Free Gone by Karen Fenech

later, his eyes widened slightly and his gaze darted back to Jake.
“That sumbitch,” Dawson said loudly. “Yellow pole cat sneaking off with another man’s wife.”
Jake narrowed his eyes at Dawson’s sudden outburst and the vehemence behind it. He turned to look at what had captured Dawson’s attention. They were in line with the double glass doors that led to the parking lot. Clare was now in plain view. She’d left the car and stood leaning back against the yellow driver’s door.
“Don’t expect he’d have the guts to show his face back in Farley,” Dawson went on. “Haven’t seen him since the day him and Dean’s wife took off together.”
“That so,” Jake said.
“Damn right, that’s so.” Dawson scowled, drawing his brows together.
“I could still use that name, Cal.”
Dawson rubbed the back of his neck. He met Jake’s gaze then averted it. “Etherley Transport delivers some of my stock.” Dawson’s voice sounded strained. “So do Robert’s and McKinnon’s. Not sure which of the three bring in my fruits and vegetables. We get different drivers all the time. I can’t keep track of all their names.”
Perspiration was now trickling down the side of Dawson’s face. He turned and led the way to the back of the store and into his office. The space was small, hardly larger than a closet, but neat. An inbox and a computer sat on the desk. A filing cabinet took up one corner. A copy machine occupied another.
Dawson went to the computer and pressed a few keys. Seconds later, he snagged a sheet of paper from the tray of the copier and held it out to Jake.
Contact information for the transport companies Dawson named were listed on the sheet.
Jake accepted the paper. “Thanks for your help, Cal.”
* * * * *
Clare was still standing by the car when Jake reached it. She pushed off the door.
“What did you find out?” she asked.
“Etherley Transport. McKinnon Transport. Robert Transport. They all deliver stock to Dawson Foods. Dawson claimed he doesn’t remember the names of the drivers.” Jake handed the printout to Clare.
Clare read it. “Okay.” She pushed hair back from her face. Excitement surged through her. “Looks like I’ll be making some phone calls.” She turned away from Jake then turned back to face him. “Claimed? You don’t believe him?”
“No. I think Dawson knew exactly who I was asking about and for some reason he didn’t want to tell me the man’s name.”
Clare frowned, mulling that over. Why wouldn’t Dawson want to name the driver? He had to know once they had the names of the transport companies, the driver would be easy to trace. The best that Dawson would have achieved was a short delay.
She didn’t know Dawson well enough to speculate, and in truth, his reason meant nothing to her. All she was interested in was finding Beth.
Clare blew out a breath. “Thank you—ah.” She held up the paper. “For this.” And because she didn’t like being in his debt, she added, “If I can return the favor, let me know.”
Jake leveled his gaze on her. “Is it that hard to accept help from me, Clare?” Before she could respond, he held up a hand. “Never mind. Professional courtesy. No thanks necessary.”
His cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen and the tension in his expression eased into a grin.
“Morning, honey,” he said to his caller. “I hope you’re setting everything up for our tea party. I can’t wa—” The smile left Jake’s face. “Okay. I’m on my way. I’ll be home in five minutes. Count with me, sweetie. One. Two . . .”
Jake held the phone to his ear and strode to the passenger side door.
Clare joined him in the car.
He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “I need to get home. Turn right at the end of this street then left at the next one.”
She started the car and at Jake’s urgent tone, pressed the gas pedal. In the seat beside her, he continued to count off the time. She overheard a very young girl, her voice choked with