Out of Focus by Nancy Naigle

you’re in town. How many bags do you have?”
    “Four,” Kasey said, then felt the need to explain. “Four in all. One for clothes, and three full of equipment and supplies.”
    He grabbed a cart and headed to the baggage carousel just as the belt started chugging and an array of bags eased past. Cody’s road manager had sent special stickers for her luggage which made the four cases easy to spot.
    The driver grunted while lifting her equipment onto the cart. Kasey cringed.
    “Ready, ma’am?” he asked, as he lifted the final one into place.
    “Thank you,” Kasey said, then followed him to the limousine, trying to figure out how to ask for a favor.
    He opened and held the door of the stretch limo. She slid onto the fine leather of the back seat. The car shifted from the weight of her bags when he loaded them into the trunk. He rounded the limo and got in.
    “I know you’re supposed to take me to the hotel, but would you mind stopping at this address?” Kasey handed the driver a piece of paper noting the address. “I don’t know if it’s on the way.” She watched for a response.
    “Not a problem, miss.” He punched the address into the GPS, then eased into traffic.
    A few minutes later, he parallel-parked the car in front of Victory Courier Service .
    “Thanks. I’ll be just a few minutes.” Kasey opened the car door, but the driver was around to her side before she stepped out. She felt herself flush.
    He held the door. “Take your time.”
    She got out and stood there for a moment. What do I think I’m going to find out that the cops didn’t? The thought froze in her brain. While on this tour, she’d do everything she could possibly do to find Jake. If she rattled a few cages along the way, so be it.
    Neon signs indicated that the shop was open for business. Filled with determination, Kasey walked to the door. Three giant bells on a single piece of twine jingled as she entered the small shop, then stepped to the counter.
    A balding white-haired man looked up from his newspaper and peered at her over the top of his glasses. His plaid western shirt had seen better days, but its rosy orange color matched his cheeks.
    “How can I help you today?” he asked with a warm smile.
    “Are you the owner?”
    His long wiry brows seemed to dance above his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. Is there a problem?”
    “Oh, no, nothing like that. You spoke to the police earlier this week about a package.”
    His smile faded. “Yes. The one the lady sent to the courier in Virginia?”
    “That’s the one.” Thank God, he remembers. “Do you remember what she looked like?”
    He studied her. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
    Her heart raced, and she prayed she wouldn’t screw up anything the police had already done. Was he going to answer?
    His face softened. “I remember her because, you see, she was wearin’ one of them fringy coats. Kind of looked like a hippy from back in the sixties. She’d have been a looker back then, but you’re too young to know what I mean by that. She was tallish. Long, straight brown hair. Said she was just passing through.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Positive. Why do you ask?”
    “I’m Kasey Phillips. The package was sent to me.”
    He wagged a crooked finger toward her. “No, young lady. You are not the lady that sent that package.”
    She nodded. “Oh, I know. Do you think if I sent an artist over, you could describe her well enough for them to sketch a picture?”
    He tapped his finger to his temple. “Mind like a steel trap. I can do that.”
    “Excellent,” she said, her voice jumping as high as her hopes.
    “You seem pretty excited about that. Mind me askin’ what this is all about? Police wouldn’t share much.”
    “No, sir. I hope you can help me.” She told him the story of the accident and Jake’s disappearance.
    He reached across the counter and patted her arm. “I’m so sorry.”
    “Me, too. I pray for any lead that might help me. Mr.... Where are my manners? I’m