Forty-five minutes later, Delaney stared out the passenger-side window of the police cruiser. Noah had asked one of the cops to drive her to the airport to ensure she made it safely. Overkill, obviously. They approached the terminal after an uneventful ride.
The cop had been kind enough to keep the conversation light during the drive, talking about the weather and the upcoming holidays. She hadn’t had much to contribute, and eventually he’d fallen silent.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the apartment Violet had told her about. Based on what Mason had said, the cops wouldn’t be able to find it, certainly not anytime soon.
But Delaney had resources they knew nothing about.
The terminal building loomed ahead. She watched the signage…departures, arrivals, parking, cell phone lot.
One sign jumped out at her.
A few minutes later, the officer parked by the curb in Departures. “Here we are.”
They both got out, and he retrieved her suitcases from the trunk, then set them on the sidewalk.
“Thank you for the ride.”
“Safe travels, miss. I’m sure everything will work out.”
She wanted to ask him how he was sure, how it was all going to work out when a four-year-old girl was missing. Kidnapped, and in the hands of…
Hopefully, her mother, but her mother had lost custody of her once. She wasn’t fit, and if she was working with that rival of Noah’s, that Hayes guy, then who knew what he’d do to the child?
But Delaney didn’t say any of that. Instead, she thanked him again, then turned and headed for the doors.
Inside the terminal, she stared at the crowd in front of the check-in desk, business travelers and vacationers, singles and families.
Delaney could get on her flight. She’d be back in Shadow Cove by evening. She could go home to her parents’ house, where Mom would wrap her in familiar comfort while Noah and the others searched for Charlotte.
Or…
She thought about that other sign.
Rental Cars.
This probably wouldn’t work, but she had to try.
She shifted both suitcases into one hand and rolled them toward the Arrivals area, pulling out her phone. She searched, found the contact she needed.
Was this a good idea?
Maybe not, but if she could do anything to help, if she could play any part in bringing Charlotte home…
She pressed the contact number and raised the phone to her ear.
A moment later, a man answered. “Hey, cuz. How are you? Everybody’s been worried sick?—”
“Michael. The girl I’ve been caring for was kidnapped. I need your help to find the woman I think took her.”
A beat of silence, then, “Where are you? What can I do?”
Thank God. Thank God for cousins in the intelligence business.
Delaney reached Baggage Claim, spied the rental car booths, and marched that way while she explained what she needed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Hours had passed since Delaney left, and the inaction was killing him.
