Page 120 of Wasted
Cillian glanced in the direction Victoria stared.
The silver Mercedes drove in the far right lane of the six-lane freeway.
“Cillian, I know where he’s going.”
“Where?”
The signs posted above the freeway answered his question. The airport exit was one and a half miles ahead.
“Call the lieutenant. Glenn cannot get on a plane.” If he did, he could fly anywhere in the world. And they would never catch him.
Cillian didn’t tell Victoria, but whether the police got there or not, Glenn was going to be stopped.
“Yes, he is now at the airport.” Victoria reminded herself to breathe, pressing the phone to her ear as she spoke with the officer who had said he would direct the squad cars that had been dispatched to apprehend Glenn.
At least Cillian had finally slowed from his death-defying speed on the freeway. Now only two vehicles separated them from Glenn’s silver car as he took the airport roads to the departures area of the airport.
The roads split ahead. The signage labeled one route as Short-Term Parking and the other as Long-Term Parking.
Glenn swung onto the long-term parking road.
“He’s headed for the long-term parking lot.” Victoria reported the update to the officer.
“Got it. We have two squads almost there.” The officer’s tone stayed calm and normal. Almost too cavalier for the circumstances. “I’ll send them to long-term parking.”
“Looks like he’s not planning to come back anytime soon.” Cillian’s remark was laced with a serious tone he hadn’t had before.
She scanned his profile.
A muscle twitched in his jaw.
Her stomach tensed. She ended the call with the police officer, lowering the phone to her lap. She stared at Cillian. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
She started to pull in a relieved breath?—
“If the police get here.”
“Cillian…”
He followed Glenn as the curator drove through the full parking lot, likely trying to find a stall.
“Aren’t we too close?”
“Not so worried about that at this point.” Cillian’s resolve clenched her chest.
Glenn pulled into an open stall, the only one in the near vicinity.
Cillian braked behind him and shoved her car into park. He pulled off his seatbelt and pinned Victoria with a stare so fierce, it almost frightened her. “Tell the cops where we are and stay in the car, no matter what.”
“Cillian, wait for the pol?—”
Her last word was cut off in the slam of the driver’s door behind him.
She rolled down her window to hear. Cold air billowed in, but she barely felt it. Every facet of her focus was riveted on Cillian.
He approached Glenn’s car at the same time the curator emerged from the driver’s side. “Going somewhere, Glenn?”
