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“Why would she leave?” Max asks, clearly having pieced together this fucking shit show.
“I have no fucking clue.” Jack and Ava approach, and based on their speed, they’ve picked up something is wrong. “The only thing I can figure is…” That damn video. Jack may’ve been right. There might’ve been a fucking hidden message in that video.
“Sage left your house. She got in a cab and left.” I throw the update out there before anyone can ask questions.
Jack pulls a phone out and steps to the side to make a call. Ava’s fingers cover her lips. Does she know something?
One of the other Arrow partners approaches. He’s an Asian guy, medium height, with an athletic build. I remember his name’s Erik, and even though I’ve exchanged texts and had meetings with him regularly, I don’t recall his last name. He’s based in Napa along with Kairi. She couldn’t make it to the funeral. Something about her husband having a virus that’s going around the summer camps.
“When did she leave?” Erik’s question is directed solely at me.
“He said two hours ago.” My phone vibrates with an incoming text. “After she left, he checked the video feed and got the license plate, but the cab company won’t say where she was dropped off.”
“Put the license on the team Slack. We’ll find her.”
CHAPTER 33
Knox
Facial recognition locates her in the gaslight district. In multiple screen shots, she’s looking up at the corners of intersections, as if searching for traffic cameras.
Max drives while I scan the sidewalks with Erik’s update playing on repeat in my head. There are two Glocks in the glove compartment. A pair of binoculars lie on the back seat, alongside a long-range rifle, scope, and ammo.
We’re using the grid search strategy. Methodical. Starting on Fifteenth Street, moving west. The plan is to stay on this side of Harbor Drive because it’s unlikely she’d cross the busy roadway by foot. But if we can’t find her, we’ll cross over. Continue the methodical search to the coastline.
My skin crawls. On edge doesn’t adequately describe the physical reactions. My molars grind and my jaw muscles ache.
What the hell is she doing?
Her sister said they’d get through it together. Jack thinks she’s hoping to get picked up. He asked if I had a tracking device on her. I don’t, but once I find her, she’ll be wearing one.
Jack said it was a shame I didn’t have a device on her, because then we could follow her and find her sister that way. As if I’d ever risk Sage’s life.
On the sidewalk, a tall man jerks and waves his arms. His face contorts, and I’d guess whatever came out of his mouth wasn’t nice. He steps past a petite woman in jeans. Brown hair. Sneakers.
“There! There!” I jump out of the moving car. “Corner of J Street and Third,” I shout, in case Max doesn’t see her, and take off at a run.
She’s staring up at the sky. Or more accurately, at the street signs. Searching for a god damn traffic cam.
“Sage!”
She turns, brown eyes wide, pupils enormous. I’m still in my suit. Didn’t spare the time to change. By the time we landed, we had the general proximity narrowed, and Max and I took off in one of Jack’s spare cars at the helipad.
“Knox?”
“What the hell?” The words are out of my mouth, and my fingers itch to throttle her. The light glimmers over her eyes. A tear falls down one cheek. The effect is one of a wildfire being doused with a helicopter load of water.
“What’re you doing?” My voice is softer, but my skin still itches.
She can’t answer me because I’ve looped an arm around her and pulled her into my chest. With my nose in her hair, I inhale jasmine. It’s the guest room shampoo, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to breathe in a floral scent. My hands rub all over her, searching for injury, but there wouldn’t be injury because she left of her own fucking volition.
I push back, hands on her shoulders. We’re in the middle of the sidewalk in a relatively busy downtown area, and people are dividing around us like we’re a boulder in the middle of the rapids.
There’s no parking, and Max drives by, shouting out the window, “I’ll circle.”
“I can’t go back with you.” Tears dampen both her cheeks. My heart cracks. It’s a visceral sensation, one I’ve never felt before. At least, not for a woman.
“Explain.” My thumb wipes her cheek. I fumble in my suit pocket for a handkerchief. Normally, I’d never have one, but I came from a funeral.
