she applied a fresh coat of makeup to her bruises and scrubbed her hands. With the strap of her purse again across her neck and shoulders, leaving one hand free, she went straight for the food cart, filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee, grabbed a bagel and tucked it in the outside pocket of her carry-on, and headed for the door.
The early morning sun hadn’t burned through the frosty haze, so it looked as cold as it felt. She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and walked until she found a bench where she could eat her breakfast alone. The chill air kept her from lingering too long. As much as she feared going back to the bus station and running into the fat man, she didn’t want to book another flight or rent a car and drive to California.
If she truly wanted to protect Blue and Grace, she needed to stay as far away from them as she could. The way she saw it, she had only two options. Either hurry to the Amtrak station and see if she could get a seat on the westbound train, or go to the bus station and head anywhere except Fort Collins.
She took the fat man’s phone out of her purse and turned it on, then stuffed it in a pocket. If he called her, perhaps she could trick him into telling his location. She didn’t want to return to the bus station until she knew for sure he’d moved on.
As she began to shiver, she stood and walked. Within a minute or two, the phone beeped. She pulled it out and looked at the display. Seventeen messages. The first three came from her cell phone number. She didn’t recognize the others.
When she reached another bench, she sat down, pushed the hood off her head, and fiddled with the display menu until she retrieved the voice mail. Predictably, the fat guy used 1234 as his password.
As she expected, he was looking for her and he was furious.
Lynnette had only herself to worry about. Still, she couldn’t get Grace off her mind. She considered calling Blue. She could even call Grace’s parents and make certain Grace reported in.
Oh, hell. I don’t know what to do.
She glanced at her watch. Still too early to contact the FBI. She wondered if they had offices in downtown Denver.
She punched a couple of buttons to retrieve the next message, the one that didn’t come from her cell phone.
“Sammy, you were supposed to be in L.A. by now. Where the hell are you? Call me.”
A man’s voice, a man with a Spanish accent. Cuban? Mexican? If the guy on the phone wanted to talk to Sammy, did he have something to do with the laptop case and its contents? Assuming this Sammy was the fat man, was he supposed to deliver the stuff to this guy who left the message? Lynnette listened to the next voice mail.
“Your Denver to L.A. flight was cancelled, you prick. I have to find out on my own that you didn’t get on the next flight? What’s going on? You trying something funny, Sammy?”
The phone rang. The number of the incoming call matched the ones from the man with the accent. Lynnette waited until the ringing stopped, then dialed her own cell phone number, wondering if the fat guy, Sammy, would answer. The phone went directly to voice mail.
“Some guy with an accent is looking for you. He sounds mad.” She stopped, looked at the phone in her hand, and disconnected the call.
What the hell am I doing? Have I lost my mind?
After working her way through the phone’s menu, Lynnette figured out how to set it to vibrate instead of ring when a call came in. Then she listened to more messages, three of them direct threats against Sammy’s life. Too nervous to listen to more, she left the phone on and put it in her jacket pocket. The fat man hadn’t called her since late the night before. He had turned off her phone. Anxious to get his case and in more trouble than Lynnette, he should be trying desperately to get in touch with her.
She pulled the phone out and checked the time of the last message left for Sammy. Nearly two o’clock in the morning. Nothing since. Very odd,
The early morning sun hadn’t burned through the frosty haze, so it looked as cold as it felt. She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and walked until she found a bench where she could eat her breakfast alone. The chill air kept her from lingering too long. As much as she feared going back to the bus station and running into the fat man, she didn’t want to book another flight or rent a car and drive to California.
If she truly wanted to protect Blue and Grace, she needed to stay as far away from them as she could. The way she saw it, she had only two options. Either hurry to the Amtrak station and see if she could get a seat on the westbound train, or go to the bus station and head anywhere except Fort Collins.
She took the fat man’s phone out of her purse and turned it on, then stuffed it in a pocket. If he called her, perhaps she could trick him into telling his location. She didn’t want to return to the bus station until she knew for sure he’d moved on.
As she began to shiver, she stood and walked. Within a minute or two, the phone beeped. She pulled it out and looked at the display. Seventeen messages. The first three came from her cell phone number. She didn’t recognize the others.
When she reached another bench, she sat down, pushed the hood off her head, and fiddled with the display menu until she retrieved the voice mail. Predictably, the fat guy used 1234 as his password.
As she expected, he was looking for her and he was furious.
Lynnette had only herself to worry about. Still, she couldn’t get Grace off her mind. She considered calling Blue. She could even call Grace’s parents and make certain Grace reported in.
Oh, hell. I don’t know what to do.
She glanced at her watch. Still too early to contact the FBI. She wondered if they had offices in downtown Denver.
She punched a couple of buttons to retrieve the next message, the one that didn’t come from her cell phone.
“Sammy, you were supposed to be in L.A. by now. Where the hell are you? Call me.”
A man’s voice, a man with a Spanish accent. Cuban? Mexican? If the guy on the phone wanted to talk to Sammy, did he have something to do with the laptop case and its contents? Assuming this Sammy was the fat man, was he supposed to deliver the stuff to this guy who left the message? Lynnette listened to the next voice mail.
“Your Denver to L.A. flight was cancelled, you prick. I have to find out on my own that you didn’t get on the next flight? What’s going on? You trying something funny, Sammy?”
The phone rang. The number of the incoming call matched the ones from the man with the accent. Lynnette waited until the ringing stopped, then dialed her own cell phone number, wondering if the fat guy, Sammy, would answer. The phone went directly to voice mail.
“Some guy with an accent is looking for you. He sounds mad.” She stopped, looked at the phone in her hand, and disconnected the call.
What the hell am I doing? Have I lost my mind?
After working her way through the phone’s menu, Lynnette figured out how to set it to vibrate instead of ring when a call came in. Then she listened to more messages, three of them direct threats against Sammy’s life. Too nervous to listen to more, she left the phone on and put it in her jacket pocket. The fat man hadn’t called her since late the night before. He had turned off her phone. Anxious to get his case and in more trouble than Lynnette, he should be trying desperately to get in touch with her.
She pulled the phone out and checked the time of the last message left for Sammy. Nearly two o’clock in the morning. Nothing since. Very odd,
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