her eye she saw the worried look he cast her way. The idea that he felt compelled to protect her was sweet but not really necessary. She could take care of herself—except maybe when she ended up in a ditch.

“Perry!” she shouted as she moved toward the front of the SUV. “We didn’t wake you, did we?” She supposed it was early for some folks.

The dogs whined but stayed at his side, their bodies quivering with tension. They wanted to protect their master and his home.