He bit down on his bottom lip as if he had to physically repress whatever he wanted to say, then nodded once before taking the leap.
“I’ll be back to check in,” he declared without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
“You know where to find me.” She shrugged, but the joke was wearing as thin as her nerves.
This time she forced herself not to follow his retreating form. Watching him go was torture, and she was getting tired of beating herself up over their situation. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Not with Jake. Not with Baker or whoever was doing this. And she was tired of absorbing the hits.
It was time to strike back.
Opening the memo section on her phone, she tapped the little microphone icon and began to speak. When she was done dictating the gist of the story, she stopped the recording and slanted her head back, closing her eyes and trying to conjure the scene. She’d worked in security and law enforcement long enough to know the key to most locked boxes was often lying in plain sight. She needed to relax and try to piece together the whole picture.
She’d traveled back in time to the day she’d first encountered Airman Trevor Baker. She’d had a corporal working with her that day. A trainee. Not new to Security Forces, but new to the base. They were going through the motions. A routine check for ID and guest clearance.
The car was sporty. She’d always been bad at identifying models, but she knew for certain it was a Chevrolet. Newer. Shiny and sleek but outfitted with one of those rumbly exhaust systems designed to draw attention. It had sure caught hers.
Her mobile phone buzzed, jerking her out of the memory.
She looked down at the device in her hand, but the lock screen displayed only a reflection of the sunny weather. Groaning, she reached for her original phone and clicked open the messaging application.
Miss me?
She gave an indelicate snort but didn’t bother typing a reply. It vibrated again a second later.
How’s life in the fast lane, Lieutenant?
This time, her anger overrode her impulse control. Tapping the reply window, she answered.
I love it here.
The moment the three dots appeared, she regretted engaging with them. The person or people doing this had them running in circles and they knew it. She curled her lips in and bit down as she waited for their response.
Sad to end it. Things are getting fun.
Sitting up, Cassidy typed as fast as she could.
How does this end?
She waited. And waited. But as the minutes passed, it became clear she was not going to get an answer. Ditching the phone for the new one, she placed a call to Jake. He barely got her name out before she started talking.
“Our guy texted,” she said without preamble.
“Our guy?” Jake replied, his surprise evident.
“Guy, gal, whatever,” she said dismissively. “Asked if I missed them, how I liked the fast lane, used my rank again,” she said, feeling breathless. And then a memory caught.
Baker. Or Baker’s brother. The guy behind the wheel of the shiny muscle car. His smirky smile. His mocking tone mimicking the formal tone of address Airman Baker had used when answering her questions.
“I think I know,” she said, almost speaking to herself.
“Know? Know what?”
“I think I know who we’re looking for,” she said, her words coming slow as she tried to focus on putting the pieces together.
“You do?”
“I think,” she cautioned.
Cassidy curled her fingers into a fist and squeezed as if she could physically hold on to the wisp of certainty she felt when she shifted her attention to Airman Baker’s brother. What had his name been? They’d both testified against him in court, but she was having a hard time coming up with the details.
