Page 16 of Desperate Creed

“You remember my friend, Francine Russo?”

He nodded and waited. The woman had visited a couple of times, but it had been at least two or three years ago. Of course he remembered her. She was attractive: olive skin; hazel eyes; thick, dark hair. A bit high-strung though. She and Hannah would stay up late into the night talking, laughing, catching up, but by the third day, Frankie seemed restless.

Hannah always ribbed her about being a city girl, that she missed her Starbucks not being within walking distance. Frankie usually admitted it was too quiet in the middle of nowhere. But Creed knew the two women still called and kept in touch. Something in their childhood had bonded them together. He’d never asked. He’d never pry. He figured if Hannah wanted him to know, she would tell him.

He listened now without interrupting.

“Frankie and I have known each other since we were girls. I’ve never heard her so frightened.

“They hacked into a corporation’s computer system?”

She shook her head even as she said, “Yes, that’s what her co-worker, Tyler, told her.”

“And she knows for sure that this Tyler, that his friend has been shot dead. What about Tyler?”

“It only just happened early this morning. I think she’s hoping he’ll show up in an ER somewhere. If the men who attacked him took his wallet, the hospital might not be able to identify him.”

“How does she know it’s the same men waiting for her at her office?” Creed asked.

“She said she recognized the man’s scar. Look, I know it all sounds crazy, but I know Frankie. She’s not one to jump to conclusions. She’s also not easily spooked.” She paused with her elbows on the table, her coffee cup wrapped in her hands. “She sounded so scared, Rye.”

“Is she driving down or flying?”

Hannah stared at him then her face broke into a smile of relief. She reached across the table, grabbed his arm and gave it a squeeze. “You and me are two peas in a pod. She’s headed to the airport.”

She laced her fingers back around her coffee mug. There was something else. Creed saw her bracing to tell him, as if this next part was more contentious than any of the rest. “Frankie asked if there was any way I could ask my FBI friend to check on this.”

“Maggie?” He tried not to react, but he swallowed too hard.

“Yes.”

“Do you think this is an FBI matter?”

“Probably not,” Hannah admitted. “Actually, I hope it’s not. But Maggie would have resources available to her. She could find out what the Chicago police might know. If these young men did hack into a computer system, that is a federal offense.”

“You should call her.”

“You won’t mind?”

“Me? Why would I mind? Besides, it shouldn’t matter what I think? You and Maggie are friends.”

“It’s just that...well, ever since last fall, anytime I mention Maggie you’ve been like a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.”

“Really?” He laughed. “Is that a real thing?”

“My granny used to say it all the time.” Her expression got serious again. “Don’t change the subject. Something happened in Nebraska between you two. It wasn’t just about finding Brodie.”

He got up from the table, took his coffee cup to the sink and started rinsing it out. The task gave him an excuse to give her his back without being too rude.

“I know it’s none of my business, Rye,” Hannah continued. “I haven’t said anything, because we all have been busy and concerned about Brodie. But now that I have your attention, I will say this. I hope you’re not going to throw away a friendship.”

“Me and Maggie are friends,” he told her, turning around to face her.

“It’s just that every time I mention her name you get all funky.”

“Funky? You mean like a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs?”

She waved her hand at him and smiled.