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Bennet
Getting pissed off is a waste of energy. It’s not usual. Despite knowing this, as soon as I got into my SUV, I punched the steering wheel hard enough to crack a knuckle. That’s the thing that productivity coaches don’t tell you about getting pissed off… sometimes you just have to break something. The pain was soothing, and I sucked my bloody knuckle as I waited for Diesel to return to the vehicle.
“Damn, we nearly had her,” he said as soon as he opened the door and swung in. “I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have thought she’d have it in her. This escape seems elaborate, like she’d been planning it a while,” Diesel said thoughtfully.
I simply grunted as I pulled the heavy car out into the night traffic, thankful that it was quiet, and called up my sister’s number on the hands free.
“You know what that means, right?” Diesel continued. His tone was unruffled, like we hadn’t just allowed a twenty-one-year-old wannabe murderer to abduct her own minor brother and risk a multi-million-dollar bail contract.
“She was planning it before the attack,” I finished for him, already knowing where he was going. This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. Something in Laura’s life had made her cook up this plan, prepare for it, months ago, maybe even years.
“What is it? I’m on a date,” Emily snapped across the line when it connected. Diesel glared at the console where her voice was coming from and turned his head out the window to stare broodily into the darkness.
“Laura ran and took her brother with her. They’re on train 10, heading north. I need to know the next stop, and how long it’ll take to get there.”
“Ok, wait a minute,” Emily muttered, not arguing now that she knew how serious it was. “I need my laptop. I’ll call you back in ten,” she said and hung up.
“In ten? Glad to see she has her priorities in order,” Diesel muttered.
“It doesn’t matter. I know the right direction to go in.”
Ten minutes later, Emily called. The number 10 stopped at two places in swift secession, stations where changes were made, one station hosting trains that went east to west, and the other north to south. It was impossible to tell which Laura would pick.
“We have to split up. There’s no other way,” Diesel said flatly. Unfortunately, he was right. I dropped him off at the north to south station, with a few minutes to spare before the train came in.
“Keep in contact,” I said, tapping my ear piece. “We need eyes on her before she changes train.”
“Got it.” Diesel slammed the door and jogged inside the station, and I pulled back onto the road.
Ten minutes later, I was in the second station, the car left haphazardly outside, while I paced back and forth, trying to find the best view of the platforms. It was busy, despite the hour, and people milled around. Trains came and went. Laura had chosen well. This was fucking impossible.
“You there?” Diesel spoke in my ear. His voice was harsh, like he’d been running.
“What is it?”
“She got off the train. I saw her and the kid getting off. They have to be getting on one of the south or north lines. The problem is that there’s about three trains leaving at the same time.” I gripped the cold metal of a barrier.
“Find her. You can’t miss her,” I said, speaking more to myself than Diesel. I listened as he searched. His breath came here and there, and snippers of conversation as he passed people on the platform.
A train horn sounded, and Diesel cursed. “I lost her. She got off, I’m sure of that, but I didn’t see which train she got on.”
“Well, we’ll just have to trace all three. Get on the phone with Emily. I want to know where all the departures were going, the next stops, and every stop along the way.”
“Yes, sir.” Diesel disappeared, sounding pissed off. He hated to lose and do a poor job. I got it. I hated it too.
The number 10 pulled into the station, right on time. If she’d still been on it, I would have been perfectly placed to get her. Sighing, and fighting the urge to dent the garbage can beside me, I turned toward the parking lot.
If I hadn’t turned at that exact moment, I wouldn’t have seen him.
Benji. Benjamin Lavin. Stepping off the number 10, holding someone’s hand. Someone with the same build as Laura, but dark hair stuffed under a ball cap.
That little minx. She had gotten off the train, all right, at the previous station, but she had gotten right back on. That was why Diesel hadn’t seen her on any of the others. Admiration swelled in my gut as I watched her. She walked with purpose toward a waiting train. The whistle blew. I didn’t have time to call Emily or warn Diesel. I sprinted toward the train and jumped in just before the doors closed. We lurched out of the station, and a warm feeling of anticipation filled me.
Somewhere on this train was Laura Lavin, and she would not evade me again. Now I had her in my sights.
“Excuse me, where is this train headed?” I asked a lady standing in line for the toilet.
“West,” she muttered without looking up from her phone. When she did, she did a double take and smiled, stuffing her phone away and smoothing her hair back. “Why, you think you go the wrong one?” she asked, her voice full of flirtation now. She had no idea that I only had eyes for one woman on this train and she didn’t even know I was here.
