The Last Deep Breath

17

Three in the morning Pax called. “Sorry about the time, but this was my only chance to phone.”

“I was up.”

“I’ll be back in two weeks. Wait for me.”

Grey explained about Reno, Kendra, L.A., the Hollywood sign, Killing Time, Harvey, the hot tub, Monty, the murdered wife, and John Raymond.

Pax let his silence talk for him, the same way Grey often did, the way they’d been taught to do as kids.

Finally Pax took a breath and said, “You’ve been busy.”

“Running in circles mostly.”

“It’s not easy finding someone who doesn’t want to be found. What’s your next move?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Ellie could be dead, you know. From the knife wound in New York. You never did check the morgue or the hospitals or the police. That should’ve been your first stop. Maybe this Johnny tried to ice her again.”

“She’s not dead,” Grey said.

“She could be,” Pax insisted. “She could’ve died twenty steps outside your front door and you wouldn’t have known it. If it’s true, and she is dead, are you going to be able to handle it?”

The question offended Grey. He wet his lips and his mouth worked for a moment before he found his voice. “You just keep blowing up insurgents, right? Leave family matters to me.”