Page 61 of Bishop's Flight
Bernard’s expression was grim. “And hiding one teenage boy isn’t difficult.”
She nodded. “I’ll call Lee. See if he’s come up with any other ideas or leads. I can catch a taxi back to the house if I need to.”
He pointed to the front. “My driver and I can take you if you prefer.”
The thought of sitting in the back of a car with Bernard, reeking of failure, made her shake her head. “I’ll wait for Carwyn and Miguel.”
“Very well.” Bernard started to leave.
Brigid sipped the glass of water the host had handed to her when she picked out her donut. “Bernard?”
He turned and walked back so he wouldn’t have to yell. “Yes, Miss Connor?”
“What about Preston’s secretary? Did you find her?”
“I have a number and address, but unlike middle-aged video game players, I do not think we’ll get anything from Gayle Pickman in the middle of the night. We’re going to have to wait until tomorrow evening if we want her to cooperate.”
“I get it.” It drove her crazy to be so limited, but she knew it was the reality she had to deal with. “Thanks.”
The man walked out of the coffee shop, and she saw his driver jump out of the car to open the back door. The low-slung sedan pulled away from the entrance to Night Cup, stopped, and immediately backed up.
Bernard’s door flew open and he rushed into the restaurant, not bothering with niceties at the door.
Brigid was already standing, sensing the man’s urgency. “What is it?
“Come with me.” He held out a hand. “We need to go to the hospital right away.”
Twenty
Miguel was an easy companion to work with, and if there wasn’t a missing boy sitting in the front of his mind, Carwyn would have greatly enjoyed chatting with the man more.
“Little League.” Miguel pointed at Carwyn. “I tell you, those parents get crazy. I offered to be the assistant coach—assistant, right? And I thought the head coach was exaggerating.”
“He wasn’t?”
“Nearly had fist fights between innings.” Miguel shook his head. “Unbelievable. I told my wife, ‘Honey, I don’t think this is the right kind of influence on our boy, you know?’ But he loves it. Absolutely addicted to the game.”
“How old is he?”
“Just turned ten.” Miguel was beaming. “And our little one, he’s all about soccer. Of course they couldn’t like the same sport, right?”
“Is there a lot of gear with baseball?” Carwyn knew a little about the sport, but he hadn’t had young children in centuries. “There are helmets and such, yes?”
“Bats, helmets, gloves, uniforms. It’s a lot.”
“At least with soccer the equipment is simple.”
“True, but if I have to run out one more time right before a game starts because my kid forgot his shin guards…” The human shrugged. “I can’t complain. I was a shit when I was a teenager. Nearly got myself killed a few times. My dad wasn’t thinking about bats or shin guards, you know? He was thinking about how to keep me alive.” Miguel fell silent, a shadow falling over his face.
Carwyn could see paternal responsibility written all over the man’s face. “You’re very attached to Lucas.”
“He was like my first kid.” He swallowed hard. “I started guarding him right around the time my oldest was born. They say that a good bodyguard shouldn’t get attached, but—”
“That’s pure shite.” Carwyn shook his head. “You’re spending that much time with anyone, you’re going to have feelings for them. It’s impossible not to. They become like an extension of yourself, and there’s nothing wrong with that. We protect those who are important to us with a ferocity that is instinctive.”
“But I also allowed him freedom I probably shouldn’t have.” Miguel grimaced. “I just can’t think of what I could have done different, you know? Not let the kid use the bathroom on his own? Not let him pick out chips at the corner store?”
“This isn’t your fault.” Carwyn reached over and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Lucas ran away. You weren’t supposed to keep him prisoner. That wasn’t your job. You did the best you could.”
