I mean, yes, we have very safe and vanilla code questions that are absolutely boring and don’t look suspicious. I can outright text Carter to ask if he’s heard from Susa yet, or ask him to ask Susa to call or text me.
She’s my fucking lieutenant governor. Kind of in her job description, to have work contact with me.
Although the sticking point comes from the fact that I know damn well she’s out of town. But it’s a…
I think.
Twelve-hour difference. And it’s been a while. She’s always good about texting Carter when she lands in a new city and has a connection. We specifically invested in a phone for her, personally, that would get connection all over the world. Even so, every airport now has Wi-Fi, and she can use Signal or another app to call or text Carter.
Breathe.
I try to focus on the luncheon and not look around to locate Carter. There aren’t any press questions allowed inside today, but there are a couple of cameramen filming, and there are cellphones all over the place. I can’t afford for anyone to catch me looking like I’m not paying attention.
I know Carter is close by, watching and listening, observing. He never leaves me, in case something happens and I need him. If I can’t see him and need him, I fake cough, and he steps into my line of vision so I can let him know what I need. We have a set of pre-established cues. Sometimes I can just text him, but I have to be careful with that because of public access laws about my “official communications.”
I finally survive the actual luncheon and hold back so Carter can catch up with me before heading out to the lobby for the pool spray.
I’m given an arched eyebrow. Our silent language, Sir asking if I’m okay.
I nod and we let the organizers direct me into position. Carter moves off to the side and is thumbing through his own phone when the organizer steps up to the mic to introduce me, the scientist who made the presentation, and a few other key dignitaries.
I’m not really paying much attention when I hear a bunch of phone alert tones starting to go off. Including Carter’s.
And mine, as my official phone, which is tucked in the pocket of my blazer, starts going off.
Before I can get mine out of my pocket, two reporters, who are staring at their phones, both shout out questions at the same time.
“Do you have any comments about Mrs. Evans’ plane disappearing?”
“Governor Taylor, will Florida be sending any assistance in the search for Mrs. Evans’ plane?”
I honestly have no clue what they’re talking about, and at the same time a cold, hard ball of fear congeals in my gut.
A hand clamps down on my left arm and jerks me back. I don’t fight it, because I instinctively realize it’s Carter. I turn, and I can’t read the look on his face.
“We have to go, Owen,” he softly says. “Now.”
Chapter Eighteen
Carter
Over the past years, I’ve allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security. I know my two pets love me and each other as much as I love them.
Therefore, it is impossible for me to imagine any circumstance where I cannot take care of them and protect them. Even after that day at the school, where I took out the active shooter. In my mind, it was more proof that yes, Iabsolutelycan protect my pets. Especially after all our years of careful planning.
Until now.
My work phone had started vibrating a couple of minutes earlier, and I’d ignored it. If I answered it every time someone called me, I’d never get anything done. I have it set right now todo not disturbmode. Only a few callers will make it through, anyway, in case of emergencies. But this time I look, and it’s Dray.
That’s when a really bad feeling sets in.
I answer it.
He sounds…
“Carter, I…” He sobs. “Susa’s plane is missing.”
Much like that day in the school, when I heard and recognized the first gunshots, time slows and stretches, every throb of my pulse an echoing crash in my ears.
