Page 62 of Fire on the Moon

“I don’t think I can.”

“Don’t you think it’s better if you’re rested when we go to see your dad?” Zane asked.

“I guess you’re right,” she agreed.

The Decorah agents changed the configuration of the furniture, folding several of the chairs into beds, then drew a curtain across the cabin.

Francesca flopped onto one of the beds. Zane took the other. He was also sure he wasn’t going to get any sleep, but fatigue and stress had taken their toll. He didn’t wake up until Brand announced over the comms system that they would be landing in twenty minutes.

He blinked and looked out the window, seeing a large metro area below them. Glancing across at Francesca, he noted that her face was pinched. He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“How can it be?”

“We’ll make sure it is.”

They landed at the small airport and taxied to the general aviation area, where a car was waiting. As soon as Francesca stepped off the plane, Zane saw her shiver.

“I forgot it was going to be cold up here,” she said.

Knox came up behind her with a man’s jacket. Wear this for now.”

“Thanks.”

Zane zeroed in on her expression. “Something else is bothering you.”

“I want to get to my father as soon as possible. But I feel like a mess, and I must look like one, too.”

“Why don’t you call the nursing home, and see how he’s doing. If you get a good report, we can stop on the way to clean up.”

“Yes.”

Zane pulled out the burner phone and handed it to Francesca. When she called the nursing home, they had some good news. Her father was better than when she’d left him.

Zane saw her face light up and slipped his arm around her shoulder.

“We’ll be over in a couple of hours,” she said, then looked at the Decorah agents for confirmation.

“Perfect,” Knox said.

“Are you coming with us?” she asked.

“Yeah, for insurance.”

She thought for a moment. “I could go home. I’ve got clothes there.”

“But I don’t,” Zane countered. A little worm of worry gnawed at him.

“What does that expression mean?” Francesca demanded.

“I’d rather you not go home yet.”

“Why?”

“Did your uncle know where you live?” he asked.

“No. I wasn’t going to tell him until it seemed like everything was okay.”

“Smart,” Zane answered, but he was only partly reassured. He’d thought more than once that nothing about their present trouble was exactly as it seemed. He hoped her father’s story would clear that up.

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