Page 7 of Operation Rescue
“Not so much on the private side.” Another smile flashed. “My boss flew me down.”
Blaine knew he was gaping now. “Flew? As in…you’ve got a plane, too?”
“We do. Named Wilbur. And perhaps more of interest to you, a sweet little helicopter, too.”
And now laughter got through, because he couldn’t stop it in his wonder at both what Rafe was telling him, and the fact that he was enjoying it so much. “Let me guess, Orville?”
“Nope. Try again.”
It only took him a second. After all, Sikorsky had invented the things, and his name was still carried on many built today. “Igor?”
“Got it,” Rafe said.
“And your boss…he flew you down himself? Just for this?”
“He understands,” was all Rafe said about it. “Now, did you really want to know all that, or were you just dodging the question?”
Blaine sighed audibly. “Yes,” he admitted.
“I’m not asking you to pour your guts out. Treat it like a mission and give me the need to know.”
He sucked in a breath. Then, in the most neutral tone he could manage, he did as Rafe asked. “Ethan fourteen now, and he’s been in a…teenage mood. Mad at her. Hiding things from her. Blaming her for…everything. Started hanging with some shady kids. A week ago he disappeared. Left their house during the night. Took a few things with him so it wasn’t a case of snuck out and didn’t come home. She hasn’t seen or heard from him since. Me, either. He stopped texting, or any contact at all.”
“She report it to the police?” Rafe’s voice was as neutral, and even more businesslike than he’d been able to manage.
“Yes. They’re looking, and she said they told her they were familiar with the group of kids she described.”
“That’s both good and bad.”
He nodded. “That’s how I felt. Last update I had was last night before I headed here—no news.”
“All right. You have a recent photo of him?”
Blaine grimaced. “Most recent I have is from a couple of years ago when he started middle school.”And I had to beg for that.
Rafe merely nodded. “We’ve got someone who can age that up a little, if necessary, but I assume his mother has something more recent?”
“Oh.” He felt stupid now. He was so used to pushing Erin out of his thoughts he hadn’t considered that. “I’m sure she probably does. She used to take pictures of him all the time.”
“Good.” Blaine caught his sideways glance as he said, “But you’ll have to ask for it. Are you on speaking terms?”
“On this we will be,” he said flatly. “Whether she wants it or not.” Rafe seemed about to speak again, then he stopped. Blaine grimaced. “It’s not as bad as that sounded. We’re in touch, it’s just always email or text. We never…talk. That’s how I knew this was bad, when she actually called me. But she’s never tried to come between me and Ethan, stop me from talking to him or seeing him if I can get here on leave. It just gets…difficult.”
“She can’t really stop you, can she? You are paying child support and then some, you said?”
That bit harder than he would have liked. He didn’t want to think that was the only reason Erin was so reasonable about Ethan, but deep down he knew it well could be. Because he was sending her not just the court-ordered amount, but most of the rest of what he could spare. He supposed it was stupid, and more than one person who’d found that out told him he was nuts, but…he loved his son.
And then there was Erin…
Almost exactly on Rafe’s stated twenty minutes, they turned into the drive of what looked like it had once been a typical residence in the tile-and-adobe style of many places close to the famous Mission San Juan Capistrano. Long and low, with arch-topped windows facing the street, the building looked solid and well kept. There was a sturdy gate across the driveway, which Rafe opened with a button above the rearview mirror. In the back, where the driveway curved toward the garage, there was a smaller building in the same style, apparently a guesthouse. As they got there, Blaine could see a tiled courtyard directly behind the main building. In the middle of the courtyard sat a classic-style, three-level fountain, which at the moment was apparently a birdbath for the local avian population. Beyond that was a grassy area shaded by a large tree, which he guessed would probably be a welcome cool spot in a hot California summer.
“Nice,” Blaine said.
Rafe shrugged. “Opened this one about a year and a half ago. Quinn’s thinking about getting out, though. Arizona, maybe. California’s getting a little…cramped.”
“Is that why…his wife’s brother, you said? Is that why he’s there?”
“Partly. He’ll be checking things out after this case. So for now, it’s all ours. Office is up front, and we can crash back here,” Rafe said, nodding toward the second, smaller building.
