“No, she doesn’t. There has to be an explanation. Maybe I gave you the wrong flight number.”
“I’ll make another pass through the airport. Maybe give Ahmed a call.” Ahmed was the closest thing the D.C. lycanthropes had to a leader. She might have found her way to him. I had to hope something like that had happened, that she’d made it to D.C. and just missed Tom somehow.
“I’ll try to find something out on this end.” And what happened if she hadn’t gotten on the plane? Why wouldn’t she have gotten on the plane? “Let me know as soon as you find out anything.”
“Will do.” He clicked off.
There had to be a good explanation. I went home and made some phone calls.
The airline showed that Jenny had been issued a boarding pass, but she hadn’t checked in at boarding. Her seat was empty when the plane took off. Had she maybe changed flights? Changed time or destination? The reservation person said there’d been no change to her ticket after the boarding pass had been issued. It was like she’d disappeared. I talked to airport security. They said they’d check surveillance camera footage, to find out what had happened. If someone had come after her. That was my biggest fear. Somehow, some way, Carl had found out and gotten to her. It wasn’t just possible, it would be easy. But I’d have hoped that Jenny would have enough confidence, enough strength, to scream if he tried to take her.
I called Hardin and tried to report Jenny as missing. But she hadn’t been gone long enough. Unless I had any ideas about where to look for her, or who might have information, the police couldn’t help. “Carl,” I said. “He’ll know something.” I told her how to find him.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, but her tone wasn’t encouraging.
I’d been at it for hours, sitting at the kitchen table with a phone book, trying to think of more people to call. Ben came in, dressed for bed.
“Kitty. Stop. There’s nothing else you can do.”
“There has to be.”
“You can get some sleep.”
“No, she’s out there, she’s in trouble.”
“Maybe—maybe she changed her mind.” I stared at him, bleary-eyed. He sighed. “Maybe she decided not to go to D.C. Maybe she found another way out and thought it was better if no one knew where she was going.”
Maybe. It was possible. “Do you really believe that?”
He gave a fatalistic shrug. “I don’t know. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“You’re not even trying.” I rubbed my forehead. He was right, I should get some sleep. Go to bed at least. Didn’t think I’d be able to sleep.
He touched my shoulder. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but I was so tense, I flinched. He took a step back, hand raised defensively.
“You okay?” he said.
“I just want to keep trying. There has to be something else I can do.”
Ben started to say something, but turned and went back to the room instead.
I joined him an hour or so later, finally putting the phone away, shutting out the lights. Giving up. “Ben?”
He didn’t react. Already asleep, his breathing was deep and steady. I climbed into bed next to him, secretly hoping he would wake up and hold me. But he didn’t.
When I arrived at KNOB the next day, I had a visitor waiting in the lobby for me.
I walked through the door, and she stood up from a lobby chair, crossed her arms, and regarded me with an irritated frown. She wore rumpled slacks and a jacket, with a blouse open at the collar. Well-worn business wear. A real working woman. Her dark hair was pulled into a short ponytail.
“Detective Hardin,” I said, unable to sound happy about seeing her. “Hi.”
“Nice to see you, too,” she said wryly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were back in town?”
“I’ve been trying to keep my head down.”
“Not doing a very good job.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered under my breath. “Had any luck with your robbers?”