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Susan’s voice comes in. “Honey, we promised my parents we’d meet them in an hour. We should get going.”
“Yeah, right.” Zeke sighs. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime. There’s so much I haven’t had a chance to see.”
“Yeah, kid. Come back anytime.”
I release the breath I’m holding as he walks out of the building with an arm around Susan and they get into the older beater Toyota Camry he drove over there. As Zeke said, there’d be no way a regular college kid would have a new car.
Damian and I move to the front of the van and make our way back to the station. “Was that as hard for you as it was for me?” I ask Damian.
“What do you mean?”
“I was on pins and needles until I saw him come through those doors. It’s worse being on this end. The waiting fucking sucks. I have no control over the situation.”
“Get used to it. How do you think I felt while you were undercover with one of the country’s most dangerous gangs? Not just me, but all of us,” Damian says. “Caleb checked and double-checked every message, every phone call, and had round-the-clock surveillance to make sure you had backup at all times. Zeke was glued to his computer. I don’t know if he ever slept. I woke up in the middle of the night checking my phone in case you needed me.”
“I know you all had my back,” I say. “I didn’t understand the emotional turmoil.”
“Now you do. Get used to it. That’s what happens when a team blends like we do. We’re stronger together, but we also have more to lose.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I say as I turn into the drive.
Zeke and Caleb are waiting for us. Susan pours herself a coffee and comes to join us.
“Good work, people,” Caleb says with a smile, looking at the sketch pad before tossing it onto the table to show us.
Both Damian and I look at the sketch pad to see the statue Zeke’s drawn, including the plaque that’s sitting at the base with its title. “Man of Now” is a statue of a male, his face turned to the sky, his eyes closed like he’s trying to soak up the sun. On the gold plaque is the title of the piece, and the number 24.
“It’s the statue?” I ask. “I don’t get it.”
“I’ll bet there’s more to the statue than what you see, and that’s what Tursk was trying to tell Sabrina,” Zeke says. “Next step is a way to inspect it.”
“Your drawing is dead-on, man. I didn’t know you were an artist,” I say to Zeke.
“My mother loves the arts. She took me to museums, art shows, exhibits. It was our thing. She would walk in and fake this haughty tone, saying ‘Life is art.’ My mom’s a character. She still does that.” Zeke laughs.
We’re one step closer, yet it feels like we have miles to go.
FIFTEEN
The Call
SABRINA
Iwas almost sure that Alex was going to follow us to work. I kept looking back for Alex’s car, but he was nowhere to be found. For a while, I was working myself into a panic, but then I noticed another car turning down the same streets. A coincidence, definitely, but I almost freaked out. When the car turned off the street before we got to the clinic, I let out a sigh of relief and was glad that I hadn’t mentioned anything to Chloe and upset her.
We had a very productive day. I’m slowly getting back to my hands-on work with my patients. Chloe was so busy, we hardly had time to eat, but at the end of the day, we both love what we do and where we do it.
As we’re pulling into our street, my cell phone rings, and, not wanting to miss Alex’s call, I pick it up after the first ring.
“Almost home—” I begin, but am stalled when I hear a menacing voice. A voice I’ve heard many times before, and for the last two years, threatening and terrifying the life out of me.
“Home.” He grits out the word like it’s choking him. “You fucking cunt. You think you’re free of me. I’m not done with you yet.”
Chloe swerves to the side of the road, slamming on the brakes.
I can’t breathe. I’m gasping for air, unable to formulate a response. Chloe rips the phone from my shaking hand. She doesn’t need to put it to her ear, because you can hear him screeching on the other end. Chloe grabs her phone and puts it near mine.
Suddenly, my ex stops speaking. I hear the slamming of the receiver of the phone he was using. Cameron’s in prison. I’m supposed to be safe.
