Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            “I want a receipt,” Merle said, his chin coming up. “And if there’s one scratch on that car when I get it back . . .”

            “Merle,” Joni hissed, then sighed. “Please excuse my husband. He’s just disappointed.”

            “I don’t understand,” Croft said. “Agent Hunter?”

            “I don’t understand, either,” Tom admitted. “What is this about a car?”

            Merle visibly brightened. “You’re not here for the car?”

            “What car?” Tom asked slowly.

            Merle and Joni exchanged a long glance. “Well,” Joni said again. “We assumed you were here to take custody of the Camaro. You know, Waylon’s Camaro. We just got it back from the nice policemen in San Francisco. Merle hasn’t even driven it yet.”

            Tom frowned, then remembered the set of GM keys they’d found in Ephraim Burton’s pocket and the very hot car he’d extorted from Waylon Belmont. They must have been one and the same. “I see. Where was the car found?”

            “At the airport,” Merle said. “It had been parked there for several weeks before one of the security guards ran a check on the VIN and saw that my father had reported it stolen.”

            Makes sense. Tom kicked himself for not thinking to check the San Francisco airport himself. Using his tablet, he pretended to be taking notes as he typed out a message to Croft.

            Ephraim Burton had a set of GM keys in his pocket when he died. He left out of SFO when he flew to New Orleans to stalk Mercy last month. This has to be the car he took from Waylon.

            He angled the tablet so that Croft could see, and her small nod indicated that she’d read and understood. “When was the car reported stolen, sir?” she asked.

            “Almost thirty years ago.” Merle exhaled, his expression becoming pained. “My father had loaned it to DJ’s mother because she wanted a night on the town with her friends. She had DJ with her. Said she was taking him to a babysitter.”

            “It was the last time we saw them,” Joni added soberly. “We figured whoever had taken them had stolen the car, too. That maybe they were carjacked. It was a valuable car even then.”

            “It’s a ’69 Camaro,” Merle explained. “Mint condition.”

            “A very hot car,” Tom said quietly. “Did you wonder where it had been?”

            “Of course,” Merle said. “But whoever stole it took really good care of it. I’m grateful for that, at least.” He frowned, then sucked in a breath. “Wait. You asked about DJ the last time you were here. Are you saying that he had it?”

            “No,” Tom said easily. “I’m not saying that at all.”

            “Have you found DJ?” Joni asked. “Is that why you’re here?”

            “No, ma’am,” Croft replied. “We haven’t found him. But he is why we’re here. We were wondering if you knew anywhere he might go.”

            Both Joni and Merle shook their heads. “No,” Merle said warily. “We told you—we haven’t seen him since he was four years old. Why are you asking us this again?”

            The couple joined hands, appearing anxious now.

            Croft met their eyes squarely. “Would he stay at your other house?”

            The couple glanced at each other in confusion. “You mean our house on Elvis Lane?” Joni asked. “Why would he? You’re scaring me, Agent Croft. What’s going on here?”

            “He lived there once,” Croft pressed.

            “When he was four years old!” Merle exclaimed. “The house stood empty for years after he and Charlene disappeared. My father went over there every day, sometimes multiple times a day, hoping that they’d magically come home, but they never did. He refused to rent the place to anyone else. For years.”

            This was the opening Tom had been hoping for. “How many years, sir?”

            Again Joni and Merle shared an anxious glance. “Maybe five years?” Joni said slowly.