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ne in sight.
Logic told him that the plane was too far away for him to be picking up conversation from inside it. Same with the hangar. Which made the office building itself the most likely location.
Keeping a cautious eye on the aircraft, Donovan inched around the corner to a dusty window and peeked in. One look confirmed the presence of both women. Unwilling to risk being seen himself, he didn’t chance another look. Instead he acted on the assumption they had the baby with them and backed away from the window.
As he slipped around the corner, he spotted an incoming plane low in the sky. The winds aloft carried the sound of it away from the strip. A check of the highway verified the absence of any traffic, coming or going.
The drone of throttled engines reached Donovan as the sleek aircraft neared the end of the landing strip. The wheels touched down with a short, skidding squeal. Then the craft was rolling smoothly while the engines roared in a reverse thrust.
A short distance from him, the door to the office opened. “It was a plane I heard, Sloan,” a woman’s voice declared. “It just landed. I’ll bet they flew in that part we need.” As if drawn by the sight of the aircraft, Tara Calder stepped across the threshold to watch it, a hand lifted to shade her eyes from the sun’s glare. Donovan immediately walked forward. She swung to face him, all stiff and cool with challenge and said, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, Mrs. Calder,” Donovan apologized smoothly. “The name’s Donovan. We met last year. I own The Oasis, just up the road.”
“I remember now.” But there was no friendliness in her look.
“I heard a plane land a little while ago and got curious. What’s going on? Are you planning to open the pit again?” The questions were a means to keep her focus on him, not the plane taxiing closer.
“No, I’m not.”
“That’s a shame. It would have been good for my business if it was up and operating again. The place doesn’t look like it’s suffered much from standing empty.” Feigning a casual interest, he poked his head around to glance inside. “Why, Mrs. Calder! I didn’t realize you were here.”
Sloan looked up with an almost guilty start. That’s when Donavon noticed, in addition to holding a baby, she was trying to place a phone call.
“I see you have that new baby of yours with you.” Even as he spoke he was slipping past Tara into the building, moving with an easy swiftness that prevented Tara from reacting in time to block him. He walked straight to Sloan while she worked feverishly to punch in the last of the numbers. “It’s a little boy, isn’t it?”
Deliberately, he bumped her arm when he reached to push the blanket away from the infant’s face. There was just enough force in it to knock the phone from her hand. When it clattered to the floor, he bent to pick it up.
“That was clumsy of me. I’m sorry.” Donovan held the phone to his ear as if checking to make certain it still worked. “A busy signal,” he lied and clicked it off before handing it back to her. “At least I didn’t break it.” Again he switched his attention to the infant. “He’s a healthy-looking little guy. What’s his name?”
It was Tara who answered. “It’s Jacob,” she asserted, moving to Sloan’s side.
“Jake. That’s a good, strong name for a boy. Is it a family name?” His questions were nothing more than a ploy to distract them from the aircraft outside. Donovan sensed that Sloan had guessed that. Yet she seemed uncertain what to do about it, except to keep darting glances behind him.
“No, it isn’t.” Sloan added nothing more that could invite further conversation.
Undeterred, he directed his question to Tara. “Do you often land here when you fly in?”
“No. We had a small mechanical problem. The crew is taking care of it now.”
“Do you need a ride into town? I’d be happy to give you a lift.
“No, thanks,” Sloan refused, “my husband’s on his way to take us home. Is that what you wanted to know, Mr. Donovan?”
“I don’t know what you mean, but I’m glad to hear you aren’t stranded.” Yet the only thought in his mind was the need to get this vital piece of information to Rutledge. And right away. “Since it seems you have everything under control, I won’t bother you anymore. That’s a good-looking baby you’ve got, Mrs. Calder,” he said and backed to the door.
The muscled bulk of his torso briefly filled the doorframe, blocking the light. Then he was outside and moving away.
“There should be something you can push to call the last number dialed.” Sloan hurriedly shoved the cell phone into Tara’s hand, an urgency in her voice and action.
Tara stared at the foreign object she held. “Who am I trying to call?”
“Trey. Hurry,” Sloan urged and started toward the door to see which way Donovan had gone, not trusting that he had actually left. “Oh my God.” The words came out in a strangled murmur when she saw the familiar sight of Max in his wheelchair. At the moment he was halted in conversation with Donovan. In a burst of near panic, she turned to warn Tara. “It’s Max. He’s here.”
“Max? You mean that was his plane?” Her expression mirrored Sloan’s initial shock “But how did he know we were here?”
“That isn’t important now. Is there another way out?” Sloan looked around with a desperation that had her wrapping both arms around her son, gathering him close.
“There’s a back door, but I wouldn’t bother to try for it,” Tara replied, turning all shrewd and cool. “Even if we did make it out, we’d never get to the plane. That Donovan character would stop us. Obviously, he’s Max’s man here.”
