“Sam, what’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”
“What if it were our daughter? You know? And… something happened to me and you?”
“You’ve got at least a dozen cousins and over a hundred second-cousins, aunts, uncles-”
“Stop. But what if I didn’t. What if it was only you and me and our baby and what if she went into foster care and aged out without being adopted and ended up in the-”
“A whole lot of what-ifs darlin’.”
“I know, I know, but I feel bad. The system is all sorts of fucked up. Did you know every year, forty-thousand kids runaway in New York, alone?”
He whistles through his teeth. “Nope.”
“Well, I am going to find this one.”
“That’s my girl. Be careful and text me the minute you get home.”
As we say goodbye, the sleet and freezing rain turns to snow. My stomach grumbles, so I stop researching, refresh my makeup, and decide to eat in the hotel restaurant. A chill runs down my spine when a thirtyish blond man eyes me from the lobby bar. He’s still there after I finish my meal. I swear he looks familiar but I’m probably tired and my imagination is working overtime. Still, I don’t like his stare or his stance or the fact he swiveled on his stool as I walked by.
I especially don’t like how he shadows me to the elevator bay. Together, we watch the mechanical arrow rotate through the numbers. The car arrives at the bottom, the doors open, and my new best friend follows on my heels.
“Oops. Forgot something.” I shoot out a fraction ahead of the metal shutting on his scowling face.
I race up the stairs, check the empty hall, and dash to my room. Bolting myself in, I snap on the portable travel lock Suds gave me for my birthday. At the time, I was unimpressed but now, see the wisdom of his gift.
It takes a while for the adrenaline to wear off so I can sleep. It spikes again in the middle of the night when a solenoid disengages followed by a scraping noise.
I jump out of bed and reach for my weapon, which I didn’t bring because this was not supposed to be a risky assignment.
Fuck.
Metal rattles but my door doesn’t open, held tight by my husband’s thoughtful present. Shaking, I glance through the peep hole but whoever is out there, had the foresight to tape it over.
What the hell? I’m on the case of a missing teenager. This should not involve someone breaking into my room. Not wanting to be accused of being careless or stupid, or worse, a danger magnet, I stay put and do not open the door, even after an hour has passed. No longer able to sleep, I finish my romance novel, watch the way-too-early, morning news, then trot downstairs to explain what happened to the night shift manager.
Together, we view the video of my hall and fast forward to four AM when a palm covers the lens, and everything goes dark.
“Thanks for trying. Can you load yesterday’s footage here?” I write down a URL in the cloud before heading to the airport.
Antsy, I order some breakfast and work on my expense report. Like stool guy last night, I find a booth in the back and keep my eyes on the terminal.
Once I’m in the air, I heave a sigh of relief and sleep with my head resting against the window. A few hours later, I bounce down the escalator and walk past limo drivers holding up iPads. While some passengers meet their families, others wait by the baggage carousel. I hike my knapsack strap higher on my shoulder and step out the door looking for a white Chevy Malibu.
A man shoves me and when I move aside, another grabs my arm and motions me into a Town Car.
In the back seat, I turn to the same guy who was at the bar last night.
“Drink?” He opens a drawer with tiny bottles.
“Nope, I’m good.” There’s a shitload of witnesses and cameras everywhere. If he wanted me dead, he wouldn’t’ve taken me here. Committing his face to memory, I wait for him to say his spiel.
In his mid-forties, the clean-shaven guy’s brown eyes are too closely spaced. His suit is neither cheap nor designer. His nose has been broken at some time or another and his smile says expensive dental work.
It’s the smug confidence that gives him away. “I need you to back off your case… or else.”
Now I know, for sure, he’s a Fed.
