Elusive (On The Run Book #1) by Sara Rosett Page A

It was a life-size Where’s Waldo
puzzle. She began in the corner by the door and worked her way though the room.
The only interesting thing she found was her polka dot flip-flops that she had
lost. One hand on her hip, she surveyed the room and considered what to do
next.
    Look through the kitchen? Her gut
reaction told her that Jack wouldn’t have hidden anything there. It was the
room she was in the most of the time. The island was basically her office, and
since she worked from home it was her default location. There hadn’t been
anything hidden in the ceiling fan in her room either, so it appeared that Jack
avoided areas that they had designated as her space.
    She had looked through his car,
his room, and his computer files. Had Helen checked his e-mail? Zoe
absentmindedly pushed her hair off her forehead as she rewound what Helen said.
No, she’d said she checked his documents. Zoe had only glanced at the recent
e-mail. There might be something in his sent mail folder...
    Fifteen minutes later, she’d
changed into a tank top and silk pajama pants and was lounging in her bed with
Jack’s laptop balanced on her legs. Her hair, damp from her quick shower, was
twisted up in a clip on top of her head. She’d placed the passports and rolls
of money in the envelope with the pictures Connor had sent. It was on the bed
among the scattering of throw pillows.
    As she opened Jack’s computer, she
felt none of the qualms she had earlier. Clearly Jack was involved in something
and, with his disappearance, he’d pulled her into it, too. She opened the
e-mail program. The more she knew, the better she’d be.
    Her burst of energy burned off
quickly, and by the time she’d worked her way through a week’s worth of boring
e-mails about routine GRS business, she could barely keep her eyes open.
Discussions about how much copy paper to buy and whether or not they should
upgrade their printer did not make for thrilling reading.
This is why I don’t want to work in an
office
, she thought to herself as she rubbed her eyes. Across the
room, her phone buzzed. Zoe shifted the computer to the bed and lunged for her
jeans that she’d dropped over the back of a chair in the corner. Both her phone
and Jack’s were in the pockets of her jeans. She grabbed the hem, reeled the
jeans to her, and pulled the ringing phone out before the call could go to voicemail.
    “Zoe Hunter, please,” said a rich,
languid female voice with a trace of a Southern accent.
    “Speaking,” Zoe said. She hadn’t
checked the incoming call and didn’t recognize the voice.
    “This is Eddie with Murano
Glassworks, returning your call. How can I help you?”
    “Oh, right.” Zoe thumped back onto
the bed. She’d forgotten about the call to Eddie. How to break the news? She
fiddled with a strand of her hair that had escaped from the clip. “I called
about Jack...I have some bad news.”
    “What was that? The connection
isn’t good.”
    How had the Highway Patrol said
it? What words had they used? Zoe scrambled to remember, but she couldn’t
recall their exact phrases. Better to just come out with it, she decided. “I
have some news about Jack, Jack Andrews. I’m really sorry to tell you this, but
Jack is missing.”
    The line went silent.
    After a few beats, Zoe asked, “Are
you still there?”
    “Ah, yes, but you must have the
wrong number. I don’t know a Jack...what did you say his last name was?”
    “Andrews.” Maybe Helen was right
and there were two people named Eddie at the business?
    “No. Sorry,” the woman said, her
voice indicating the call was over.
    “Wait! Don’t hang up. Is there
another Eddie there?”
    “No.”
    “But there has to be,” Zoe
insisted. “Jack’s cousin Eddie works at Murano Glassworks.”
    “We have exactly four employees,
including myself and there’s no other Eddie. I’m the owner—I should know.”
    “Then it’s got to be you,” Zoe
said. “Jack talked about his cousin in Vegas, even met with