Page 70 of Jack
“And if he might have picked up someone from the airport.” He got off the lift. “We need to get this to Stein’s hacker friend, Coco. And then we need to start asking—who would want to hurt Penelope?”
The question chilled her through.
He pushed out of the hospital and his phone rang. He pulled it out, answered. “Conrad.” Stopped walking. “What?”
Another pause, and he looked at Harper, held up his hand. “Where are you?”
He started walking—no, jogging—for his Geo. “Okay, stay there. I’m on my way.”
She caught up to him as he unlocked the door. “Where are we going?”
“Sammy’s Bar and Grill, downtown St. Paul.”
“Um, why?” She slid into the car.
He turned the car over, flicked up the heat. “Because Conrad got a voicemail from Penelope. And he needs us to hear it.”
“Can’t he forward it to us?”
“He can. But my cousin Ranger texted me, and he’s set up a meet with this hacker, Coco, in St. Paul.” He turned to her. “Which we need to do ASAP.”
“Why?”
He pulled out. “Conrad thinks she’s in trouble.”
EIGHT
Jack didn’t knowwhat to believe.
“Play it again, Conrad.”
His brother sat across from him in a massive booth tucked into a corner of Sammy’s Bar and Grill, an iconic sports bar dedicated to the fandom of the Minnesota Blue Ox hockey team. Once a shipping warehouse with high steel beams and brick walls, now promo posters, signed photographs of the greats, and framed jerseys plastered the walls. Flatscreens handing from the ceiling and tucked into every corner, played the various games in the league as well as a rerun of last night’s matchup against the Colorado Sting.
The owner, Sam Newton, still working behind the long oak bar, had once played defenseman for the Blue Ox.
Most of the players hung out here after the games, getting another taste of the cheering. Now, Conrad sat, his dark-blond hair still wet, curly on top and around his ears, his beard full and tinged with rust, wearing a black button-down shirt, a pair of black jeans, fresh from a short practice before tonight’s game. He wore his superstar aura easily, as if it fit him like his jersey, like he belonged under the limelight.
No wonder Penelope had reached out to him.
“That’s not the crazy one,” Conrad said. “There’s another.”
Conrad’s phone sat beside a basket of wings, an appetizer Jack had found Conrad eating when he walked in with Harper.
“Just play the first one again. I want to listen for any duress.”
Conrad pushed play again, and Penelope’s voice came through.
“Hey, Conrad, it’s me, Penelope. I’m heading to Minneapolis tomorrow, so if the offer is still good, I’d love to see your game tomorrow night. Maybe catch a bite afterwards. So, call me when you get this. Toods!”
Conrad paused before the next one started.
“That sounds like Pen,” Harper said. “Just . . . you know. Happy.”
“Except clearly she was planning on driving in yesterday, not vanishing on Tuesday night.”
Jack met her eyes. She swallowed, her face a little pale.
He nearly reached out, took her hand under the booth.“I liked what I saw.”No clue why he’d let that tidbit sneak out. And he should probably forget the way she’d looked at him in the car, her beautiful eyes widening, maybe the smallest spark inside them.