Page 95 of Final Approach
I’m fine. Talk later.
Kristine raised a brow at her screen and pursed her lips. All righty then. She considered plan B and decided she would go with that. And not feel one iota of guilt. Her father was hiding something, and she needed to know what it was.
She grabbed her keys and texted Nathan.
I’ve got to run a quick errand to Asheville. Text me if you hear from Andrew, please? And any movement at the safe house?
Will do and not yet.
Kristine hurried to her car, climbed in, and made the hour trip to Asheville without incident, even though her nerves were strung tight and she watched her mirrors. But she made it to her father’s house and let herself in using the well-hidden key.
She went straight to the drawer he’d shut so fast yesterday and opened it. Nothing. Well, of course not. She shut the drawer. Next stop, his office. She walked into the back bedroom and noted how neat he kept it. His camera was gone, but if he was on a case, he’d have it with him.
She sat at the desk and opened the first drawer. Bingo.
A lone piece of paper that looked like it had been handled quite a bit had been placed on top. A letter from her mother. Her heart stuttered at the realization.
She snapped a picture of it, then started reading.
Dear Greg,
The fight last night was the last straw. We can’t keep on this way. We’re a terrible example to the kids of what marriage should be—
She stopped and sucked in a trembling breath. No, she didn’t want to read this here. She couldn’t. She’d read it later in the privacy of her home, where she could cry or kick something if she needed to.
And besides, she was still worried about Andrew and wanted to touch base with him.
But first, she made her way to the attic and searched until she found the stack of boxes she was looking for.
So, he hadn’t thrown them out. A wave of anger swept over her. She grabbed the first one and hauled it to her car, then went back for the others. By the time she was done, she was sweaty and breathing hard. The chilly air outside felt good and a sense of peace washed over her. She had what was left of her mother’s things and could go through them at her leisure. Which would be fast, because she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a clue somewhere in there about the person behind the hijacking that had killed her.
Despite her desire to read her mother’s letter, she drove straight to the bookstore and found the Rosses cleaning up. When Mr. Ross spotted her, he set his broom aside and came to greet her. “Kristine, good to see you. How are you?”
“That’s my question for you.” She looked past him to the woman who had to be Mrs. Ross. She was wearing an apron and putting books back on the shelf.
Mr. Ross introduced them and his wife smiled. “We’re okay.Thankful it’s just stuff that was damaged and nothing more than a bump on the head that will heal. Could have been a lot worse.”
“Yes. For sure. Is Andrew here?”
“No, we haven’t seen him this morning. I called him a couple of times and it went straight to voicemail.”
Now that was alarming. “Wait a minute, he’s not here?”
“No. I thought he might show up but figured he caught a case or something that he couldn’t get away from.”
“But he’d call. At least communicate that, right?”
“Well, yes, I would think so.”
Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
ANDREW’S HEAD POUNDEDand his stomach churned. Nausea was never a welcome visitor. He lay still, praying for it to pass. Finally, after several deep breaths, he kept everything in place. Then he opened his eyes and the blurry room came into focus.
This wasnothis hotel room.
And his hands were double zip-tied in front of him.Oh boy. Okay. Think,Ross,think.But his brain was a scrambled mess at the moment. He focused on the zip ties. Breaking two would be a challenge, and to do that he was going to need more strength than he currently had. He struggled to a sitting position and waited once more for the nausea to pass. More deep breathing and finally everything settled.
Two facts. He was in a bedroom on a bed, and his hands were bound in front of him.
