“And that helped?”
“It seemed to. He’d periodically ask me questions about what had happened, what his dad told me, what he’d done about the theft of the script. Brian even bought the DVD of the movie. He watched it over and over again.”
So many things were clearer now. “Did he ever tell you that he wanted to avenge his father, clear his name by proving he’d originated the idea for the movie?”
“No. I mean, he was upset at the idea that someone might have stolen his father’s script and that it had pushed his father…over the edge. But he never spoke of wanting to do anything about it. I mean, what could he do? The whole issue is long in the past now.”
I didn’t want to tell her that Brian had indeed found a way to do something about it. So I wrapped it up, thanked her for her time, and gave her my number. She assured me that if she heard from Brian, she’d be in touch immediately. “He’s a lovely, gentle soul. Please believe me, he would never hurt anyone.” My silence provoked her to add, “I know, someone in the family always says that, and then you find the body.” The remark was so unwittingly accurate, it left me speechless. Janice exhaled and said, “Don’t worry, Ms. Knight. If this girl is with Brian, I’m sure she’s just fine and she’ll turn up soon.”
The bitter irony made my throat tighten. I barely managed to choke out a “thank you” before ending the call. When I got out of the car, the smell of greasy food filled my nostrils. It turned my stomach. I opened the door to the restaurant, intending to tell Bailey I’d wait outside, but she was already standing at the register.
“Man, you eat fast. Don’t you believe in chewing?”
A waitress behind the counter brought over a bag that gave off the smell of bacon and something sweet. Bailey handed it to me. “I ordered yours to go.”
Bailey finished paying. “Our pal Brian is on the move. He just bought a ticket to Paris using Hayley’s iPad.”
Bailey hustled me into the car and pulled out onto Sepulveda Boulevard. For some reason my appetite returned with a vengeance. I was aiming a forkful of the hash browns at my mouth, but we hit a dip in the road, and it missed and bounced off my chin instead. Flicking a piece of potato out of my bra, I asked, “Where exactly are we rushing to?”
“The station. Got to call my contact with the cell site info.”
Bailey’s contact might be able to tell us what cell sites the iPad accessed when Brian bought the plane tickets. And, hopefully, that would lead us to Brian. “Think he’s dumb enough not to know we can trace the signal?”
