Page 50 of 2nd Strike
“You need her address?” he asks.
“I’ve got it from the background check I did last night. Keep looking for George’s girlfriend and see if Taylor will do a search for missing kids in California, especially any in Santa Monica that fit our parameters. George’s one-night stand may have had the baby and given it up for adoption, or it was kidnapped just like Ethan.”
“I’m on it.”
Meg disconnects and we hit the highway, heading for another suburb and Anita’s home.
22
Meg
I’m freaking out.
We’re racing to Anita’s house with Ethan and JJ in tow and every ounce of me is rebelling. Ethan has been through enough and we have no idea what we’re subjecting him to.
And then there’s JJ. Should he be here? On a professional level, I have no idea what kind of conflict this represents. He’s on suspension but he’s still a U.S. attorney.
Charlie hits the expressway ramp going fifty and presses the gas while I grip the door handle.
“I think we should drop JJ and Ethan at the office.”
“I’m going,” JJ adds.
“Me, too.”
I spin back to JJ. “Have you lost your mind?”
He gives me a rueful smile. “Probably long ago.”
“Well,” Charlie says, “Ethan is a kid. We’re the adults. He shouldn’t be here.”
“Hey,” the so-called kid says. “It’s my life. And, I’m the one who came to you in the first place.”
I glance at my sister whose eyes haven’t left the road. A good thing since she’s pushing eighty-five.
“Charlie?” Ethan asks. “Please.”
He’s a charmer. Charlie’s right, he shouldn’t be here, but he’s not your average teenager. He’s already seen too much of life. Plus, he’s been involved from the get-go.
Charlie sneaks a peek in the rearview and meets JJ’s eye. “Damn you, both. Promise me you’ll stay in the car.”
“Nuh-uh. No way.” This from Ethan.
I turn back to JJ, silently pleading. We don’t know what we’ll be walking into and we have to protect him. Even if he’s been an active part of this investigation, some lines we can’t cross.
JJ nods. “We’ll stay in the car.”
“That’s crap,” Ethan whines.
Relief settles on me and I let out a long breath. “Yeah, well, welcome to life, my young friend.”
We spend the next twenty minutes ensconced in blessed quiet, but I know my sister. She’s devising a plan. I can see it in the set of her jaw, her focus on the road.
She’s in takedown mode.
Look out, people.
Ethan’s phone buzzes. “It’s my dad,” he says.
