Page 53 of But For You

Riley and Peter were watching a movie they probably shouldn’t have been, but my kids were asleep, and Riley was watching through her fingers while her brother called her a scaredy-cat. I checked the phone to see if there were any messages and then left the kids alone and went down to the front desk. They had no messages for me either.

Waiting was never my thing.

As Milt joined me, having come to look for me, I called the WITSEC field office in Chicago. They would know what to do.

After a whirlwind of phone calls, I was still alone, and I didn’t think I would be.

It turned out that Sam had to be missing a full twenty-four hours before the police in Phoenix would do anything. The deputies at home in Chicago were not aware that Sam was on anything more frightening than a vacation. Even when I spoke to Deputy White, he said that any communication to them would need to come from Sam. If he called them for help, if he got word to them, they would move. Unfortunately, my concern over him being gone, especially for such a short time, was not enough for them to go on. They would not be riding to my rescue.

“But you said all he had to do was call you,” I reminded him somewhat frantically over the phone.

“Yeah, him,” White told me for what must have been the fifth time at that point. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harcourt, but you saying he’s missing is just not enough of a reason for us to scramble our team. If he were actually in trouble, he’d let us know.”

“How?” I was yelling by that time, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“We have our channels. I assure you, he’s fine.”

I hung up on him so I wouldn’t yell. I knew Sam Kage; he didn’t.

I knew what trouble looked like.

“Jory,” Milt said hesitantly as I paced the lobby at midnight, “do you think maybe you’re overreacting?”

I reminded myself that he didn’t know me or Sam, so ripping his head off was not fair.

“No,” was all I said as I called one of Sam’s oldest friends.

Charles “Chaz” Diaz and Patrick Cantwell had been Sam’s closest buddies from back when he was a detective. They had been friends of his first partner, Dominic Kairov, too. But even before it became evident that he was so much more than simply dirty that going into witness protection was Dominic’s only option, they had both taken Sam’s side in the fallout he’d had with Dominic over Sam being bi and wanting me. When Sam had joined the US Marshals Service, nothing had changed; they all still saw each other constantly.

So, when I was freaking out, it made sense for me to turn to Pat or Chaz. Since Chaz was before Pat in my phone, he was the one who got woken up.

He answered on the fifth ring. “Whoever the fuck this is, it’s two the fuck o’clock in the morning here, just so you fuckin’ know.”

“Sam’s missing,” I said instead of hello.

“Jory?” he said and sounded a little clearer, less gravelly, even that fast.

“I can’t find him, and I’m scared. He was supposed to come see me, but he also came here tracking a witness, and maybe that witness⁠—”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in Arizona.”

“No, I know that. I mean, are you at the hotel or somewhere else?”

“I’m at the hotel, but how did you know Sam and I were in Arizona?”

“Because friends fuckin’ talk, Jory—how the fuck ya think?”

All three of them swore too much—that was what I thought.

“So, you’re at the hotel, and Sam’s missing.”

“Yes.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“Technically, five hours, but I’m not counting the first one.”