The Eighth Day

Chapter 28

The cabin of the twin turbine jet was off-white with dark mahogany cabinets and siding that stretched the lower half of its length. The beige carpet matched the leather seats, of which there were eight. Emma Tyler sat facing Chad Dodd in the third row. The other seats in the cabin were empty. They were the plane's only passengers.

Emma shifted in her seat. The leather was damp and tacky. Through the rectangular window next to her, tiny pinpoints punctured the blanket of night below and marked the roads and cities like drops of dew glistening on a spider's web. A glow on the eastern horizon foreshadowed the coming of dawn.

"He's still traveling east on I-70," Dodd said, glancing up from his tablet, which displayed the location of Echo-7's GPS tracker on a moving map. "We'll land at Darke County Airport and wait and see. If he comes north, he's headed for Moore City. I have a driver on standby so we get there first. Otherwise, if he stays on I-70, it's either Ohio State or New York. We'll go wheels-up to Columbus and wait for him there."

"You think he'll stop in Moore City?" Emma asked.

Dodd shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. No clue what's going through that dude's head."

His gaze returned to his tablet, but first it drifted south and lingered over her breasts. Probably thought he was being subtle. What an asshole.

She crossed her arms and glowered out the window, imagined pulling her stun gun out and jamming it into his wandering eyes, pictured them bulging in their sockets as his muscles constricted and convulsed. She smiled and leaned back and closed her own eyes.

The jet lurched and shuddered as it passed through a stretch of turbulence, and they began their descent into Darke County Airport. The world slid by below, an elaborate quilt stitched in shades of green, brown, and gray that resolved into fields, fences, parking lots, and roads. The tires barked as they touched down. They taxied off the runway and rolled to a stop adjacent the general aviation hangars. As the engines spooled down, the door to the cockpit opened and the pilot swaggered out, a well-built man with rough-hewn features, like a Renaissance sculpture in a flight suit with fashionably tousled hair. He saw Emma, and his eyes lit up.

"Hope the flight wasn't too rough," he said and flashed a crooked grin.

"Get the door, please?" Emma said.

She followed Dodd down the short flight of narrow stairs to the tarmac. Their driver waited as promised. A black sedan idled alongside the jet, and he stood before it with his arms folded over his massive chest. He had broad shoulders and hands the size of tennis rackets.

Dodd nodded at him, and the driver lumbered toward them.

"Name's Chad Dodd. This is Emma Tyler."

"Jensen," the driver said.

When they shook, his meaty palm swallowed Emma's hand in a limp grip. Normally, anything less than a firm handshake would have pissed her off. When it came from a man, most likely he presumed she was too delicate to handle a real grip and grin. And when it came from a woman, it just propagated the stereotype. But Jensen probably could've broken every one of her phalanges and metacarpals without even trying, so she didn't hold it against him.

Once they completed introductions, Dodd paced away and peered at his tablet. Jensen refolded his arms and stared off into the distance with the stolidity of stone. A crisp breeze stirred Emma's hair.

"He's headed north," Dodd said and turned and strode toward the car. "Moore City it is. Let's roll."

He got in the passenger side, and she sat in the back. Jensen ducked his head and folded himself into the driver's seat. The sedan sagged beneath his weight, and its suspension groaned.

They left Darke County Airport and turned onto a two-lane county road, bouncing along over an uneven blacktop that was all but deserted. Maybe the locals had dreamed of factories, strip malls, and suburbs, but civilization had moved on and left them behind. Amarillo had been pathetic, but it was damn near the epitome of sophistication compared to this miserable expanse of backcountry.

The miles rolled by, and the silence stretched on.

Eventually, a sun-bleached sign on the side of the road came into view and welcomed them to Moore City, the "Biggest Little Town in Ohio." Its anemic supports looked ready to collapse at any moment.

An abrupt spattering of houses gave way to downtown, where a dark and inoperative traffic light hung above them from a frayed wire. Several blocks later, the business district ended with the same precipitous demarcation with which it had begun, replaced by an encroachment of trees and manicured lawns. It reminded Emma of an elaborate movie set rather than a living, breathing city.

"Turn here," Dodd said and pointed, and Jensen angled the sedan down a residential side street. "That's it ahead on the right."

It was a small two-story green structure with dark-brown trim and a covered wooden porch stretching the length of the house. A narrow driveway ended in an attached single-car garage with a dark-brown door. A massive oak tree with branches plush with foliage cast its shadow over the front lawn.

"Be right back." Dodd got out and jogged up the driveway and the porch steps and knocked on the front door. It opened, and he disappeared into the darkness beyond.

Jensen sat with his hands on the wheel at the ten and two o'clock positions and kept his gaze locked ahead. Emma studied the folds in the back of his neck. His misshapen ears reminded her of cauliflower. Left alone in a car with a stranger, most people ran off at the mouth as if possessed by a compulsive need to fill the silence. If she'd been left alone with Dodd, he'd probably take a swing at getting her in the sack. But Jensen said nothing and seemed content to leave the silence empty. She found herself liking him a great deal.

When Dodd returned, he dropped into the passenger seat. "House is secure," he said. "They relocated the tenants until the op is complete. Let's park a couple streets over."

Jensen started the car and pulled away from the curb.

"And then what?" Emma asked.

"Then," Dodd said, "we wait."