Framed by Tracie Peterson

Author:Tracie Peterson [Tracie Peterson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781441235701
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group

Fifteen

It was difficult at best for Jarod to appear calm and reserved as he searched through the corridors of the hotel for some sign of Janice. He tried to picture what might have happened, but the images made him shudder.

He glanced at his watch. It was nearly time for the maritime museum tour. At least that would keep Breman occupied. Jarod slipped down the backstairs, checking for something that might indicate Janice had passed this way. Nothing!

Sweat formed on his brow, and in spite of the warm woolen sweater he’d worn over his shirt, Jarod felt an unsettling chill travel down his spine. He sensed the danger and wondered if his imagination was working overtime, or if indeed something was about to happen. Hadn’t this sixth sense kept him out of trouble before?

Reaching the bottom step, Jarod glanced around the short corridor and found himself with two choices. One door evidently led into a kitchen area, while another door appeared as a complete mystery. Choosing the latter, Jarod found himself outside in a very run-down alley. There was no sign of struggle. No telltale article of clothing or purposefully planted note to let him know she was in trouble.

Slamming his fist against the wall, Jarod went back inside and made his way through the kitchen. His presence brought quite a stir, but no one remembered seeing Janice, and they could offer him little but negative responses to his questions.

He went quickly to the public pay phone in the lobby and dialed a number he’d hoped not to have to use.

“I hear you’re having pleasant weather,” he said when a female voice answered on the other end.

“We’re due to have rain,” the woman replied.

“It rained in America the night before I left.”

“One moment.”

There was a terribly long pause, and Jarod felt a certain amount of relief in knowing that Breman was already on his tour and Gabby was safely staying out of trouble upstairs.

“I understand you’re concerned about the weather,” a male voice suddenly said.

“Yes, and I’d like to meet with someone who might be able to help ease my concerns,” Jarod replied.

“We can certainly accommodate you.”

“When? Where?”

“Patience is a virtue, old man,” the voice answered.

“Then consider me virtueless,” Jarod replied dryly.

“Perhaps you should look for seashells.”

Jarod closed his eyes and pulled from memory the reference to seashells. “I’ll do that right away,” he replied and hung up the phone.

Hurrying outside, he caught a cab. “The Walker Art Gallery,” he commanded.

The drive was fairly short, but even so, it gave Jarod more than enough time to consider a million possibilities. His dislike of these “gruesome little affairs,” as he’d come to call CIA operations, had just grown to overwhelming proportions. Nothing was supposed to go wrong this time, but it had. Now the entire operation might well be blown, not to mention that he might have lost another partner.

He thought of Janice and tried not to let his anger get the best of him. She was more headstrong than her sister, but she was one of the best agents he’d ever worked with.

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