“On it,” Ozzie replied, his fingers already flying.
The group watched him work in tense silence. A second passed. Then another and another. Finally, Ozzie scrubbed both hands down his face.
“It’s a standard cargo vehicle,” he said. “White-label. There are thousands on the road. Could be commercial. Could be private. And there aren’t any mods to help us hone in. Trying to find exactly which vehicle it is could take weeks.”
The warm bubble of hope inside Hew’s chest didn’t pop. But it certainly deflated.
“Wait a minute. Everyone, be quiet.” Eliza lifted a hand, motioning for silence as she pressed her cell phone to her ear. “Who’s at the gate asking to speak with me?” She paused, and Hew watched both of her sleek, dark eyebrows arch high over her pale forehead. “Okay. Yes. Send her through.”
When she pocketed her phone, her brow furrowed in confusion. “My father’s assistant is here asking for me.”
“Your father?” Hew said, not daring to dream the chief of staff might have changed his mind about helping them.
“His assistant,” Eliza emphasized. “What does that mean?”
“Only one way to find out,” Boss declared, and the entire group moved as a unit toward the stairs, drawn by the spark of optimism the mysterious assistant’s arrival flamed to life.
They pounded down the treads in a thunderous line. And when they hit the cement of the bottom floor, the soles of their shoes boomed around the cavernous space like gunshots as they raced en masse toward the front door.
Eliza was the one to swing it open with a pop and a hiss. And they all watched as a pretty woman in a black pencil skirt hustled toward them. Her blue silk blouse was tied at her throat in a delicate knot. And her mass of red hair was wind-tossed and wild.
There was determination in her heart-shaped face. Unfortunately, Hew noted, there was nothing in her hands.
No giant bag of cash. No handcart stacked with gold bars.
“Lura?” Eliza held the door wide so the woman could step inside. A sheen of sweat glowed over her freckled face. “What in the world are you doing in Chicago?”
“After your call this morning, I caught the first flight out,” the redhead explained, sounding as breathless as she looked. “I—” She glanced around. “Good grief! Will you get a load of this place? I mean, I’ve been following the social media posts. So I knew you all were doing amazing stuff here. But to be standing in?—”
“Lura,” Eliza cut in, and Hew wanted to kiss her right on the mouth. And never mind the shiner I’d get from Fish. Because if she hadn’t interrupted the redhead, he would have. They didn’t have time for a tour. “Why are you here?”
“Oh, right.” Lura nodded briskly. “See, here’s the thing. I know where?—”
She stopped again, and it took everything Hew had not to grab her shoulders and shake her like a rag doll.
“Graham Coleburn?” the redhead blinked.
Hew glanced over his shoulder to find Graham standing there with his mouth hanging open and his eyes bugging out of his head.
Now Hew understood what a horny toad trying to shit a chicken bone must look like.
“Lura Dougherty,” Graham recovered enough to say lowly, slowly. “As I live and breathe. How’s your momma and them?”
Hew had fallen into an alternate universe. One where nothing made sense and no one was in a hurry to change that fact.
Eliza looked between Graham and the new arrival. “You two know each other?”
Hew barely heard the answer, still trying to keep hold of the threads of his sanity so he wouldn’t unravel completely. He knew his voice sounded as rough and ferocious as a black bear caught in a trap, but he didn’t care.
He didn’t care because nothing mattered except finding Sabrina.
“Enough!” he roared. Then, he pointed a finger at the new arrival and demanded, “Why are ya here? And what does it have to do with this morning’s phone call?”
Lura didn’t flinch. She simply nodded curtly, like she was used to men thundering questions at her.
“Right. So, I know how you all can get ten million dollars.”
9
