He sat still for that but internally yelled for her to hurry the hell up. Once she was done, she placed her stethoscope back around her neck. “You can leave.”
“Thank you.”
His mother’s displeasure was plain. His dad, standing with his arms folded, was also not pleased. Torr turned to Green. “Any word on Taylor?”
“A bit. After you were brought here and admitted, Ms. Ware’s parents suggested we show his face around to the rental car places at the airport. He was identified as having rented a white SUV yesterday, and they gave us the plate number.”
“What time is it now?”
“Three a.m.”
He did the math in his head. “So, he has maybe a six-hour lead on us.”
She nodded.
He computed further. “If I can’t fly, you can. Taylor is driving. We can get to Alabama around the same time and hopefully find the Vernons.” He prayed Jasmine was holding up. “Okay. Let’s go back to my place so I can get my gear, then head to the airport, gas up the jet, and get this show on the road.”
Rick Ware spoke up. “I’m going with you.”
“Sir—”
“I’m going with you,” he repeated firmly. “You’ve already failed my daughter once. Not happening again.”
“No disrespect, sir, but you’re not a soldier.”
“I was a sergeant in the army before you were born. I’ll put my twenty years of firefights with gang lords and drug lords up against yours with warlords any day of the week.”
Torr silently prayed for strength and patience. He was beating himself up enough over not protecting Jasmine; he didn’t need the extra kick in the chest. However, holding the man’s iron-cold stare, he realized he had two choices. He could either agree to let her father ride along, or risk Ware kicking his ass and being confined to a hospital bed for real for maybe the next ten days. That wouldn’t help Jasmine. “Okay. Be at my place by five or get left behind.”
“Don’t even try it,” Ware growled. “Give me the address.”
Torr complied and watched the big man walk out. Mrs. Ware eyed Torr and said quietly, “Rick and I tossed a coin to see who’d demand to go with you. He won. Bring my baby girl home.”
“I will. I promise.”
She added, “Let me have the plate number of the rental car. I’ll have the Detroit PD send an APB to law enforcement down the I-75 corridor, along with the car’s make and a screenshot of Taylor’s face.”
After Green sent the info to her phone, Ellen Ware turned to Torr’s parents. “I wish we’d met under better circumstances, but it was nice to meet you.”
His mother nodded. “Same here, and thanks for getting word to us about what happened to your daughter and Torr.”
“You’re welcome.” Mrs. Ware made her exit.
The woman who might or might not be singer Terri Swan said, “Find my girl, Torr the Brave.” She followed Ellen Ware out.
Torr knew his parents had a thousand questions that he had no time to answer, so he said, “Mom, Dad, I will talk to you when I get back. I have a lot of feelings for this woman, and who knows? May ask her to marry me. If she’ll have me after this.”
His mother’s eyes widened. She then smiled. “Okay. Go rescue this potential daughter-in-law, and keep yourself safe.”
He gave her a hug before doing the same with his father and brothers. Goodbyes done, he and his crew strode out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A small wooden sign with the words BLACK BASS 5 MILES was nailed to a tree on the edge of the unpaved road Elliot Vernon was driving on. The Caddy’s suspension was taking a beating from all the divots and bouncing, but he held on to the steering wheel firmly and smiled to himself. He’d made it. He had no idea what he’d do once he arrived, but he no longer had the dragon’s breath of fear breathing down his neck. Maybe now he could think clearly, and after a few days’ rest, maybe head west to California. He didn’t know if anyone was really after him, but if they were, he’d probably shaken them off his tail by now.
The Timbuktu book remained an issue. How could he get rid of it without drawing attention to himself? OB, who had ties to a well-known forger of Arabic works in the Detroit area, was supposed to have the original forged, then send the original and the forged copies back to their contact in Toronto. But OB, who’d always considered himself the smartest person in the room, had decided to keep the original and send only the forgeries because he was sure the man wouldn’t be able to tell fake from real. It was a stupid thing to do, and Elliot had told him that. They’d sold fakes before, like a few of the maps he’d provided to Jasmine, and the supposedly authentic African art objects they’d palmed off to wealthy but ignorant midwestern collectors. As he’d said before, he’d needed the money. But trying to run game on an international smuggling ring? OB had gotten in way over his head and paid the ultimate price for his hubris. Elliot didn’t want to follow him to the grave; however, selling the book on the black market would fetch an astronomical price and set him up for the rest of his life—but only if he could figure out how to do it without it costing him his life.
He glanced over at his silent wife and sighed. She was still mad about the phone. He’d offer to buy her a new one once they found a place to stay, but only if she’d agree not to make any calls. He didn’t enjoy being in the doghouse.
“You talking to me today?”
“Yes, but only to say, as soon as we get to civilization, I’m going home. I’ve had enough.”
“Suppose I get you another phone?”
“Don’t need it.” She reached into her well-endowed bosom inside her blue blouse and pulled out a phone. “See?”
His eyes went wide. “Dammit, Loretta! Did you call anybody?”
“No, but I texted Pastor.”
“Give it to me!” He leaned over to grab it, but she backed up against the door to stay out of reach. They spent a few manic moments yelling, slapping hands, and tussling, until Elliot remembered he was supposed to be driving. The Caddy went off the road and into a large tree. The collision caused the airbags to deploy. The alarm wailed.
As they caught their breath and realized they were alive and in one piece, Loretta asked sarcastically, “Well, man with a plan, now what?”
He fought the airbag to get out and opened the door to assess the damage to his beloved Caddy. The sight of the hood hugging the tree’s trunk and the mangled steel made him want to cry. This was not something he’d planned for, and he had no idea what to do.
He glared at his wife, who’d gotten out to see too. “This is your fault.”
“I wasn’t the one driving. I wasn’t the one who decided on this trip to hell. I wasn’t the one who had their hands chopped off for doing whatever they were chopped off for. Not it, my man. This is on you and OB.”
That said, she set her tote’s straps on her shoulder and took off walking.
He gaped at her. “Where are you going?”
“To find some cell service and an Uber. You’re on your own!”
“Loretta! Come back here! Loretta!”
She kept walking.