“I don’t know.” No doubt sensing my mood, the hospital woman flinches and steps back.
“Do you have security cameras?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Slate joins us, hears the last bit of conversation, and motions me out the door. “We have the drone. Jack’s all over it.”
“Fuck.” I can’t believe she up and disappeared.
My boss is always the calm in a storm. “She’s a brilliant analyst. I’m guessing she’ll hole up overnight and contact us as soon as she can.”
“Dammit. Why couldn’t she just settle down and wait for one damn minute?”
“The surrogate was brought in earlier. I’m betting she was worried the child would be taken out of the country and we would never find it.” Of course, he’s right. It sounds just like her.
“So, Gillian had her baby?”
“No. False labor. Lucky is with her, now. She said your wife was there no more than fifteen minutes ago.”
I can’t believe we fucking missed her.Running outside, I circle the building. “Sam? You out here?”
If I could, I’d drive up and down the streets, calling out my window but that will get me arrested. I’m not even supposed to be here.
When my boss finds me, I’ve followed her footsteps to a house with neighbors gathered in the front yard.
As a cop car pulls in front, Slate grabs my arm. “Let’s go.”
“Where the hell is she?” Every fiber of my being wants to stay and find out what the police know.
“Sebs. Keep it together. She’s counting on us to find her.”
“Copy that.” I bury every damn feeling and let the cold of my military background seep into my veins. The fear I have for her and my child has to be put aside or I could lose them forever.
Jack sounds in our earbuds. “Heads up. I got something you’ll want to see.”
My boss downloads the video where a woman crawls out a downstairs hospital window. “It’s her. Is there more?”
“I’m afraid not. You know her best. What would Sam do next?”
Back down the road, the man holding a baseball bat waves his arms in the air and points toward the road. “Steal a car. Then, she’d want off the island.”
Chapter 23
Sam
I wake with my butt on the hull and my head cradled in my arms on the metal seat. A tiny crack of dawn helps me locate what must be east. Geography was never my strong suit. Even with a compass, I’d need to know what island I was taken to and where I was when I jumped in the boat to find my way.
The sun rises a little, illuminating a tackle box, lure and pole. I fished as a kid. Like riding a bike or stealing a car, it should come back to me. Also, I’ve eaten sushi.
Note to the wise, pregnant women should not picture gnawing into a raw fish first thing in the morning. I puke over the side and once I feel better, tie a shiny piece of metal onto the end of the line. Below, in the water, dark shadows follow my hook, but swim away disinterested.
“C’mon now. You know you want it.” Leaning over the side, I cast again, and reel in the thingamajig. Similar to the pied piper, a couple of fish follow.
This goes on until the sun is high overhead. Finally, one bites, I pull up hard, and it flops in the bottom of the boat. Eyes open, it struggles for breath and shoots me such a pathetic look, I almost throw it back.
“Sorry dude. Baby on board.” It could be days before I catch another and who knows how long it will take for Suds to realize I’m out here.
Now what? I search and find a curved knife. Then, like Tom Hanks inCast Away, I discuss my situation with my new friend.
