David blinked in the harsh glare of the bright sunshine as the wall of heat extracted beads of sweat from his forehead. He surveyed the street and walked toward the intersection, hoping to find a cab.
A solitary car approached in the distance. It was a taxi, which, based on the abandoned streets, David thought must be lost. A stroke of luck. He plopped his suitcase on the sidewalk and hailed the cab.
The driver slowed, and the passenger window lowered. “Michael Downer? I’ve been booked for a Michael Downer.”
David threw a furtive glance down the street as familiar confidence surged through him. He could be a Michael for the next ten minutes. “Um, yeah, that’s me.” He started to open the door, but the driver had noticed the hesitation, and his eyes narrowed. “Really? You got some ID, pal?”
David’s shoulders slumped. Beaten. The driver reached over and pulled the door shut, and then he drove away.
He trudged down the street, this strange white building at his shoulder the whole way. His suitcase dragged on his arm. His phone reconnected with the world and his thumb searched for Julian’s number. How was he going to describe all this to his boss? Putting it down to stress would make the whole thing worse. But the airline would get the blame, and he would sue the pants off them if he lost his job. His stomach grumbled, desperate for antacid relief.
His phone buzzed. A text message. From Sharon.
When you get back, we need to talk.
David dismissed her text with a flick of his thumb and savored the feeling of power that coursed through him. We’ll talk, all right, and I’ve got a few choice things to say. He smirked at the building that had kept him captive for hours. Deal with baggage. Whatever. I knew I was right. Before he could punch Julian’s number, his phone rang. Sharon. Self-satisfaction flowed through him as he toyed with shunting her to voice mail. But with a sense of superiority, he took the call.
“What?”
Breathy sobbing burst from the phone.
It wasn’t Sharon.
“Daddy, Daddy . . .”
Caitlin.
David shielded his eyes from the burning sun as he looked left and right for a taxi.
“Caitie, what’s going on?” His heart thumped hard in his chest. He clutched at it as he sat on his suitcase, the sweat running in rivulets down his back.
His daughter cried and cried, her words choked back by sobs.
“Caitie, Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here. Just take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.” Where’s Sharon?
Caitlin sniffed back the tears, and each of her tiny breaths sucked the joy from his heart.
“Daddy, Mommy’s just packed all the suitcases, and there’s a van in the driveway.”
David’s heart seemed to sink into his stomach, now stewing in a broiling wash of acid. A hot wind whipped through the chain-link fence and extracted another wave of sweat.
“She says we’re going to stay at Grandma’s for a while. Are we still going to see the princesses?”