Page 64 of Airborne
“If I haven’t contracted it yet, then I’m good.”
“That’s what I thought.” Tatum coughed. “Be careful.”
Watching Tatum disappear inside a medical helicopter to Jamaica Hospital moved Heather to shed one tear after another. What if she never saw her new friend again?
The young woman who’d embraced God’s call on her life.
The young woman who’d been held hostage on board the virus-ridden plane.
The young woman who’d befriended her.
Heather wrapped her arm around Catherine’s waist, and the two walked inside the building. The older woman sobbed, most likely reliving Roy’s suffering and death.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
AT 6:30P.M.,CHAD RESPONDEDto his doorbell after Rivera had texted of his arrival. The agent held a bag from Whole Foods, a dinner option they’d decided upon in the afternoon—healthy eating. Chad invited the agent to come inside.
Rivera walked to the small kitchen counter and pulled out organic coffee beans from the Whole Foods bag. “First things first. Good coffee makes for good friends. I drank the last of yours earlier today.”
Difficult to befriend a man who investigated him. “Thanks.” Chad ground beans while his mind whirled along with the grinder’s hum. He sympathized with Rivera losing his sister. The agent’s quest to find the guilty person stemmed from personal and professional experience.
Life always tossed in complicated obstacles, and one man’s drive was another man’s incentive to push ahead and solve problems. For Chad, he’d go to his grave blaming himself for Paul’s death.
He poured filtered water into the coffeemaker while tampinghis desire to dive into the obvious. Ridiculous to wait. “What’s the status on my lab?”
“The FBI chose to wait the full twenty-one days.”
“Not exactly what I wanted to hear.” He refused to show the intensity of his fiery emotions. “Yet, I’m not surprised.”
“Which is why I wanted to tell you myself.” Rivera unloaded the food on the table according to the individual orders. “I have hot rolls and butter. Not on the wife’s diet for me, but they are a weakness.”
“They smell good.”
“We got off to a rough start. What do I call you?”
“Chad. Your first name is Javier?”
“Yes. Gets us on a first-name basis.”
“I don’t have a confession or evidence. So wipe a promotion off your radar.” Chad poured coffee and handed a mug to him. “You know where the cream’s kept.”
Javier grabbed half-and-half from the fridge, dumped in a healthy amount, and handed it to Chad. Something they had in common. Reaching into the cabinet, Chad pulled out his two plates and silverware. He preferred a real plate and utensils to Styrofoam and plastic. He looked at the kale salad and grilled chicken breast. Javier had meat loaf and tomato soup.
“I’m starved. No time to eat today,” Javier said.
“Me either.”
Javier crossed himself before grabbing his fork. Another one of those religious fanatics.
After a few minutes of silence, Javier downed his coffee and refilled it. Chad sensed he was ready to discuss something. “Sorry about your lab. Sorry your marriage is ending. Sorry Heather doesn’t support you.”
Chad gripped his cup. “We aren’t discussing my personal life.”
Javier frowned. “All right. What happens to the lab when you leave for Atlanta?”
“You mean if the CDC doesn’t yank the position?” Chad pushed his salad around the plate. “A doctor is interested in managing the day-to-day operations. My assistant’s incredible, but he doesn’t have enough experience. I can oversee operations from Atlanta. The FBI’s investigation may have me flipping burgers.” He remembered a critical detail. He hadn’t arranged for Heather to split his retirement in the settlement. None of Javier’s business.
“What topics aren’t off-limits for you?”
