Page 19 of Nothing Left

Sierra was busy scrolling through the lists as Juliette sped along.

"There are quite a few flights leaving from both terminals to different destinations in the next couple of hours. It all depends on where he wants to go. The airport only starts getting quieter in another two hours' time."

Wyatt nodded. Speed was the top priority then because there were two terminals to check, both of which he could be using, and at both of which, there were airplanes ready to shuttle him into the air and over the border.

He frowned. He was worried by this behavior, and he knew that to flee was a sign of guilt. Now, everything hinged on whether they could stop this suspect in time.

Ahead was the airport. Now check the terminals.

Juliette parked outside the main gates, on a yellow line, with the police car's badge giving them the authorization they needed. They all jumped out of the car and headed inside, with Wyatt slowing down impatiently as they reached a large group of tourists dawdling along on their way through the doors.

Finally, they were past the sedately walking group and could gain some speed.

"We need to look in the ticket sale booths; we need to check the bag drop and check-in lines," he said. "Let's start from one end and work to the other. If he's already gone through passport control, then Ebury should be calling us any minute with that news. If he hasn't yet done that, it's up to us to find him."

With Enzo’s strong, dark features firmly in his mind, Wyatt strode along, taking in the appearance of every single passenger he saw and paying particular attention to those who were walking or standing alone. Although he didn't think it would be a huge priority for Enzo to sit down and have a coffee, he checked the tables just in case this man had cooler nerves than he anticipated.

He also checked the shops because, in his opinion, a man who made a hurried rush to the airport might need to stop and buy things he'd forgotten. Especially if he was heading somewhere colder or planning on going for a while.

But there was no sign of him anywhere in Terminal 1, which they'd arrived at first, and that meant it was time to sprint down the walkway and check Terminal 2, which had been Wyatt's first choice.

They hustled down the walkway, with Wyatt leading the way at a fast jog, making up the distance between the terminals as quickly as he could. And then, it was time to repeat the same process again, to tread over the tiled floor while vigilantly looking left and right and taking in every possible detail of every person that might help.

Wyatt's thoroughness and sharp eyes were rewarded when he saw a figure ahead that checked all the boxes. Height, broad shoulders, short dark hair, carrying a beaten-up travel bag with a university logo on it.

And he was walking with a hurried intensity in the direction of airport security.

"Look there," Wyatt muttered to Juliette. "Is that him?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Let's find out," she said.

They hustled closer, getting to within a few feet of the man, and then Juliette called loudly, "Enzo Garcia! Enzo!"

The sound of his name caused the man's head to jerk around. He stared at the agents for a horrified moment.

And then, he spun away and broke into a fast, desperate run.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Juliette had wondered if Enzo would run, but she'd calculated that she and Wyatt were close enough to prevent it. As this long-legged, twenty-two-year-old man launched himself along the tiled terminal building floor, knocking other people aside in his haste, she realized they were wrong.

"Enzo, stop! Police!" she yelled. She knew that he'd ignore the words, but it was still important to give him an official warning. And also to help warn everyone who was on his destructive path.

She hurled herself forward in pursuit, seeing immediately that this was going to be a challenge. The reason was: Enzo didn't care. He was prepared to plow through anyone in his way, from an elderly lady to a person on crutches, to a totally oblivious tourist texting on his phone.

And he did just that. The old lady was spun around, losing hold of her purse, which fell to the ground and burst open, scattering hundreds of items all over the floor. The man on crutches lost his grip on one, staggering sideways, grabbing hold of a fellow traveler to balance himself so that they both ended up sprawling down. And the poor tourist's phone got knocked out of his hand, clattering to the ground with a nasty smashing sound.

Juliette had time only for breathless apologies as she sprinted past the scene. But she could not wantonly mow down members of the public. She had a responsibility, even though she was screaming, "Clear the way," as loudly as she could.

Enzo dodged into a gift shop, charged around the display tables, and then ran out the other side, through the far door, into an adjacent corridor. Juliette followed, skidding and stumbling over a whole heap of items that he'd knocked off the table in his headlong flight.

He sprinted down a service corridor that Juliette had never even known existed. It was damp and dark and poorly lit. And then, flinging himself at the door at the end, he burst out into the main terminal building again.

Juliette was right behind him, grabbing the heavy door and wrenching it wide as she followed.

He rampaged through a restaurant, where she almost collided with a man carrying a tray of drinks but managed to swerve around him at the last second. Enzo had increased his lead, and she felt a flash of fear that he might get away, get far enough ahead to hide somewhere they weren't able to find him, or even leave the airport again, but Juliette was determined to catch up.

Then she saw the look on Enzo's face as he glanced back. It was one of pure desperation. He had one goal in mind, and nothing was going to stop him.

---