“Mr. Sherman,” Michael said. “We have a partial license plate number.”
“Run it.” I spoke into the phone. “Call Ms. Brooks. Give her the number of the man I had trace your phone. Put all our teams together. I don’t give a fuck what it costs. They need to hack into every damn public and private transportation option leaving from Chicago.”
“I’m on it.”
As I disconnected the call with Connie, Michael answered regarding the license plate, “We’re running it. The last number is obscured. It will take time.”
“I can’t just sit here,” I said.
“Mr. Sherman, where do you want to go?”
I wanted to go to the airport with Julia at my side. I wanted more of her—more, bigger, and better. I wanted what suddenly had an unobtainable price tag. I wanted what all the money or gold couldn’t buy.
Closing my eyes, I tried to think of who else could help. As I opened my eyes, I said, “Fuck, take me to Wade Pharmaceutical’s executive offices.”
I searched for the number Connie gave me yesterday afternoon. It wasn’t on my call log. I’d fucking called from a disposable phone. My text to Connie was quick, telling her I wanted Phillip’s number again.
The number appeared on my screen.
I spoke to the front-seat passengers. “I have Julia’s and Phillip’s cell numbers. Can your company track them?”
“If their phones are on.”
I rattled off both numbers to Michael. Once I was done saying them, I entered Phillip’s number into my phone and hit the call button.
You want to fucking make a deal with the devil, I’m your man.
I was the only one to hear my comment as I waited.
As it had with Julia’s number, the call to Phillip went straight to voicemail. Gritting my teeth, I contemplated leaving a message. Nothing I could or would say would matter. My call from my phone was enough to alert him that I was on to him.
Michael spoke to me in the rearview mirror. “Mr. Sherman, remember the man we sent to the McGrath home to collect her belongings?”
I hadn’t. Now I did. “Yes.”
“He just called. They sent him away without anything.”
What the fuck?
As the car pulled away from the hotel, I called Gregg McGrath.
Julia
A few minutes earlier
The bodyguard and I stepped outside to the waiting black sedan. When we approached the car, he opened the door to the back seat and peered inside. “Mr. Sherman, sorry for the delay.” Taking a step back, my chaperone held the door open for me.
I entered the car, my senses filling with the scent of Van’s cologne.
“Hi,” I grinned as I settled onto the seat beside Van. “I tried to leave my purse.”
“Julia.”
There was a quality to his voice that sounded odd. “Is something wrong? Does it have to do with your call?” As I asked the question, the car moved away from the curb and onto the street. It was then I noticed the driver’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “What happened to Michael?”
Van laid his gloved hand over mine. “I’ve decided to change our plans.”
“Change our plans? I thought we were finally headed home.”