Second Honeymoon

Chapter 57

SARAH WALKED THE long, narrow hallway in the back of Canteena’s and turned the corner, heading toward the ladies’ room. Two steps from the door she stopped and pulled out her cell.

Eric Ladum picked up on the second ring. As usual, he was still in his office at Quantico. The late night cleaning staff called him El Noctámbulo. The night owl.

“Are you in front of your keyboard?” she asked.

“Aren’t I always?”

“I need the current employee list for Wilson Sporting Goods in Chicago cross-checked with the DMV.”

“Chicago DMV or the entire state?”

“All of Illinois,” she said.

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Jared Sullivan.”

“Jared Sullivan with Wilson Sporting Goods,” Eric repeated over the sound of his fingers typing away. “Can he get me a free tennis racket?”

Sarah laughed to herself. “That’s even funnier than you know,” she said. “How much time do you need?”

“How much you got?” he asked.

“Two minutes, tops. I told him I was going to the bathroom.”

“So that’s why women take so long.”

“Yeah, now you guys know what we’re really doing. Running background checks on you,” she said. “Call me back, okay?”

She hung up and stepped over to the corner of the hallway leading back to the bar. She peeked around the edge, catching a quick glimpse of Jared right where she’d left him. That’s a good boy. Have you ordered those shots yet?

Sarah knew damn well the name of the movie with the volleyball called Wilson. Cast Away. Another Tom Hanks film, no less.

Question was, how did a guy who worked for Wilson Sporting Goods not know it? That was like the mayor of Philadelphia not being able to name that boxing movie starring Sylvester Stallone.

If anything, if you worked for the company, you’d probably be sick of talking about Cast Away and that damn volleyball.

Sarah took another peek around the corner, only to have her view blocked by a burly older man with a gray beard coming down the hallway.

She quickly pulled back, watching as he waddled by her on the way to the men’s room. He smelled of tequila and Old Spice cologne, heavy on both.

There was another thing bugging Sarah, something else about Jared. He asked where she was from but not what she did for a living—even after discussing his own job. Maybe it was an oversight.

Or maybe it was because he already knew the answer to the question.

Sarah’s cell, set to vibrate, shook in her hand. Eric was calling back already. What a guy.

“So much for our free tennis rackets,” he said. “No Jared Sullivan with Wilson Sporting Goods.”

“What about for the city?”

“Two Jared Sullivans in Chicago, five for the state. The two in Chicago are forty-six and fifty-eight.”

“Too old,” said Sarah. “Anyone in their late twenties?”

“One from Peoria; he’s twenty-nine. He’s also tall, six foot four. What’s your guy?”

“Sitting down, unfortunately.” She peeked around the corner again to see if she could better size him up. “Oh, shit!”

“What?”

“I’ll call you back!”

Got to run. Literally.