Page 119 of Airborne
“Thomas will be in a bad mood before he arrives at the zoo, which helps the confrontation.”
Mitchell huffed. “I’ll just call you Agent Optimism.”
“Perfect. Shall we run this by SAC Bischoff before we confirm with Chad?”
“Are you prepared to offer more reasons why this ludicrous idea will work?”
“Don’t argue with a pregnant woman. You should have learned that after three kids.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY
HEATHER NEARLY FELL ASLEEPduring dinner at her parents. They laughed and cried. Dad claimed she must have gained two pounds. No mention of Chad, and she valued their discretion. All was in place for tomorrow. Now for God to bless their efforts.
Crawling into bed at 8:10p.m., her thoughts drifted to Lynda Durgin. Kirk didn’t have the opportunity to play his violin at the music festival... A thought twisted. Kirk played violin like Oliver Powell. What were the chances Kirk was a part of the same concert?
Heather startled awake. She opened the CD from Lynda and searched for contact information. A phone number was listed for bookings. Grabbing her phone, she pressed in the numbers. A woman answered.
“Lynda?”
“Yes.”
“This is Heather Lawrence. Are you free to talk?”
“Sure. How can I help you?”
“Was your husband scheduled to play in the same concert as Oliver Powell?”
“How did you guess? Did Kirk tell you?”
“No. It occurred to me it was Oliver Powell’s last concert.”
“You must follow him, too. When Kirk received the invitation, he thought he’d have to turn it down. We’ve been supporting his mother in a nursing home, and we simply didn’t have the money for the trip. Then a miracle happened. An anonymous person offered to fully fund his trip including expenses.”
Heather gasped. Kirk’s seat on the plane was directly behind Thomas. “Did your husband meet this person?”
“No. The money was directly deposited into our bank. We have no idea who the benefactor was.”
Heather thanked the woman. This was a vital link, and yet it wasn’t proof. Ten seconds later, she phoned ASAC Mitchell.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
HEATHER SPOTTED THOMASwalking across the zoo’s parking lot to the entrance and waved. He’d maneuvered his red Fiat to take up an additional parking place. If she had a fancy sports car, she might do the same. Agents were in place—a woman pushed a stroller minus a child, a man posed as a photo enthusiast, and two other men would follow Heather and Thomas inside. She wore an ear-wire recording device concealed in her earring.
Thomas approached her dressed in tan cargo shorts, a knit pullover shirt, and hosting the confidence from quarantine days. He grasped her hand and squeezed it. An unholy eeriness about him sent chills up her arms despite the rising temps.
“I have our tickets.” She faked enthusiasm in her voice. “This will be so fun.”
“Of all the things I imagined us to do, a zoo isn’t one of them. Did you catch the heat index for this afternoon?”
“We’ll be finished long before then, unless we’re having way too much fun.”
“Or die of heatstroke.”
Once inside, they walked toward the northwest side of the zoo, where the avian display sounded of birds. She kept her eyes and ears open to the surroundings and the colorful birds and habitat. They moved toward the children’s petting zoo. The ripe odor of animals sent an uneasy sensation to her stomach.
“The kids’ area is my specialty,” he said.
She willed her body to cooperate with the mission. They paid for pellets and laughed at the sheep and goats racing toward them. If she wasn’t convinced Thomas had planned several murders, she’d enjoy herself.
