Little Girl Gone (A Logan Harper Thriller) by Brett Battles

Author:Brett Battles [Battles, Brett]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: mystery, burma, Suspense, myanmar, army, california, thailand, cambria, Thriller, Logan Harper
Published: 2011-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

26

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Christina said, then motioned for Mr. Prem to follow her back to the door they entered through.

As soon as they were gone, Daeng held out his hand. “Don’t expect me to call you Mr. Harper.”

Logan was surprised. He had assumed Daeng was Thai, but the man’s accent was pure American. They shook hands. “You can call me Logan.”

Daeng must have sensed the confusion in Logan’s voice, because he smiled and said, “Hollywood High, class of ’99.”

“You’re not from Thailand?”

“I am. But that’s not what you’re asking, is it? I was born here, but went to live with an aunt in Thai Town in Los Angeles when I was just a kid. I’m Thai on my dad’s side. My mom?” He held Logan’s gaze for a moment. “She was Burmese.”

Logan realized that explained Daeng’s reactions earlier while Christina had been talking about Burma. Hopefully, it would make Daeng more motivated to lend a hand. “So can you help me track down the van?”

Daeng smiled. “And here I thought you were going to give me a challenge.”

As they stepped onto the sidewalk in front of Christina’s place, a car that had been parked down the street drove over and stopped at the curb. The driver jumped out, and opened the back door. He had the same tough look as Daeng, only with much shorter hair.

Daeng let Logan enter first, then he slid in after him. Before the driver had even climbed back behind the wheel, Daeng was unbuttoning his shirt. “She likes us to dress up when we talk business. I refuse to wear a suit, but I figure I can at least wear one of these.”

As Daeng pulled off his shirt, Logan noticed that his upper body was covered in colorful tattoos—a tiger on his shoulder, a serpent wrapped around one arm, and, taking up much of his back, the Buddha.

The driver handed back a T-shirt, and Daeng pulled it on. On the front was a picture of Einstein sticking out his tongue.

“So where are we going?” Logan asked as they sped down the street.

“I don’t really have as much use for Mr. Prem as Christina does, but sometimes he’s helpful. He did get us the van’s license number after all. Thought maybe we’d pay the owner a visit.”

“You know where he lives?”

“I will soon enough.”

Logan allowed himself to relax a little. He wasn’t at a dead end. This was exactly the kind of help he needed.

The streets were now much easier to get around than when Logan had taken his little suicide ride through the city on the back of the motorcycle. In fact, Daeng’s driver seldom had to slow at all, except at lights. Logan was even getting used to the feel of riding on the opposite side of the road from the one back home. Thailand, like several Asian nations, drove British style.

They were on the road for a little more than five minutes when Daeng received a call. When he finished, he said, “The van’s owner lives way out on Sukhumvit.

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