Page 55 of Shattered Dreams

“Maybe not that way, but Zarah likes being near her. If she’s having an anxiety attack, Baby might be a better comfort than I could be, despite what you think.”

It didn’t occur to me until I said it that Zarah might be frozen in fear somewhere, hiding in the King’s Crossing airport, too afraid to text anyone, maybe too embarrassed to admit she didn’t have the courage to fly after all.

I grit my teeth as we rush across town, Zane driving as fast as he dares on the slippery roads.

“Keep an eye on her,” he says, handing me his phone.

The red dot pulses, and I concentrate on the map.

He turns onto the road that leads to the airport and I sit up straighter when he heads toward the airstrip reserved for private planes. We don’t need the airstrip, but the VIP entrance is also located at the back of the airport. Of course this is the way Zane is used to going inside. He’s probably never seen the public entrance in his life.

Blinking in surprise, I realize we drove by the dot. “Wait. This says we passed her phone. It’s on the road somewhere.” I look through the window, expecting to see Zarah standing on the shoulder, her thumb out, hitching, but of course I don’t see anything but evergreen trees, snow, and the airport building, a plane even now descending over a runway.

Zane slams on the brakes and Baby whines.

“Take it easy.”

“Sorry.”

He backs up along the empty road, and I hold up my hand. We’re right on top of the dot. “The app says her phone is right here. Are you sure this is her phone?”

“Yes. I only track her, Stella, Douglas, and Lucille.”

He jumps out of the truck before I can ask him if he tracks me. I bet he does. I bet the son of a bitch knows exactly where I am every single second of the day. Christ. He’ll love asking me what I was doing at Viv’s this morning.

The snowplows have been by and there are fresh snowbanks along the two-lane road. The app isn’t good enough to tell us to the inch where her phone is, but we’re parked right on top of the red dot. Her phone has to be here somewhere.

I look around helplessly. All this white shit. “This isn’t going to work. Do you have something of Zarah’s?”

“No. Well, I hugged her this morning and I was wearing this coat.”

“Let Baby get a whiff. Maybe she can help us. Phones aren’t like clothing, they don’t hold a scent, but Baby knows Zarah.”

Zane hunkers down to his haunches and lets Baby nose his jacket. Zarah has a special scent all her own, something I can get drunk on if I breathe in enough, and Baby’s familiar with it too.

“Find Zarah, sweetheart. Find Zarah.”

Baby’s ears perk up, and she starts to sniff the ground.

It’s not long until she’s off the road, five feet away, whining and pawing through two feet of snow.

Zane steps over the snowbank and onto the airport’s lawn. He helps Baby dig and pulls out a silver cell phone. “It barely has a charge. It’s too cold. We’ll have to warm it up.”

“It won’t tell us anything. Why the fuck is her phone out here? We need to talk to the pilot. Did she have a flight attendantscheduled to fly with her? Maybe she knows something. This isn’t good, Maddox.”

“Christ. Peggy booked the pilot and attendant. Mom and Dad used to keep them on staff, but I let them go after their deaths. We’ll have to ask if they’re still here or if they’re on other flights.”

He parks in VIP parking, and five seconds later we’re face to face with the executive director of the airport. He’s a distinguished looking guy, wears a suit, has a full head of hair, and he’s smiling nervously at Zane. He seems capable, at least. He tracks down the flight attendant and she’s sitting at our table in the VIP lounge faster than I can spit. If all our cases were handled with such efficiency, Pop and I could solve a hundred a day.

“Can you tell us what happened this morning, Maureen?”

At first I’m impressed the director knew her name—I forgot his the moment he introduced himself to us—but then I smartened up. I can read her nametag, too.

She clears her throat and eyes Zane through lowered eyelashes.

Jeez.

“We were just about to take off. Miss Maddox stood outside, like she was trying to find the courage to board. Maybe she was nervous about flying, but she had a melancholy air to her, if you know what I mean.”

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