“I told you, it’s…a favor.”
“A favor,” she repeated, not sounding convinced.
His jaw tensed. “Are you going to give me the information or not?”
“I want to know what you’re getting yourself into. You’re too old to be messing around in anything dangerous.”
“What I’m up to is not your business. If you don’t want to help me, that’s fine. I’ll find someone else who will.”
“Abraham, you know you can tell me anything,” she said.
He tried to rein in his frustration. “I know that. And I realize you’re only trying to do what you think is best for me.” He paused, knowing this was getting him nowhere. “I apologize. I…I shouldn’t have involved you.”
Before she could say anything, he hung up.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Dammit, dammit, dammit.”
A second later Orlando called again. He sent her to voice mail.
It didn’t matter that she was right and he was too old to be messing around. He had no choice. He had involved Eli in the search for information about Tessa and now Eli was in trouble because of that.
The phone vibrated again, and once more he rejected the call.
With his former apprentice no longer an option, who else could he ask? He stared across the room, thinking. The vast majority of his contacts weren’t working anymore. They were either dead or living out what time they had left in peace and quiet. Anyone still in the business would likely barely remember him.
There has to be someone.
His phone beeped. Not a call this time — a text.
Of course it was from Orlando. What was unexpected, though, was the content of the text — an address in Moss Point, Mississippi. As he was reading it, a second message came in.
Be careful
He sent her a reply.
Thank you.
Orlando read the text from Abraham.
“Well?” Quinn asked.
She turned the phone so he could see.
“He’s going there, you know,” he said.
“I know.”
“Maybe this Charles Young guy is just an old friend he’s trying to track down.”
Her look indicated she didn’t believe that for a second. Neither did Quinn, for that matter. If it were that simple, Abraham would have told them what was going on instead of going all George Smiley.
“How involved do you want to get?” he asked.
“It’s Abraham,” she replied.
Of course it was. Abraham had brought her into the business, helped her become who she was. Which meant Quinn owed him a huge debt, too, because if Abraham hadn’t given her a chance, Quinn and Orlando would have never met.
“Do we know anyone in the area?” he asked.
“Winger was working out of New Orleans last I checked,” she said.
“Right. Marguerite Caron might be there, too, if she’s not on a job.”
“I’ll call them. See if one of them is free.”
Quinn put his hand on her back. “See if they’re both free. While you do that, I’ll check on flights for us.”
She kissed him hard. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER 10
By the time Abraham flew out of Tampa, it was already mid-afternoon.
The closest airport to Moss Point, Mississippi, was in Mobile, Alabama, but the earliest flight headed there was booked, so it was faster for him to fly into Pensacola, Florida, and then drive the ninety-five miles in a rental. By the time he turned off I-10, the sun was nearing the horizon, triggering the automatic headlights to flick on.
The road led over a bridge and onto a spit of land that took Abraham into Moss Point. Using the car’s built-in GPS, he navigated through the area until he found himself on a wide residential street lined by trees and brush and well-manicured lawns.
He slowed so he could read the numbers printed on the mailboxes at the end of each driveway. When he reached the one corresponding to the address Orlando had given him, he drove on without looking directly at the house. The most he could gather from the corner of his eye was that it had a brick façade, a For Sale sign stuck in the front yard, and no cars parked in the driveway.
He continued on until he reached the end of the block, where he turned and found a place to park. This being a small town, he knew a stranger would be noticed so he let the evening grow a bit darker before he finally climbed out of his car.
When he reached the intersection, he paused next to some trees and studied the street where the target house was. While there were no streetlights, several of the homes had powerful porch lights and flood lamps mounted to garages that could, if he wasn’t cautious, expose his presence. The right side of the road, the side opposite the house, seemed the darkest, so that was the one he used.
He was only a couple houses shy of being directly across from his target when he heard a car engine start. He dropped to a crouch and shuffled off the shoulder into a clump of bushes. Back the way he’d come, headlight beams fell across the road from one of the driveways. A moment later, a truck rolled into view. It sat at the meeting point of driveway and road for several seconds before it turned onto the street and drove right past him without slowing.
Abraham waited until the taillights disappeared in the distance before he continued on. Once he had an unhindered view of the brick house, he paused again. Though the driveway was still empty, he noted that its garage was large enough to easily accommodate three cars. The house itself was a decent-sized one-story structure. Three bedrooms would be his guess, more if the house extended farther back than he could see. Like the other homes in the neighborhood, this one had no fence, only hedges and trees that seemed to mark the boundary between properties.
He’d expected to see lights in at least some of the windows, but the place was dark. Perhaps the people who had arrived in the ambulance were sticking to the rooms at the back of the house. If they were holding Eli against his will, that was certainly a possibility.
He continued down the edge of the road opposite the house, going a hundred feet past the driveway entrance before deciding it was safe enough to cross to the other side. He then made his way back to the edge of the target property and scanned the tall hedge dividing its lot from the one he was standing in front of. The hedge was fairly thick most of the way back, but not thick enough to prevent him from angling his way between bushes. He checked the neighbor’s house — a few lights on and the telltale flicker of a television.
Dog? he thought.
Probably. But he hadn’t heard any barks yet, so if there was one, hopefully it was inside.
He took a tentative step onto the target property. When no one yelled at him and no dog barked, he took another and another and another. When he was level with the garage, Abraham squeezed slowly through the bushes, a task that was not as easy as it was in theory. He’d put on a little weight since he’d retired, so his stomach rubbed against branches it would have never touched when he was active.
Once he was on the other side, he moved up tight against the garage wall and worked his way to the back corner. He listened before he peered around and found that the rear of the place was as dark as the front.
His confusion growing, he snuck over to the house. No voices, no sounds of plumbing, no television. Nothing.
There were several windows across the back and an elevated wooden deck with a set of French doors leading into the house. In a crouch, he moved over to the nearest window and rose just enough to peek inside, but it was a wasted effort. The window was covered with a shade and he could see nothing.
No shade on the next window, but beyond was only a bare room.