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hung up the phone, his frustration level having risen about ten notches.  I got a recording that says I
should try again in a few minutes if I m calling during normal business hours. Very helpful, he said
to Wilkins.  Do we have numbers for either Phelps or Kamin?
 No.
Great. Clearly, that would have to change ASAP.  Let s call the station and have them paged, too.
How nice it would be if we could find somebody who knows something.
 The restaurant is only two miles away, Wilkins said.  Why don t I stay here and keep trying them,
CPD, and Cameron, while you head over and check things out? With your ride, you ll be there and
back in fifteen minutes.
Jack nodded he d been thinking along those same lines. There were plenty of perfectly innocuous
reasons Cameron might not have been answering her phone. But the thought of that one not-so-
innocuous reason got him moving. Fast. He grabbed his keys and shoved them in the back pocket of
his jeans.  Phelps and Kamin said they saw her go into the restaurant, so at least we know that much.
If you get through to the restaurant, confirm that everything s okay with this cop Slonsky s got
watching her, whoever the hell he is, then call me. Most likely, this is all a lot of nothing.
 And if it isn t nothing? Wilkins asked.
Jack yanked open the top right drawer of his desk and pulled out his backup gun, a subcompact
Glock 27. He strapped it into a harness around his ankle.  Then I ll make it nothing, as soon as I get
there.
Because no one messed with his witnesses.
Not even this one.
SIX MINUTES LATER,having raced through the city at vastly illegal speeds only a skilled driver and
badge-carrying FBI agent could pull off without fear of death or being arrested, Jack pulled up at the
One Magnificent Mile building. He left his Triumph parked out front and flashed his badge to the
lobby security guard in order to avoid being towed. After a quick sprint up the escalator, he entered
the marble foyer of Spiaggia restaurant.
The maître d came around the corner, looking harried.  Sorry I hope you haven t been waiting
long. A busier crowd tonight than we had anticipated. Can I help you? While he caught his breath, he
took notice of Jack s jeans and eyed them skeptically.
Jack still had his badge in his hand.  Jack Pallas, FBI. I m looking for one of your guests, Cameron
Lynde. Dark-haired woman, early thirties, about five-three.
The maître d studied his badge.  Andy told me I m not supposed to give that kind of information
out. And he specifically said I m supposed to call him if anyone asks for it tonight.
At least CPD got that right.  I ll tell you what you call him, and while you re doing that, I m going
to have a look around. Without further delay, Jack entered the main dining room and quickly
surveyed his surroundings. The restaurant spanned two levels: the primary dining area, and a lower
level where tables were flanked by impressive floor-to-ceiling windows. Despite the ornate
chandeliers above, the lighting in the restaurant was low presumably to enhance the views of the
city and Lake Michigan and it took him a few moments to scan through the guests on the first level.
Not seeing Cameron, he headed to the balcony railing and looked for her at one of the tables below.
He spotted her at the second table from the left, sitting next to the window. Alone.
For a moment, he had to pause and just . . . look. Because the view he had from the balcony was
stunning.
And he wasn t referring to the lake.
The soft candlelight on the table picked up the gold highlights in her long chestnut brown hair. She
wore a sleeveless black dress that showed off every curve of what Jack supposed he would have to
acknowledge was an incredible body.
She sat at the table, looking out the window next to her. He watched as she took a sip from the
wineglass she held. She looked subdued. She checked her watch, then crossed one leg over the other,
revealing a slit in the dress at her thigh.
Only one wine menu on the table, Jack noted. It didn t take a special agent to figure out what had
happened. Not that he cared or anything, but the infamous Max was kind of a dumbass to leave a girl
like that sitting alone in a restaurant.
His cell phone vibrated in the pocket of his blazer. Jack pulled it out and saw it was Wilkins.
 I just talked to the cop at the restaurant. Name s Andy Zuckerman. He s telling me that Cameron is
fine, Wilkins said.
 I ve got a visual, Jack confirmed.  She seems okay. I ll find out what the problem is with her
phone and get back to you.
He hung up and made his way over to her table.
Ten
CAMERON CHECKED HER watch, wondering what the statute of limitations was before a woman
 clearly dressed for a date sitting alone at a table in one of the most romantic restaurants in the city
began to look wholly pathetic.
She would finish her glass of wine, she told herself. She d treated herself to a 2006 Stags Leap
petite syrah, unwilling to let the evening be a total waste.
Max had stood her up.
Technically, she supposed, he hadn t actually stood her up, because he d texted her oh yes, a text
message, as if he didn t have a moment to spare for a phone call to let her know that he was stuck in
a meeting with a client and wouldn t be able to make it. A lot of help that had been, seeing how she d
already arrived at the restaurant and been seated at the time he sent his message. She d ordered a
drink when the waiter came by her table, hoping to pull off some sort of chic, nonchalant,  Oh no, just
one tonight after a hard day of work, I often unwind alone in five-star restaurants with a richly
aromatic Rhone varietal type vibe. Given the slit in her dress and her knock-out high heels (if she
did say so herself), she doubted anyone, including the waiter, was fooled.
When she hadn t immediately answered Max s text message, wanting to calm down first, he d sent
her another message asking when they could reschedule their date. Again. In response, she d sent a
message saying that she would check her calendar for the month of Probably Never, Buddy and get
back to him. Then, thinking Max might have a thing or two to text in response to that, she d turned
down the ringer on her phone, not wanting to disturb the other restaurant guests with further incoming
message beeps. Frankly, at that point, she didn t want Max bothering her, either.
As Cameron finished her wine, she looked out the window, taking in the view of the lake and
reflecting upon those things a single woman in her thirties tended to think about when sitting alone in a
restaurant. Her best friend was getting married, and she had no one to take to the wedding. No one to
share the moment with, other than Collin, but that was different. It wasn t the biggest deal, she knew
particularly with the much more serious issues she d faced lately but she certainly wouldn t kick up
too much of a fuss if Fate wanted to throw her a bone or two in the man department. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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