know what to do,” Jordan said, but Dan didn’t see how that solved anything.
“Plenty of retro cars around,” Abby said from the backseat. She had decided to point out every single vintage car that drove up next to them or trailed behind. After a dozen or so of these alerts, Dan reminded her that he wasn’t at all sure what make or model they were looking for. Abby was unperturbed. “Not seeing many black motorcycles,” she said.
“Can we turn the AC up?” Dan groused.
Jordan’s phone jingled merrily and he nodded toward Dan. “Check that, will you? I put a notification on new emails in case Maisie Moore gets back to me.”
“Probably just your clan leader again,” Dan muttered, but he picked up the phone anyway.
“ Guild leader, and so what if it was? I am like ten Ultimates away from full one-eighties and that jerk Raptus isn’t going to kill himself—”
“Holy crap,” Dan said, sitting up straighter and silencing Jordan’s rambling. “She wrote back. Hold on, let me see what she has to say.”
Abby crawled up close to read over his shoulder. Her long dark hair brushed his arm as she leaned in.
“‘Thanks for getting back to me so promptly. You can understand that with the personal nature of those letters I would prefer to discuss them face-to-face,’” Dan read. “‘Every once in a while I think about Evie and Marcus and my heart just dies a little. They were two of the best I ever worked with, real journalists, real investigators, the kind you don’t see in the click-bait age. But that’s a discussion for another time.’” Dan took a deep breath. “‘You said you know their kid? That’s amazing. I’d love to meet him. I’m free most of this week for a lunch meeting.’” Dan paused. “You told her about me?”
“Why not? I thought it was a good angle to get her talking.”
“Looks like it worked,” Abby pointed out with a laugh.
“She actually knew them. I mean, it sounds like they were more than coworkers. I wonder if she knows. . . . Gah. I’m getting way ahead of myself,” Dan said, staring down at the email, a little awestruck.
“Someone sounds excited,” Abby said. She poked him lightly in the ear, giggling as he flinched away.
“I guess I am. I’d just like to know what happened to them, why they—” Dan cleared his throat, putting Jordan’s phone back in the cup holder to charge. “Where they went.”
But he had a gut feeling that where was not a place, but a state of being. Seeing his father in the school had all but confirmed their fates.
“Try not to be disappointed if she doesn’t know all that much,” Abby said softly. “It sounds like they haven’t worked together in a very long time. There’s a chance she lost track of them completely.”
Dan nodded, wanting badly to take Abby’s advice but feeling his hopes rise all the same. “And anyway, I’m not just here to meet Maisie Moore. We’re here for Jordan. We’re here to have fun in a whole new city. I’ll have plenty to keep me busy,” he said, forcing a smile. The alert on his phone signaled it was time to take his meds for the day. He fished the orange pill bottle out of his bag and noticed the MARCUS DANIEL CRAWFORD folder next to it.
His hopes had been raised and dashed and then raised again. He hoped this Maisie woman wouldn’t be another dead end.
“Are you sure that’s not the ocean?” Dan pressed his nose flat to the window, staring out at the endless stretch of blue water. If he looked down, it made him dizzy, the glassy surface of the lake right there, just a sheer drop down from the bridge.
“Yup, I’m sure,” Jordan said. “It’s a lake. Wanted to bring you guys in this way even if it adds an extra thirty minutes. It’s way more impressive to take the Pontchartrain Causeway.”
Dan had never seen anything like it in his life, the causeway running over the lake in a clean white curve that subtly rose and rose, dark blue water surrounding them and
“Plenty of retro cars around,” Abby said from the backseat. She had decided to point out every single vintage car that drove up next to them or trailed behind. After a dozen or so of these alerts, Dan reminded her that he wasn’t at all sure what make or model they were looking for. Abby was unperturbed. “Not seeing many black motorcycles,” she said.
“Can we turn the AC up?” Dan groused.
Jordan’s phone jingled merrily and he nodded toward Dan. “Check that, will you? I put a notification on new emails in case Maisie Moore gets back to me.”
“Probably just your clan leader again,” Dan muttered, but he picked up the phone anyway.
“ Guild leader, and so what if it was? I am like ten Ultimates away from full one-eighties and that jerk Raptus isn’t going to kill himself—”
“Holy crap,” Dan said, sitting up straighter and silencing Jordan’s rambling. “She wrote back. Hold on, let me see what she has to say.”
Abby crawled up close to read over his shoulder. Her long dark hair brushed his arm as she leaned in.
“‘Thanks for getting back to me so promptly. You can understand that with the personal nature of those letters I would prefer to discuss them face-to-face,’” Dan read. “‘Every once in a while I think about Evie and Marcus and my heart just dies a little. They were two of the best I ever worked with, real journalists, real investigators, the kind you don’t see in the click-bait age. But that’s a discussion for another time.’” Dan took a deep breath. “‘You said you know their kid? That’s amazing. I’d love to meet him. I’m free most of this week for a lunch meeting.’” Dan paused. “You told her about me?”
“Why not? I thought it was a good angle to get her talking.”
“Looks like it worked,” Abby pointed out with a laugh.
“She actually knew them. I mean, it sounds like they were more than coworkers. I wonder if she knows. . . . Gah. I’m getting way ahead of myself,” Dan said, staring down at the email, a little awestruck.
“Someone sounds excited,” Abby said. She poked him lightly in the ear, giggling as he flinched away.
“I guess I am. I’d just like to know what happened to them, why they—” Dan cleared his throat, putting Jordan’s phone back in the cup holder to charge. “Where they went.”
But he had a gut feeling that where was not a place, but a state of being. Seeing his father in the school had all but confirmed their fates.
“Try not to be disappointed if she doesn’t know all that much,” Abby said softly. “It sounds like they haven’t worked together in a very long time. There’s a chance she lost track of them completely.”
Dan nodded, wanting badly to take Abby’s advice but feeling his hopes rise all the same. “And anyway, I’m not just here to meet Maisie Moore. We’re here for Jordan. We’re here to have fun in a whole new city. I’ll have plenty to keep me busy,” he said, forcing a smile. The alert on his phone signaled it was time to take his meds for the day. He fished the orange pill bottle out of his bag and noticed the MARCUS DANIEL CRAWFORD folder next to it.
His hopes had been raised and dashed and then raised again. He hoped this Maisie woman wouldn’t be another dead end.
“Are you sure that’s not the ocean?” Dan pressed his nose flat to the window, staring out at the endless stretch of blue water. If he looked down, it made him dizzy, the glassy surface of the lake right there, just a sheer drop down from the bridge.
“Yup, I’m sure,” Jordan said. “It’s a lake. Wanted to bring you guys in this way even if it adds an extra thirty minutes. It’s way more impressive to take the Pontchartrain Causeway.”
Dan had never seen anything like it in his life, the causeway running over the lake in a clean white curve that subtly rose and rose, dark blue water surrounding them and
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