Chapter 37 Blink and Fizzle
blink and fizzle
Cian
“No signal.” I turn my phone to the table, shoving my chair back until it hits the ground.
Ayla’s already up and moving. Christian flanks her with a hand low on her back. His head swivels as if he’s waiting for the boogeyman to jump out and get her.
Liam and I are a split second behind them until I get blocked by our waiter asking how service was. I dodge and weave, looking for Liam who’s in a full-out sprint around the restaurant, his phone lighting up as he goes.
“Excuse me.”
“But Sir—”
Without shame, I shove past the guy, running full-bore after my brother.
By the time the pig bear man thing jumps in front of me, he’s lucky I don’t swing. I’ll be lucky to make it out of here in handcuffs with my erratic, violent-appearing behavior. Taking a deep breath, I do everything I can to not look as crazed as I am.
“Liam,” I call to no response.
Christian and Ayla are nowhere to be seen.
Cold dread seeps into my body and pools in my gut. I did this. I brought us here. I orchestrated a party that could end in trag— I cut the thought off. Focus, Murphy. Where do I start?
My phone dings, finally receiving signal.
Vigilance24/7 Alert: Phone belonging to Renée Ocotea sounded alert.
Vigilance24/7 Alert: Phone belonging to Renée Ocotea is moving at a rapid pace.
Vigilance24/7 Alert: Phone belonging to Sariah Ocotea is moving at a rapid pace.
Fuck. Shit. Fuck.
My heart falls to my shoes, and my dinner threatens to make an appearance.
I stop dead in my tracks, being jostled in all directions by the waves of people moving around me.
Opening the app, I hit the map icon. Both phones are heading down Colfax almost to C-470. They’re miles away.
Me: I will find you. Be smart.
It’s all I can say to Sariah.
To Renée I send:
Me: We know where you are, and we’ll find you. Hide your phone. You’ll be okay.
Lifting my phone to my face, I dial Liam and tear out to the parking lot.
“Yeah?”
“Liam, they’re gone. Heading west on Colfax. I’m moving out. I need info.”
“Right behind you.”
“What about Emma and Rosie?”
“I’ll get Ayla on them. Go.” He disconnects, and I run like my life depends on it.
… Because it does.
My truck smells like them. It has their water bottles and hair ties in the cupholders. It fuels my fear and galvanizes my resolve.
“What the fuck do I do?” I scream into the void and pound the steering wheel. I probably look insane. It’s not far off the mark.
“Call Liam,” I say to the truck as I turn across three lanes of traffic onto Colfax, coming dangerously close to side-swiping a sports car.
“Yeah?” the sound of his engine revving blares in the background.
“What do I do?” I speed straight through a red light, watching the flash of a traffic camera clock my plate and give me a ticket.
“I’m getting to my computer as fast as I can.”
“I’m looking at the app. They’re northbound on C-470. I’m following until I can’t follow anymore.” I look at my gas gauge and regret that I don’t have a full tank.
“Did Ayla get Emma and Rosie?”
“Don’t know. I gave them the message and bailed. They’ll figure it out.”
“How far are you from home?”
“Way too damn far, brother.”
“Let’s eliminate. Who could it be?”
Who isn’t it? I think. “Could be her bosses or someone that works for them. Could be any one of the four hundred some that she got busted by the FBI. Could be Renée’s father or any of his cult members. Could be—”
“Dad?” he cuts in.
“I won’t rule him out, but he’s my least concern right now.
How would he know about Sariah and Renée?
” I stop at a red light. If the intersection weren’t so congested, I’d blow through it.
I watch the app and see the two dots still northbound on C-470, coming to the C-470 interchange with US 6 and I-70.
“Mom was at the hospital with Sariah for your surgery.”
Shit feels like ages ago. “True. Still my lowest suspect.” I merge onto C-470, gunning it as my truck masters the incline. This road is known for police, and the desire to catch up and the desire not to be slowed down war within me.
Texts pop up on the screen.
Ayla: No Rosie. No Emma. Had the management call for both over the loud speakers and turn all the house lights on for an emergency.
Ayla: It’s been nearly fifteen minutes. How long should we wait?
Christian: Ren is standing by. Fitz is too. Tell me what you need and it’s done.
I repeat it all to Liam who is still on the line as the dots leave 470 and four-leaf clover around and through the massive interchange, heading west on US 6.
“West on 6. What’s out there, Liam?”
“Nothing much. Mines.” He means the university. “Tourist shit. The river. And the long way to Lyons and Estes.”
“Hang a second.”
Me: Another ten at least. Don’t even know Emma’s mom to know who to call.
“Where does the river go, Li?”
“Don’t know. Not a great evacuation plan. No one makes an escape on an inner tube. I need five minutes and I’ll be home.”
“I’m almost to the mousetrap.” I can’t watch the app and keep all the tires on the ground with these one-lane exits. When I’m on US 6, I see the dots slow near the golf course. “They’re slowing. What’s near a golf course?”
“Nothing. Just an— Fuck. There’s a private airstrip there. Mostly used for the guys with old money who want to joyride. They look the other way when the hang gliders aren’t everywhere.”
“I’m following. Call Christian. See if anyone he knows can get us info on anything that’s there. Types, styles. Fuck. I don’t speak aircraft. Out.”
I rip north off of 6, well above the legal speed limit. Like arrested-level above the speed limit and tear down the side street trying to close in on my dots.
On my family.
A shitty old little plane buzzes over as the dots blink and fizzle, dying right above my truck.