Easy (Chicago Blaze 6)

“As long as they’re still in this country,” I say softly.

The lead private investigator Erik hired is very straightforward, and I like that about him. He told me it’s highly unlikely Jenna will allow anyone to hurt Vi, and that they’re probably holed up in a little motel room somewhere avoiding the news coverage.

We still need to do everything possible to find them, he said, because if Jenna manages to get Vi out of the United States, my chances of getting her back drop dramatically.

Erik finishes washing the dishes and helps his mom out to her car. When he comes back into the house, he wraps me in a big hug.

“What can I do?” he asks me.

“You should go for a run.”

He arches a brow, amused. “You trying to get rid of me? Suggesting I’m packing on some pounds?”

I let out a small laugh, appreciating his efforts to lift my mood. “No, but I know you like to get in a run every morning.”

“I thought I might go with Max to hang up flyers in Madison.”

I lean back, putting my palms on his chest and looking up at him. “Why don’t you run first with Max and then go to Madison together? Max has asked me a couple times if you ever run with anyone or if you like to be by yourself. I can tell he wants to go with you, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

At that moment, Erik’s phone rings and he lets go of me to pull his phone out of his pocket.

“Hello?” he answers.

I walk into the bedroom to put away some laundry I folded earlier, giving him privacy for the call. But less than a minute later, Erik’s at the bedroom door.

“Hey, come here,” he says, touching his phone screen.

A black and white video comes up, and I squint to make out the view from behind the counter of a gas station. A person steps into the video frame and I gasp.

“Jenna,” I say, my heart pounding.

Her hair is darker and she’s wearing sunglasses, but it’s definitely my sister.

“Where? Where is she?” I ask Erik frantically.

“That Albuquerque sighting. The PIs went and reviewed the surveillance footage.” He types a text into his phone. “They asked for confirmation it’s her and now they’re going to request the Albuquerque PD help them search for Vi and Jenna in the surrounding areas.”

The fact that the PIs are requesting local police help makes me feel hopeful. “Oh my god, what if this is it? But where was Vi? It looked like Jenna was alone.”

Erik puts his hands on my shoulders. “Give them some time to track her down. Jenna has all the answers we need.”

My hope suddenly feels premature and I can’t stop my eyes from welling with tears. “I want it to be good news, but I feel sick because what if it’s not? I never would’ve thought Jenna was capable of taking Vi like that, and what if she’s capable of even worse? What if she’s using drugs again and—?”

“Hey.” He cups my face in his hands and says, “This is our first real lead in two weeks, Allie. This is good. Try to hang in there while we wait for more news, okay?”

I nod, because, what else can I do.

He pulls me close. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll wait together for an update. In the meantime, we can call people posting flyers and tell them to stop for now, and let Chief Porter know about this.”

“I’ll call the chief,” I say, grateful for the distraction.

Max and Hazel are in the kitchen, both pouring bowls of cereal, when I walk in the room to grab my phone.

“They were spotted in Albuquerque last night,” I tell them.

“New Mexico?” Max’s eyes bulge.

“It was for sure them?” Hazel asks hopefully.

“Yes.”

I don’t mention that it was only Jenna. Hazel doesn’t need to worry about her sister any more than she already is.

“What now?” Max asks.

I push the button to call the chief and say, “Now we keep waiting.”Twenty-TwoAllieThe ESPN SportsCenter commentator’s chipper delivery of the latest sports headlines is the only sound in the house.

Me, Max, Hazel and Erik are in the living room eating the lasagna Kelly made us off of paper plates. I don’t worry about us eating around the kitchen table or not being on our phones during dinner these days.

“Hey Erik, what do you think of Mattis?” Max asks when a clip of an NFL quarterback mouthing off to a reporter is played back.

“Fuckin’ showboater,” Erik says, shaking his head.

He turns to me, wincing, and says, “Sorry.”

I wave a hand. “Language is the last thing I care about right now. Have at it.”

He moves his hand over my knee and continues talking to Max about the quarterback. “The last thing that guy needs to be doing is drawing attention to that ugly-ass face with a handlebar mustache.”