CHAPTER SEVEN
JONAH STOOD ANXIOUSLY OUTSIDE the café, looking at the wrecked bus. How could anyone, Charlotte included, walk away from that accident?
True, stranger things had happened and true, there were survivors of the mishap. But they all suffered injuries, some severe, and not one of them could have made it two feet from the bus under their own power.
Every witness argued vehemently that no one got off the bus and stubbornly reminded him that the doors were pried open by the firefighters. Charlotte could not have escaped the bus through any other exit.
He came back to the unanswered question: What happened to Charlotte?
Damned, if he knew.
Nick walked over to him. "How did you want to handle...uh...the finger?"
"I'll look after it. Thanks, Nick."
"This must be a first for you. It is for me."
"You know what they say. Stick around long enough and you'll see it all."
"Did you tell Isaac yet? I know you wanted to hold off until you had all the facts, but..."
Nick was right. "It's time." Jonah stared up at the amazing midnight-blue sky and wondered how something this horrendous could happen on such a glorious evening.
"I'll get you the finger," Nick said.
Side by side, they walked to the cruiser.
Nick opened the trunk, looked inside and said, "Well, Christ Almighty, where in hell did it disappear to?"
Jonah, who at the time had been attempting yet again to put semblance to the extraordinary, turned his attention to the trunk at the sound of Nick's puzzled voice. "What is it?"
"The finger. It's gone."
"Tell me you’re kidding."
Nick shook his head. "I wish I could."
"Jesus." Jonah's cell signaled a text message. He opened his phone and read the display: I'm ready when you are.
For the second time in as many seconds, Jonah swore. He hated disappointing Olivia. His wife seemed to possess a sense about these matters. Maybe tonight was the night she would become pregnant. Didn't it beat all?
A few hours still remained of this day.
He forced optimistic thoughts.