The line was dead. Even though the silence of empty air was unmistakable, Cole held the phone down so he could get a good look at the screen. “She hung up on me,” he muttered. Rather than try to convince himself the state-of-the-art satellite connection had failed, he put the phone in his pocket and looked for a ride.
The cab at the front of the line was driven by a bald man in his early fifties chomping on a pen cap. “Help ya with that bag?” he grunted as he jumped from the sputtering car.
“As if your tip depended on it,” Cole replied.
The cabbie took that comment as it was intended and started laughing. “What’s in there? A bomb?”
Cole chuckled. “No. Just some—”
“It goes in the trunk.”
The cabbie squinted at the security tags stuck to the bag and shut the trunk tightly.
He lightened up a bit once he was back behind the wheel with his backside pressed securely against his beaded seat cover. “Where you headed?” he asked.
Cole leaned forward and grunted as some of the pain from his ribs and back seeped through his body. After reciting the address he’d been given, he added, “There’s a big tip in store if you get me there real qui—”
The cab lurched forward and squealed away from the front of the line with enough force to push Cole into the trunk. The springs beneath him felt poised to snap through a thin layer of upholstery that felt more like wadded newspapers. Horns blared from his left and the whistle of the cop directing the cabs sounded to his right. Braking and slamming on the gas a few more times amid a flurry of obscenities, the cabbie finally made it to smoother waters.
Glancing into the rearview mirror, he asked, “That address is in Cicero, ain’t it?”
“Sure,” Cole replied, even though he had no clue.
“Your lucky day, my friend. I grew up not too far from there.”
It did Cole plenty of good just to get some concrete under his feet and see some familiar buildings around him. He might not have been able to rattle off business names and addresses, but the city had a feel to it that was just…Chicago. Every time he visited the place, he’d sworn to come back when he had more time to look around. During one of the Digital Dreamers gaming tournaments that were held in Aurora, he’d gone to Chicago and had a hot dog that made him want to pack his things and move there. Right now, the simple fact that Chicago wasn’t Canada was more than enough to give the city a few stars in his personal rating.
Cole leaned back and pulled in a lungful of air that was saturated with too much freshener and a hint of burnt exhaust from the heater. Chicago rolled past his window in an endless stream of lights, dirty buildings, and illuminated billboards. The sun had been setting when his plane was landing, so it was completely dark by now. A commercial for an upcoming festival by Lake Michigan sounded through the cab’s speakers, and the cabbie kept right on chatting throughout the entire duration of the ride.
“You live here or you just visiting?” the cabbie asked as he tapped the brakes.
“Visiting.”
“Well, you should have a great time while you’re in town.” With that, he brought the cab to a stop and pressed a button on his meter. “You want help with that luggage?”
“We’re here already?”
“I told ya I’d get you here fast, didn’t I?”
“I guess I was just enjoying the ride.” Cole got out as the cabbie walked around to the trunk. Although he didn’t know what to expect, he hadn’t been expecting to be taken to a restaurant that was already closed up for the night. “You sure this is the right place?”
Abruptly, the cabbie lost his smirk and rushed over to his side. “That’s the address you gave me!” He closed his eyes, moved his lips as he grumbled to himself, and finally let out a breath. “This is the place,” he said defensively.
Cole looked at what was painted on the white walls near a set of thick, wooden front doors. There had once been a name written over the door, but all that was left was enough lettering to spell out RASA HILL. Even though the numbers beside the door matched the ones in his head, he dug in his pocket for his phone anyway. “Stay here,” he said to the cabbie. “Let me just double-check something.”
He flipped open the satellite phone and started to dial MEG’s number. Before he could finish, the screech of rusted hinges caught his ear. He turned toward that sound and saw the front door of the restaurant being opened by a short brunette.
“No need to waste your minutes,” she said while holding the heavy door open. Her faded jeans, black shirt, and old tennis shoes were obviously more comfortable than fashionable, but didn’t take away from the her trim, athletic figure. The hair pulled behind her head had a tussled look about it even though most of it was corralled by a couple of elastic ties. Despite the downward curve of her lips, her face retained an undeniable attractiveness. Her nose was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken once or twice in the past, but even that didn’t take anything away from her. She looked at him and the cabbie with an air of authority that rolled off her like smoke.
“You must be Cole,” she said.
He nodded a bit too much in a weak attempt to mask the fact that he’d been staring at her. The cabbie, on the other hand, made no such attempt.
“I’m Cole, all right.” Looking to the cabbie, he added, “This must be the right place after all.”
“It sure the hell is,” the cab driver said. “I was just about to ask if I could stay myself.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the brunette said as she stepped forward to hand the cabbie some money. Despite the fact that she was several inches shorter than the older man, she dismissed him as if he was a schoolboy. “Here you go.”
“Thanks a lot, ma’am. I’ll unload this bag and carry it inside for ya.”
“I think we can manage just fine.”
“I lugged this stuff all over the airport. Another few feet won’t hurt,” Cole said as he grabbed his duffel bag from the open trunk and sucked in a pained breath. “Actually, it may hurt just a little.”
The brunette gave him a quick smile, took the duffel in one hand and walked into the restaurant. Cole looked toward the cabbie just in time to see the driver’s door close and the cab drive away.
The brunette waited at the door for him and held it open so Cole could walk inside. “I’m Paige Strobel, by the way. But I guess you already figured that out by now.”
“Hello, Paige. I’m the guy with bruised ribs who dragged his ass across the continent to pay you a visit as a courtesy to your friends.”
Without moving from her spot by the door, Paige added, “And I’m the woman with the dead friends who arranged to have you brought all the way out here.”
“Ouch. Guess I had that coming. Sorry about the attitude. It’s been a long trip.”
“Don’t feel too bad,” she said as she shut and locked the door once he was inside. “I know you’ve been through a lot. I’ve been just settling in here, so there’s a lot on my plate too. Make yourself comfortable, and you’ll just have to excuse the mess.”
The place was a restaurant, but looked as if it had been condemned for a year or more. Some of the tables were in place and most of the lights worked, but there was a layer of dust on just about everything. When he looked a little closer at the floor, Cole could see a path through the dust that led from the front door to the kitchen.
Seeing Paige was about to disappear through the kitchen door, he realized he was being brushed aside just like the cabbie had been a minute ago. More than that, he felt like an idiot for going through so much bullshit to make such a tedious trip in the first place. He rushed to catch up to her, but before he could, the door was slammed almost directly into his face. “Hey!” he shouted as he pushed it open the door and stomped into the next room. “I’ve come a long way and I think I deserve some explanations! Who the hell are you?”