“You think she’s leaving?”
Tessa’s gaze flicks down and I can see that she’s putting all the parts together in her head, adding up each individual scenario until a scene plays out in her mind.
“No, I think. . .I think someone has her.”
“The letters.” My voice starts off small, child-like in its speculation, but grows into a petrifying scream as the clues piece together. “The fucking letters!”
Tommy and Tessa are very aware of the threats Larsen had been receiving, but like Officer Tawny, neither paid them much attention since I received similar fan mail as a daily occurrence. “We’ll be there in forty-five minutes, Devyn.”
“What if it’s too late?”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to make sure that nothing goes in or comes out of that building.”
Before Larsen, my worst nightmare was never making it back to the top of the game. Never getting a golden statue to add to my mantle of various awards. Never getting to the pinnacle of success in my career.
Now? Now my worst nightmare doesn’t even compare to the horror I’m living through. Larsen is the dream I never gave myself the chance to envision. And just when I had it within reach, someone is trying to take it away.
My knee shakes the entire back seat as it bounces up and down in anticipation, my anxiety at a level it’s never reached before. Fear and elation struggle against each other disputing which emotion will reign supreme.
Off in the distance, I see the hangar surrounded by a sea of police vehicles. The sound of sirens shatters our eardrums as we exit the car, the flashing lights casting red and blue variances on the aluminum siding and ground.
I rush over, but I'm immediately pushed back away from the line of officers. They stand behind their doors with their guns drawn at the front entrance. An older man stands with a bullhorn speaking calmly to whoever is inside the terminal.
My eyes dart around the barren space, the only object for miles in the field is the hangar. I’m looking for anything that can get me closer to her. Even without seeing Larsen, I know that she’s here. Something inside me burns in her company.
Darting to the left, I take note of a small door tucked behind an outgrowing of bushes.
Tommy must be able to sense my plan because he places a strong hand on my shoulder, halting my movements. “Sir, I would advise against that. You go in there and they have to shoot. There’s not much chance of anyone walking away.”
“I can’t just sit back and wait.”
“I know, sir. But it’s going to be better for her.”
Diving my hands into my hair, I look up at the sky, pondering why this is happening to her, to me. As if we haven’t been through enough in our lives.
“Hey, I found a way in.” Tessa chimes in surprising us at her reappearance.
Without a hair out of place or a ragged breath to be had, she doesn’t look like she’s been anywhere. I hadn’t even noticed that she had gone off.
My eyes plead for her to continue.
“On the other side of the building there is another entrance. It looks like a sign, but it actually swings open.”
“Why would they design it that way?”
“Hidden escape? I don’t know, Devyn. I just know it’s there. I was able to open it.”
“Fuck, let’s go.”
The cops pay us no mind as we move to the other side of the building all while Tommy murmurs the entire way about how idiotic we’re being, but by the smile on his face, I can tell that he is secretly enjoying this.
Tessa gets to the door first and starts pulling at the edge then Tommy pushes her aside as he effortlessly slides the door open.
A few cops witness our endeavor and the new opening, then call out to the others that a back way has been found, but it’s all static in my ears as I step inside.
A black sedan sits parked behind a small Cessna, I’ve seen both before. The back doors to the car are open and I can make out Larsen’s limp body lying across the seats.
Just as I’m about to take off in her direction, one of the officers slips by us and rushes toward a man standing by the plane with his phone pressed against his head. He’s hysterically speaking in a language I don’t understand, but as he notices the officers approaching, he tries to make a run for it.