Page 70 of Saltwater Promises
“This is not good. Lenny’s not good with…you know.”
“Yeah, I know. But now what? I don’t even know where he is. Maybe I don’t want to know what he did. He’s sloppy.”
Mike felt like he was going to be sick. This was a disaster, and it was all his fault. He’d underestimated Lenny. He’d let the idiot out of his sight and now what? He’d run off to kill someone?
It could be anyone, but…what if he had Lynn? What if he’d just made the connection and decided to get back at Mike the only way he knew how?
“You got any beer?” asked Vinnie.
Mike grunted and nodded toward the fridge. “Help yourself.”
Get rid of a body? That meant that Lenny had already… No, it couldn’t be. Mike refused to believe it.
He stood up. “I think I might know where he is. I’m going to go find him.”
“All right, well…hang on. Wait for me.”
Mike shook his head. “No. You stay here in case he comes back.”
“I’m not taking orders from you.”
Mike didn’t have time to deal with Vinnie’s ego. He walked out of the house and didn’t look back. His safe car was hidden on the next block. Vinnie didn’t follow him, which was good, because Mike probably would’ve used the most efficient method of dealing with him – knocking him out.
He started the car and desperately tried to reach Lynn’s phone as he drove. Nothing. Maybe it wasn’t her, he told himself. Maybe it was someone else. It was a possibility. Lenny had a lot of enemies.
But in his gut, he knew.
It was his fault, and he knew it. It repeated in his head over and over. He had to shut it off to focus.
He drove like a maniac, running red lights and speeding all the way to the little Tacoma airport. Mike jumped from the car, leaving it spread across three spots, and stormed into the office.
“FBI! I need a planenow!”
The young guy manning the desk stared at him, blinking. “Do you have a reservation?”
“No. This is an emergency. What do you have?”
The young man stared at him, mouth agape. “Uh…”
Mike let out a sigh and looked out of the window. There was a Piper sitting out near the runway. He could probably hot wire it, but he’d prefer to get the keys.
“That one there. Is that one of yours?”
“I don’t have a plane,” he stammered.
“I mean the flying club. Is it good to fly? Huh? Answer me!”
The kid nodded, quickly jumping from his seat and opening the case where the keys were kept.
“I’ve got the keys but – ”
“Great. The FBI thanks you for your service.” Mike snatched the keys from the case and blasted through the door. As far as he knew, there were no faster planes at his disposal. He’d have to make do with the old machine that had been baking in the sun.
He got to the plane, jumped in, announced his intent to the tower, did the checks, and was off into the air within minutes. He sent messages to Hank and Joe with the coordinates of where the GPS last placed Lenny.
“Lenny requested help in disposing of a body. Last known at this location. I’m flying there now. Send backup.”
He left out any information about the commandeered plane. How long before that kid’s boss showed up and called the police?
