I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh, you want to drive today?”
“Get in, we’re wasting time,” he demanded.
After rolling my eyes at him, I reached inside my car, grabbed the camera from the backseat, and locked up the car behind me before hopping into the passenger seat of Tucker’s less conspicuous car. Both of our automobiles were station assigned, but mine was newer. Once buckled in, I turned on the radio channel and checked in with our boss.
We arrived at the LB docks in record time. The hair on the back of my neck lifted as we drove in, but I ignored it and encouraged Tucker to drive deeper into the shipyard. Ship workers milled about in the distance as we searched for any sign of our suspect. He pulled the car to a stop, and I wished we had a little more information to go on. This place was fucking huge, and I had no idea where to even start looking.
Glancing at Tucker, I asked, “See anything?”
He breathed out an aggravated huff. “Nothing. Where the hell is he? Did Eddie mention a particular ship, or a dock slip?”
“No. Fuck.” Frustrated, I slammed my hand against the dashboard. Missing the opportunity to gather more evidence on this piece of shit would not go over well with the Feds assigned to monitor the case. “Think we should get out? Move around on foot?”
“Something’s not right,” Tucker said, and I couldn’t disagree. Everything felt wrong. “I think we’re being set up.”
“I think you’re right.”
Tucker and I both glanced up through the windshield, seeing the same thing at the same time. Mickey stood about fifty feet in front of us, his middle finger in the air, while his other hand rested on his hip, where I assumed a gun lay strapped out of view.
“Shit!” Tucker and I both yelled at the same time.
The station radio crackled to life with a warning as gunshots filled the air.
“Dalton, Tucker, get the hell out of there. Do you copy? Get out of there, it’s a setup! Come in, over!”
Panic
Cammie
I arrived at Graziano’s ten minutes early and approached the hostess counter. “Hi. I have reservations at five.”
The hostess smiled as she glanced down at the chart in front of her. “Sure. What’s the name?”
Shifting my purse strap higher on my shoulder, I said, “It should be under Thomas.”
“Ah, yes. Mr. Dalton Thomas, reservations for two. He’s not here yet, but your table is ready if you’d like to follow me.”
I smiled in return and followed as she led me to a table in the back of the room. Although I wanted to know when Dalton was headed my way, I took the seat that didn’t face the entrance of the restaurant, knowing where he would prefer to sit.
“Your waitress will be with you shortly. Is there anything else you need?”
“No, thank you.”
She hurried off as a busboy appeared and poured two glasses of water, then delivered a basket of bread, a bottle of olive oil, and fresh basil. It looked and smelled incredible. I knew that I should have waited for Dalton, but I couldn’t help myself as the scent of freshly baked bread wafted toward me.
A young waiter appeared. “Good evening. My name is Richard and I’ll be your waiter this evening. I see that we’re still waiting for the rest of your party to arrive. So in the meantime, can I start you off with anything to drink?”
“I’ll take a glass of white.”
“We have a pinot grigio from Tuscany that’s crisp and fruity,” he suggested.
“That’s perfect, thank you,” I said, and he scurried off.
My wine arrived, and I contemplated for a moment whether I should wait for Dalton, or order him a glass as well. I did neither and sipped my wine as I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. It was embarrassing to sit alone in a nice restaurant while you waited for someone else to show up. I felt like everyone’s eyes were fixed on me, even though logically, I knew they weren’t. It was in that moment that I realized I hated having my back to people too. But I suffered through it for Dalton.
Glancing down at my phone, which I’d sat on the table next to my silverware, I noted that it was ten after five. He was late, but not late enough for me to be truly worried. LA traffic could be a nightmare, and for all I knew, Dalton was stuck in it.
I stared at my phone every few minutes, typing out text messages to him as I wondered where the heck he was. Richard the waiter continued to cast sad glances my way as the seat reserved for Dalton remained empty.
Cammie: Are you on your way? Our waiter keeps looking at me like I’m a lost puppy. Hurry up! : )
Cammie: Still nothing? All right, well, I’m bound to be good and loosened up by the time you get here. The wine is pretty spectacular.
Cammie: Okay, I’m starting to worry.
Cammie: Dalton! I’m really starting to lose it here.
Panic slowly started to creep in. It was so subtle that I barely even noticed it at first. Minutes turned into half an hour, and he still hadn’t arrived. I pressed the button on my cell phone again, watching as the screen lit up to reveal no new messages, and telling me it was now 5:47.
I finally called Dalton’s phone, fidgeting in my chair as it went straight to voice mail. I sent him another text message as well, just to cover all my bases.
Cammie: Where are you?
By the time an hour had come and gone with no sign of Dalton, I was in full-fledged freak-the-fuck-out mode. I was sweating, my heart pounding so hard it could probably be seen beating through my top. Terror ripped through me, filling my mind with devastating thoughts.