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The way he’s asking her, it’s as if he’s putting her on trial. And he wants everyone in the room to hear it all, even though it’s all documented in our network.
Sage nods. The fingers of one hand rub back and forth over her knuckle, as if she’s self-soothing. “He also got me alternative identification. A North Dakota license, a US passport, and an EU passport.”
“Did he create a similar duffel bag for Sloane?” Ryan asks.
I should’ve thought to ask her that yesterday.
“Yes,” Sage answers. “I only know because Sloane and I both talked about it. We both worried he was suffering from PTSD or some condition that was making him paranoid.”
“Did she take the duffel bag with her when she moved to the Caymans?”
“Possibly. She moved some furniture and boxes to my basement before she left. I never went through the boxes. She was going to park her car in my garage but decided to sell it instead.” Sage sucks on her bottom lip, thinking. “Sloane doesn’t like guns. She refused to learn how to shoot one, so Sam wouldn’t have given her one. But she probably would have kept the false identification.”
Kairi speaks up. “Can you messenger me the IDs you have?”
Sage looks to me.
“Yeah. We’ll send them up today,” I answer.
“Can’t promise anything. But there might be a marker to indicate where Sam got them. If Sloane’s on the run, she’s probably using the alternative passports. If we can find who made the passports, we can probably figure out what alias she’s using.” Kairi’s gaze falls on Sage. “But that’s an off-the-wall idea. Don’t get your hopes up. If it’s quality work, we won’t be able to tell.”
A loud crash sounds through the speaker. Millie sits up at attention.
“Guys, I gotta go,” Kairi says. “Keep Slack updated.”
Felix taps Max. “Let’s go pull any satellite photos of the islands. Compare over the prior ten years, see if we see a bigger facility on a nearby island. Also look for interior photos of these buildings. Let’s see if we can locate any facilities on the island or nearby islands that might hold someone.”
“We’ll join you,” I say. It’s unlikely we’ll discover anything from aerial photos, but it’s a possibility.
Felix shakes his head and cuts his eyes to Sage. “We got this. Take her up to the roof deck. Get some fresh air.”
I study Sage. Does Felix see something? Is she not feeling well?
When I met Sam, he’d been an old soul at the ripe age of sixteen. And the reason had to do with his littlest sister. She’d been born with a congenital heart defect, and I’d never seen a guy so concerned about a sibling. He’d call to check in after we walked out of a movie. Didn’t go camping. Missed many a weekend party to sit with his sister at the hospital. She’d been in and out of the hospital. And then the big day came. Heart and double lung transplant. We’d been at the Naval Academy, and he rushed home to be with his family.
Out of habit, I lead Sage to the stairwell. It’s only three flights, but I hear her inhale and halt. “Do you wanna take the elevator?”
“I can handle the stairs, Knox.” Her smile smacks my chest. Not a punch, but more of a heated massage pad right over the sternum. She’s been through so much, and yet she practically glows positivity.
“You take your medicine this morning?” She rolls her eyes as if I’m nagging her. I get people fussing over her drives her nuts. I’d be the same damn way. But Felix told me to get her fresh air and… “You doing okay?” I’m not sure I trust her to tell me if she’s not.
“As good as I can be, you know, given Sloane.” Right.
She frees Millie from the leash, and Millie lunges forward on the stairwell, nearly knocking Sage down.
“Hey,” I yell at the dog. Her tail wags as she bounds up the stairs, completely disregarding me.
Sage laughs. “It’s fine. It’s instinct. She’s pushing ahead.”
“Instinct, you say? Need I remind you she’s an obedience school flunkee?”
“Maybe she’s just a better pet.”
She passes through the threshold and into the bright California sun. A few scattered clouds mix in with the blue sky. The silver bracelet on her wrist glitters.
The Arrow building is about eight blocks back from the ocean, but from the roof, you get the view and remnant ocean breeze. If you step closer to the edge, palm trees line the streets. Bikers, rollerbladers, scooters, and pedestrians traverse the sidewalks and the streets. The ambience reeks of vacation. Santa Barbara reminds me of parts of San Diego. It’s much smaller than San Diego, but the beach vibe is similar and, like San Diego, it’s expensive as hell.
Sage takes in the view, and I take in her. She’s so completely different than I remember, but some things are the same. Her warmth. Genuine kindness. It almost oozes out of her pores. Tom Petty’s words about a good girl come to mind when I look at Sage. Back then, she was a kid. But now, I’d hate to think of a bad boy—again, Tom Petty’s words—coming along and breaking her heart.
