Thirty-six
Ciro
“Chiara—” I yell into phone.
“She just got out at the United terminal,” Katie quietly says.
She’s no longer there. I failed her.
I disconnect the call, and I dial her phone. It rings twice before dropping to voicemail.
She rejected the call.
I don’t leave a message. I end the call and bring up Jim’s number, pressing it through as I turn toward the monitors.
He answers on the first ring. “I’m almost at the terminal.”
“You have eyes on her?” I say, pulling the outbound flights onto the screen, filtering for Los Angeles.
“We do. She’s clearing security right now and heading to a gate.”
“Alone?”
He’s quiet a moment, and my heart races. “We can’t be sure, but we have eyes on Massimo, and we’ll be close.”
“Keep your distance,” I say, shifting to the terminal layout. “I don’t want her spooked before we know what she’s facing.”
“I’ve got a team boarding her flight. We’ll keep her covered,” Jim says. “And I’m heading to the private plane terminal. If you can get here, you can fly down with me.”
“I’m getting in the car now, and I’m on my way. Don’t leave without me.”
Victor is out front waiting for me. I hop in the backseat. “Take me to the private plane terminal at SFO.”
Once I’m in the car, I pull up the clone of her phone and the email app. I see it immediately.
Alyssa.
I open it.
“Shit.”
“What did you find?” Jim asks.
I never disconnected the call. I read it once aloud to him, and then again, slower, my focus narrowing on the reference to Clear Security.
“Do you have a leak?” I ask.
A pause. Then, “It appears I might.”
I lean back slightly, dragging a hand across my mouth as I read the closing again.
“I hope it’s just Alyssa pushing her,” he adds.
“It’s not,” I say, tapping the screen once. “She doesn’t question Alyssa, and that closing isn’t hers. It’s pure manipulation.”
“If her father’s pushing outward, that’s the cleanest way to force movement,” Jim says.
Jim exhales. “That’s enough.”
“Not just to move her,” I say, tightening the timeline. “To break her from me.”
A beat passes.
“Then they’re not chasing her,” he says. “They’re pacing her.”
“They’re letting her lead,” I say, watching the flow through the terminal. “Because wherever she goes next matters.”
“She’s going right into their arms.”
“To both of them,” I correct. “She’s not moving blind. She’s following something.”
“And we can’t be sure what we’re facing.”
I nod once, tapping the screen as the pattern locks. “They didn’t need a mole in your team. They just bluffed, and we all fell for it.”
I look out at the traffic as Victor weaves his way to the airport.
“They planted the confirmation,” I say. “They knew I had some information, but they told her enough to believe it, and then they let her move.”
The call ends, and I set the phone down and don’t reach for it again right away.
Outside, the bay moves the same way it always does, slow barges cutting under the bridge, steady and uninterrupted.
I pick up the phone again and hit redial. It rings once before dropping to voicemail.
“I should have told you.” I end the call before the tone.
“They just took off,” Jim tells me. “We’re cleared to take off. Do you want me to wait for you?”
“Follow her. I’ll get another flight and catch up.”
I’ve done so many things I regret in life, but they all pale in comparison to this. Jim was right. I should have told her we found her mother. At least then I might have been able to control this. Now, Massimo and his team are waiting for her and their mother is a sitting duck.
“They didn’t give her a location,” I say.
“They gave her confirmation—and made sure she knew you were holding the rest.”
“Yes.”
“Pull the coverage back,” I say.
There’s a beat on the line. “That exposes her,” Jim says.
“I know.”
“And Chiara,” he says, not letting it go. “Where does she sit in that?”
“You meet her with the address,” I say. “You keep eyes on her. You don’t interfere unless they close in.”
“That’s not protection.”
“No,” I say. “It forces them to move.”
“You’re using her.”
“I’m ending this,” I say, my voice flat as I pull the next thread into place. “That’s the difference.”
Another pause. Shorter this time.
“And if you’re wrong,” Jim says. “If this closes on her before you get there.”
I don’t answer immediately. I shift the map forward and watch the line hold.
“Then I deal with what’s left,” I say.
“Forward,” I say, and end the call.