Page 27 of Blind Luck

I thought Kelsey might go back to her room to brush her teeth after breakfast or pick up a sweater, but instead, she turned left for the lobby, checking her watch as she went.

“You think she’s meeting someone?” Rusty asked.

“Maybe.”

But she wasn’t meeting them at the hotel. She walked out of the lobby and joined the cab line.

Uh-oh.

“I’ll get my car,” Rusty said.

“No point in doing that.” Kelsey would be long gone by the time he made it out of the parking garage. “We’ll take a cab too.”

And we’d take it quickly. I speed-walked to the next vehicle in line, trying to look excited rather than stressed.

“We don’t have all day, honey,” I called over my shoulder. Ari often played a character on surveillance, and I had to do the same. Fortunately, Rusty got a hustle on.

“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked.

“Wherever the car in front goes.”

He twisted in his seat to look at me as I settled in the back beside Rusty.

“This isn’t the movies; I can’t just follow people. That doesn’t seem very ethical to me.”

Fantastic. I’d picked the only cab driver in Las Vegas with morals.

“I’ll pay you an extra two hundred bucks.”

He considered that for a second. “Buckle up, ma’am.”

Okay, not that many morals.

He peeled away from the hotel, put his foot down, and caught up with Kelsey’s car as it trundled south on Paradise Road. Caughtrightup.

“Hey, not so close. Don’t sit on his bumper. Haven’t you ever tailed anyone before?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Just keep a couple of cars between us, okay?”

“Two hundred bucks?” Rusty whispered in my ear.

“It’s the going rate.” Probably.

We followed Kelsey to Koval Lane, where she stopped outside a building advertising sunset helicopter tours. For the second time: uh-oh. I mean, it wasn’t sunset. Perhaps she wasn’t going to fly on a helicopter?

Rusty paid the driver while I watched Kelsey push open the front door of Sky’s the Limit Tours. Through the glass, I saw a man with sandy-blond hair rise from a seat in the waiting area, and she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. Hmm, this was interesting. The guy said a few words to a girl behind the front desk and then motioned Kelsey toward a door at the rear. The moment they disappeared, I went inside myself.

“Hi, excuse me? I’m hoping to book a sightseeing tour, and a lady I met by the slot machines recommended your company. Do you have any availability today?”

“What time are you looking for?”

“This morning? I mean, right now would be great.”

She gave a nervous giggle. “I’m afraid those were our last two passengers for the eight thirty tour. Our next availability is…”—she click, click, clicked with the mouse—“six p.m. for the sunset tour. That’s our most popular trip, and when it comes to making memories, you won’t beat it. A flight over the Grand Canyon with dinner included. Should I book you a seat?”

I leaned over the desk and caught a glimpse of the booking list as the desk lady scrolled through various pages. There were seven passengers on the eight thirty trip, and I memorised their names. Kelsey, three other women, and three men.

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