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From the corner of his eye, he saw a dark form—a woman, if his eyes weren’t deceiving him—at the window that overlooked the front yard. She was peering through a slit in the blinds.
Wes was about to run completely out of air by the time she said, “They’re gone.”
The arm around his throat relaxed, then let go. He rubbed his Adam’s apple, croaking, “Brynn?”
“It’s me.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m okay.”
She walked toward him, gradually taking shape as she got closer. He could see her a little better when the guy turned on the bathroom light, but he kept the door open only a crack.
For the first time in
years, Wes saw his daughter’s face, and, even as deeply shadowed as it was, he was struck by how beautiful she was. Like her mother. She looked tired and a little worse for wear, although she didn’t appear to be injured.
They’d been out of touch since their last parting, which had been acrimonious. Despite what the deputies had concluded, Wes truly hadn’t expected her to seek him out. But here she was, and he couldn’t think of anything to say.
When it became obvious by the lengthy silence that she couldn’t, either, he said, “So you did come running to Papa.”
“Only because I was out of options.” She was assessing his appearance, as he was hers. “Why penguins?”
He pulled the baggy legs of his pajama bottoms out to his sides as though about to curtsy. “They were markdowns at the store.”
“You really work for Walmart?”
“I go in two hours early tomorrow on account of Black Friday. It’ll be a zoo, but I don’t work the crowd. I spend my shift up in a security booth that’s got all these video screens. On the lookout for shoplifters.”
“You know all their tricks.”
“Most. I’m a bit rusty. Thieves have gone high tech. But so has catching them.”
“Is that why you’ve gone straight? Fear of getting caught never stopped you before.”
“Hmm. Still bitter, I see.”
“Your sense of humor may charm everyone else, but it was lost on me a long time ago,” she said coolly.
Wes harrumphed and turned around to confront the tall form silhouetted by the bathroom light. “You’re—”
“The bush pilot.”
Wes looked him over and snorted with disfavor. “From what I hear, you’re the source of my daughter’s troubles.”
“You’ve got it backwards. Until I flew cargo for her last night, life was good. It’s been fucked up ever since. So, as warm and tender as this family reunion is, can we move on to why we’re here?”
“Which is what?”
“We need a getaway car. What can you steal?”
Chapter 26
11:27 p.m.
The pilot tipped his head toward Wes. “This is the man?”
“Well, he is,” Brynn said.
