Hard Ride to Dry Gulch. Joanna Wayne

birth to him at seventeen. There must be a story there, as well.

      “Tell me where to go,” he said.

      He followed her directions. The restaurant was small, noisy and crowded. Not the best spot for a serious conversation.”

      “Any chance we can get a seat on the patio?” he asked the young blonde hostess.

      “How many in your party?”

      “Two.”

      “I think I can manage that.”

      She smiled and led them to a table in the middle of the patio.

      “How about that table in the back?” he asked.

      “Okay with me, but it doesn’t have an umbrella, so you’re going to be in the sun.”

      But it would give them a lot more privacy. He looked to Faith.

      “The sun is fine with me,” she said.

      Once they were seated, the hostess set two menus in front of them and announced that the waitress would be with them shortly.

      “I didn’t realize the place would be so noisy,” Faith said. “I just need to talk and this was the closest café I could think of.”

      Her apprehension seemed to be growing. He scooted his menu aside. “Let’s hear it. I can’t do anything about solving the problem until I know what it is.”

      She clasped her hands in front of her. “I got a phone call from Cornell just before daybreak this morning.”

      Travis hadn’t seen that coming. Even if he had, he would have expected it to be good news. Hearing the kid was alive made him feel a hell of a lot better, and he didn’t even know him.

      “What did he say?”

      “That he was sorry.”

      “That’s a good start. Sorry for what?”

      “He didn’t say.”

      “Where is he?”

      “I asked, but he didn’t answer that, either.”

      “He must have said something more than ‘I’m sorry’ to have you this upset.”

      “It’s what he didn’t say that has me so afraid, Travis. The call was a cry for help. I have to find out where he was when he made that call. That’s why I came to you.”

      The waitress appeared at their elbow. “Are you ready to order?”

      “Just coffee for now,” Travis said. “Black.”

      “Same for me,” Faith said, “except I’ll need cream and an artificial sweetener.”

      “Something got lost in translation,” Travis said as the waitress walked away. “The dots between ‘I’m sorry’ and the call being a cry for help don’t connect for me. Start at the beginning and tell me exactly what was said.”

      The waitress returned with their coffee. Faith stirred in the cream and sweetener slowly, as if she was trying to get her thoughts together. Finally, she looked up and locked her gaze with his.

      “‘Mom,’” she murmured. “I answered the phone and heard ‘Mom.’” She picked up her napkin and used it to dab a tear from the corner of her right eye. More moisture gathered. “At that point I think I went into momentary shock.”

      In Travis’s mind she wasn’t far from shock now, just having to relive the moment.

      “After ten months of silence, I can see why that jolted you,” Travis said.

      “So much so that I asked if it was really him.”

      “You weren’t sure from the sound of his voice?”

      “Only for a few seconds. My heart was beating so fast I couldn’t think. I thought I might be dreaming. But it was Cornell. I know it was. I’d know his voice anywhere.”

      “And after he said ‘Mom’?”

      “I asked him about his seizure meds. He said he’d gotten a prescription and that he was taking them. Then he just said he was sorry.”

      “For leaving home?”

      “He didn’t leave home.” Frustration laced her voice. “At least not of his own accord. He would never do that. I told Detective Ethridge and the private detective I hired that he had no reason to leave home. I don’t think either of them ever believed me, but a mother knows her son. At least I know Cornell.”

      Travis reached across the table and laid his hands on top of hers. “I believe you, Faith. I’m just trying to see the whole picture here so I can get a handle on the situation. It would help if he’d said what he was sorry for.”

      “He never got the chance to tell me. Someone started yelling curses in the background. Before he could say more, the connection was broken, either by Cornell or by the person who was yelling at him.”

      “Was the voice in the background male or female?”

      “Male. I pushed *69 and tried to redial the number, but it wouldn’t come up. I called the phone company. They were no help, either. But you’re a homicide detective. You must have ways to get that number.”

      “Did he call your cell phone or landline?”

      “The house phone. I can give you my number.”

      “I’ll need that for starters, but I’d like to take a look around Cornell’s room and also check out his computer.”

      “Arsenio checked the computer thoroughly.”

      “Arsenio?”

      “Arsenio Gomez, the P.I. I hired. He said there was nothing there to lead him to Cornell.”

      “I’d like to look for myself.”

      “Of course. Do anything that you think might help us find my son. Please, just do it quickly, before the lead grows cold again.”

      “I’ll do everything I can to help you find Cornell, Faith. But first we need to set a few ground rules.”

      Faith met his gaze head-on, suspicion arching her brows. “What kind of ground rules?”

      “I expect the truth from you, the total truth.”

      “I have no reason to lie.”

      “No, but sometimes it’s difficult for parents to face up to the truth about their child. If there’s any indication that Cornell was on drugs or mixed up with a gang, I need to know that up front. Not to judge him. But it might change the way I go about the investigation.”

      Faith yanked her hands away from his. Her lips grew taut, her eyes fiery. “I know what you read in his missing-person file, Travis. I know what his friends said about him and that he was seen at the Passion Pit, but Cornell was only eighteen. He may have made some bad decisions. But he wasn’t a thug or an addict. He didn’t leave home by choice, and wherever he is, he’s being held against his will. I’m as sure of that as I am that my name is Faith Ashburn or that today is Sunday.”

      Travis wasn’t convinced, but he did understand her desperation. It was a dangerous world out there. No one knew that better than him.

      Which brought up another issue. “There’s one other ground rule,” Travis said.

      “Do you always have so many rules?”

      “All depends on the game I find myself in.”

      “So what’s the rule?”

      “You leave the investigating to me. No more trips to the Passion Pit or any other questionable location.”

      “I’m smart enough to know how to avoid trouble.”

      “I’m questioning your