“You coming or not?” Our injured client doesn’t wait for my response. Turning, he limps outside, and jumps into a late model Toyota.
Sam slides in the back. If she thinks holding the door open for me will gain my forgiveness, she’s sorely mistaken.
“You really pissed me off.” In truth, what I feel is far more difficult to deal with. A damn bullet grazed her scalp. What if I had lost her? How could I go on? One fraction of an inch lower and…
Swallowing hard, I look away and squeeze my eyes until the stinging stops. Seconds later, the touchy-feely nonsense fades, I focus on the present, and reconsider calling the Manhattan office. The police will want our statements and it might be better if no one knows we left town.
Dash plugs a USB cable into the cigarette lighter, and holding his phone, twists around in his seat. “Listen, I know you think I’m an ass, but you have to believe, your employee is my top priority.”
The desperation in his voice can’t be faked. I may not like how he manipulated us, but his loyalty to her sounds genuine.
Sam’s head lolls to my chest. Poor dear, she’s plumb tuckered out. So she won’t suffer from a sore neck, I lower her to my lap and my eyes droop. When I wake, we’re at the airport.
Dash, the first out the door, races through the open gate of the twisted wire fence to speak with the pilot while I pat my gal’s cheek.
“We’re here. Wake up.” My chest constricts at her scrunched-up face. No doubt her pain killers have worn off.
“We’re in Seattle?” Her confusion worries me. She lost a lot of blood and perhaps it’s affected her cognitive functions.
I answer her question with a straight face. “Yup. We stepped into a black hole and zap, here we are.”
Her eyes widen and when the words sink in, she sits up, and presses her nose to the window.
“Oh yeah? Then where’s Mulder and Scully?” Wiping drool from her mouth, fingers on the door, she pauses. “Did we hear from Landy?”
“Not yet.” I thank our driver, run around the front, and help Sam to stand.
Minutes later, we’re taxiing the runway, and take to the air.
Even though it’s not my first ride in a private jet, I’m still impressed. Smaller than Patten’s, it boasts four swivel leather lounge chairs, able to recline fully. Couches with blankets and pillows line both sides of the long interior. End tables contain evenly spaced USB and power jacks, for those wanting to work during the flight.
After we level off, our steward, Patel, informs us we can unbuckle. Thinking she should take the couch, I turn to my exhausted wife but she’s already sawing logs.
Montclair, sitting across from us, pulls out a laptop, plugs it in, and hands me another. Despite working for hours, we get no closer to finding our new hire. Not only is she not answering her phone, but it’s also as if she never arrived in Seattle. Upon reaching this brick wall, I decide my time would be better spent catching a few Z’s. Maybe, with more cylinders firing, I’ll be able to think clearly.
When I wake, he’s still at it.
“Anything?” I whisper so as not to wake Sam.
He shakes his head, no. “While you were out, Slate called. He wants to talk to you.”
“Not surprised.” I take the coffee offered by the flight attendant, put my cell phone on speaker, and call the Manhattan office.
“You rang?” As his keys click, I take no offense at his lack of greeting. According to him, they’re a waste of time.
A few seconds later, his voice sounds through my computer speaker, “The DEA boys are pissing and moaning at how you left their crime scene.”
His warm chuckle contradicts the concern he tried to convey, and I laugh. “Well, tell them to hold their damn horses. We’ll answer all their questions as soon as we return. Right now, we got a missing woman to find.”
“What more can I do to help?”
Patten Securities always has my back, so I’m not surprised, but Montclair’s more of a loner and his good eye pops open at the generous offer.
Leaning forward, he seems revitalized. “Someone at CloudTekToys wiped all the live cam footage in the area. I’ve called everyone but because there’s no actual crime and it’s the middle of the night, no one will help until morning.”
“On it. I’ll let you know as soon as we find something.” As always, Slate hangs up without saying goodbye and Montclair does a double take.
Before I can explain, the pilot tells us to buckle up and get ready to land. Ears painful, I yawn, and release the pressure. Next to me, Sam, chair all the way back, snores lightly. A shudder wracks my nervous system, but I tamp it down. At some point I’ll digest the fact I nearly lost her. Right now, we need to focus on Lanita.
