Page 128 of Waiting For A Girl Like You
Annabeth scribbled down the name. “How will Liam find them? Is he just going to drive around aimlessly?”
“The bird was a loon.” Holden took the seat Will vacated. “Can you play Sinclair’s phone call back, Rowan?”
Recalling the recording, Sinclair’s voice came through Rowan’s laptop speakers. “I don’t, babe. We just cloned his number.”
“Fast forward to the part where he’s talking about Emily.” Holden’s brow furrowed as he listened, making Rowan reverse twice more so he could hear the bird calling out. “Yeah, that’s a waterfowl. Sinclair is on a lake or river.”
Holden pulled out his phone and made a call, placing it on speaker when a woman answered. “Where can I find a loon in northwest Arkansas?”
There was a pause, and then a woman with a heavy Southern accent spoke sarcastically. “And a good evening to you too, son.”
“Mama, I love you, but right now, I’m in the middle of something, and I need you to get into Dad’s avian database so I can figure out where to find a common loon in northwestern Arkansas during this exact time of year.” Holden held the phone between him and Rowan. “My friend is listening, so don’t say anything untoward.”
Rowan paused in his airstrip search, slowly rolling his head in Holden’s direction as if truly seeing the man for the first time. Annabeth did the same, obviously just as surprised when Holden slipped into an accent much like the woman on the phone. And it wasn’t something mild, like Rowan’s own Texan drawl, but deep and total backcountry.
“Are you from Alabama?” A stupidly pointless question at the moment, but Rowan had to ask.
“God, no.” Holden's face twisted in horror. “Go Dawgs.”
Georgia. Yeah, Rowan could hear it now. Holden’s rolling twang positively oozed with the sounds of rural Georgia.
“Who’s that?” the woman on the phone asked. “Holden, where are you?”
Not answering the question, Holden kept on pushing for the information. “I need the info, Mama. It’s super important that I know about these loons.”
“Specifically, near Eureka Springs,” Rowan added, leaning closer to make sure he was heard. “Please.Ma’am.”
“Are y’all playing trivia or something?”
“No, ma’am,” Rowan began. “We’re in the middle of a manhun—”
Holden immediately swooped the phone away from Rowan. “Yes, Mama. We’re playing trivia, and the clock is ticking. Can you fire up Dad’s old computer and look for me?”
“That man better not have been about to say what I think he was going to say,” the woman on the line huffed. “You promised you would take it easy.”
Holden glared at Rowan, sending a clear signal that he needed to watch what he said. “I’m taking it easy, Mama. I promise, I’m sitting here calmly while my friend and I toss questions around.”
“What’s happening?” Annabeth whispered.
Rowan didn’t look away from Holden. “I have no idea.”
“Elijah Ezra Holden, you better not be lying to me, or I will find you and take a switch to your butt, grown man or not.” The woman sighed. “You need a break after what happened. Mentally and physically.”
“And I’m getting one,” Holden assured her, lying his ass off as an agent came running into the waiting room to speak to Klausen. “Crisscross over my heart.”
“I’m going to crisscross over your ass if you’re lying to me,” his mother shot back. “Okay, the laptop is turning on. Ugh, this thing needs a good overhaul. I would hate to lose all your dad’s data if it dies. Marsha Fitzsimmon’s teenage son does computer repair. You remember her, don’t you? She lives down the street. Anyway, maybe I can get that boy to come over—”
Holden placed his phone against his chest, silencing his mother as she continued to talk. “My dad was an amateur ornithologist. Birds were his passion, but he loved waterfowl the most and created an extremely detailed map of their migratory patterns. I’m talking like, this is shit you can’t find on Google. People all over the world would contact him about it.”
Neither Rowan nor Annabeth said anything, unsure of how to take this new information.
“With it being November, migration will be in full swing,” Holden told them. “And if we can narrow down where the loons rest during migration, we can narrow our search.”
Annabeth’s mouth opened and closed a few times while Rowan’s brain processed what Holden was saying. Birds. Holden thought they could find Sinclair by using birds. It was insanity. True insanity.
But that didn’t matter anymore. Sanity was for the weak, and while he didn’t even know what the hell a loon was, if this bird could give them a clue on where to direct Liam, then cock-a-fucking-doodle do. They would chase a damn bird and its migration patterns halfway across the country.
Rowan snatched the phone from Holden. “Ma’am? Hi, it’s me again. My name’s Rowan, and I’m pretty good with computers. If you can help us, I’ll gladly transfer all your husband’s data to a new computer and set up a cloud that you can access from any device. But can you please hurry?”
