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“Is everything okay here?” A little old lady walked in, her cane making a strange thudding sound each time it hit the floor. Seeing Caroline pinned to the wall, the old woman pointed her cane to the man in black. “You leave that poor girl alone, or I’ll whack you.” She brandished her cane. It wasn’t half as threatening as the man in black, but it was better than nothing.
It distracted him long enough for Caroline to shove against him and run.
She ran and ran and ran until she couldn’t run anymore. Her lungs were on fire, and there was little to do but keep running. She paid little attention to where she was going until her weakened legs nearly gave out.
Caroline wasn’t at the airport anymore.
She no longer had her passport or her luggage. All she had was her cell phone.
She took it out and called Joan.
“What’s wrongnow?”
“The man in black followed me to England. He attacked me in the bathroom. I ran, but I don’t know where to go.”
“I’m sending you an address. Go there. Right now.”
Caroline looked down at her phone, and there was indeed an address. She put it into her phone’s GPS and sighed. “It’s a fifteen-minute walk from here. Can you stay on the phone with me until I get there?”
“No,” came Joan’s cold answer. “I have to warn them you’re coming. Be a good girl, and deal with this yourself for fifteen minutes.” The call ended.
Caroline looked down at the black screen with a mix of fear and fury churning in her gut. She would give Joan a piece of her mind just as soon as she got back to the U.S. Maybe she would tell Joan to shove her threats where the sun didn’t shine.
She didn’t need this.
… but she did. She really did.
FOUR
CAROLINE
Never, not even in her wildest dreams, could Caroline have ever thought she would be riding in a private jet. That was a kind of luxury she had never understood.
Yet, here she was on the Blood Moon Agency’s very own plane. As Wilder had explained, this was for her protection. He didn’t want her on a normal commercial flight where she could be an easy target for eight hours in a flying tin can.
Those were Wilder’s words, and though Caroline didn’t like to admit she was afraid, she definitelywas.
She’d be a fool not to sense that something else was happening.
Something entirely more dangerous than she had bargained for when Joan brought her the Vases of Destiny story.
If it weren’t for Joan, Caroline would have continued investigating cold cases and disappearances. This wasn’t her usual type of story, and she was out of her depth.
Caroline had warned Joan that this story would need more time to simmer before it could be attacked, but Joan was adamant that if Caroline wanted to keep her show and listeners, she needed something more. Something with a wide and broader audience.
That Joan had also threatened Caroline’s life … and her brother’s too … was immaterial to the other woman. All Joan wanted was the Vases of Destiny story out in the open.
And that was how Caroline began her journey across Europe, looking for a murderer.
The private jet’s flight attendant doted on Caroline, and every thirty minutes, the beautiful blonde woman came to ask Caroline if she needed anything.
“Perhaps some sparkling water?”
“No, thanks, Carmella,” Caroline said.
Carmella, as her name tag read, smiled and returned to the cockpit with the pilot.
What kind of wealth did Wilder Wolverton have if he had this type of service at his beck and call? And, more to the point, what kind of family were the Wolvertons?
