Page 101 of Almost Dead (The Cahills 2)

She rattled it off, and Jack turned the Jeep around. Tanya lived past the airport. It wasn’t all that far, but it felt like the traffic was purposely keeping them from their destination.

It was enough to send Cissy into overdrive. She wanted to scream at the delays.

“Come on…come on…”

They drove in silence for a few miles: Jack negotiating traffic, Cissy trying to keep herself calm. Finally, she admitted in a small voice, “It makes no sense. Tanya wouldn’t take Beej to her place. Why would she? The only time they ever went there was because Tanya had to get extra clothes because she was going on a last-minute date.”

“Where else do you want to look?”

“No, no. Keep going. We’ve got to get there. I don’t know! I just want my son. I want him to be okay.”

“He’s gonna be fine.”

“How do you know?” She was on the verge of hysteria.

“He’s with Tanya. She’s taking care of him.” Jack said the words like a mantra.

They screeched to a halt near her apartment complex. Cissy scanned the parking lot. “There’s Tanya’s car!” There wasn’t another space to be had in the lot, so Jack circled, looking for a parking place. Rain battered the windshield, pouring so hard it was like driving through a car wash. “Damn this weather,” he muttered.

“Just let me out!” Cissy had her fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“Just a sec.”

“Please, Jack…” Her teeth were chattering.

“Take it easy, Ciss. We’ll find him.”

Jack squeezed the Jeep into a lined No Parking zone. “Screw ’em,” he said, yanking on the brake. Cissy threw open her door. “I’ll go,” he told her. “You stay—”

“No way!” She practically ran across the street to the dun-colored complex, a boxy monstrosity that had to have been built in the late sixties or early seventies, evading the newer, more stringent city planning restrictions.

Rain poured over her, dousing her in a flood. She ran toward the wrought-iron gate that led to the inner courtyard. The gate had originally been on an automatic lock requiring a visitor to ring to be buzzed in, but that lock was broken and looked to have been for quite some time.

Cissy shoved her way through, and Jack was right behind her. She hurried to Tanya’s door and twisted the knob. Locked.

“Tanya!” Cissy beat on

the door with all her strength. “Are you there? Tanya! Open up!”

She waited a moment, holding her breath. Then Jack pounded his fists on the door panels as well, yelling even louder, “Tanya! It’s Jack and Cissy. Are you okay? We tried calling.”

They heard the sound of a window scrape open to their left. “Hey,” a disgruntled female voice called from one apartment over. “You trying to wake the dead? I work graveyard. Gimme a break.”

“My nanny lives here. She’s got my son,” Cissy said rapidly. “We can’t reach her. I’m scared to death something’s happened.”

“Keep your shirt on. I’ve got an extra key. Tanya and I swapped in case…something happened. I guess this is something.”

Cissy was on one foot and the other. She wanted to scream for the other woman to hurry. Jack stood like a sentinel by the door, arms crossed, expression taut.

Finally, a woman in her thirties opened her door, running a hand through tousled hair and squinting at Cissy and Jack. “It must be raining like the devil.”

“Please…” Cissy said.

“Okay, okay. You look harmless enough.” She gave Jack the once-over and self-consciously smoothed her robe. Rather than give them the key, she twisted open Tanya’s lock.

Cissy rushed inside, but Jack was even faster. Before she could react, he suddenly crushed her face to his chest. “Get out,” he ordered the neighbor. “It’s a crime scene.”

“What?” Cissy gasped. She wrenched herself free and shoved Jack aside, fear surging through her veins. Crime scene? “B.J.?” she whispered brokenly.

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