The Blind by Shelley Coriell

Author:Shelley Coriell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2015-07-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Monday, November 2

3:43 p.m.

I need to see Jack.” Evie stood before Claire, who was tucking fat reports into three-ring binders with the EE logo.

“You mean Mr. Elliott?”

“No, I mean Jack. Is he in?” She’d tried his penthouse, but he hadn’t answered. Nor did she spot one of his cars in his private parking space at the Elliott Tower. Carter Vandemere had just phoned Freddy Ortiz, and while they weren’t able to get a trace, they got an important known: The next bomb would go off this Friday. Evie wanted to know if Vandemere had reached out to Jack. She gripped one of the empty binders. Or heaven forbid he’d found Jack.

Claire snapped closed a binder. “No.”

“Do you know when he’ll be in?”

“He’s out for the day.”

“I tried calling, but he didn’t answer.” Which was so un-Jack-like. This investigation had been the focus of his life the past few days. “Do you know where I can reach him?”

“No.”

“Bullshit.” Evie let go of the binder and rolled one shoulder, then another. A tightness had settled in, bunching her muscles. “You know everything about him, including which hand he uses when he pees.”

Claire dropped a report, and papers went flying. “Agent Jimenez!”

Evie squatted to pick up the papers. “Okay, that may be a stretch, but don’t you dare pretend you don’t know if he wears boxers or briefs because I’m sure you’ve either routed his laundry or bought him a pack or two of chonies. So where is he?”

Claire said nothing as she dropped to the floor to pick up the papers, but Evie saw the smile. She also spotted a wide, rippled length of flesh that crept up Claire’s forearm as she reached for papers under a chair. Evie had seen enough victims of bombs to know that was a scar from a third-degree burn, and she wondered about this woman who seemed to want to blend in with the world. Whatever her past, she was loyal to Jack Elliott, and as his executive assistant knew his schedule.

“So where is he?” Evie asked again as she finished picking up the papers.

Claire attempted to straighten the papers, but they remained catawampus. She tapped and tapped and tapped. “I genuinely don’t know. He checked in around two and said he was taking the day off.”

Evie took a deep breath, relief loosening the knots in her shoulders. So he hadn’t just up and disappeared, but something still wasn’t right. “Taking the day off? Are you talking about our Jack?”

Evie started to put the papers in order, but Claire waved her off. “Yes, our Jack, and I can get it from here. I believe you have more important things to do than collate, and as soon as Jack calls in for messages, I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

Evie set the papers on top of Claire’s desk. “Boxers or briefs?”

Claire laughed out loud. “Agent Jimenez! That is hardly an appropriate topic of conversation.”

“Sometimes appropriate is overrated.” Evie spun on her boots. She still needed to find

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