Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One), Nathan Hystad [primary phonics books .TXT] 📗

“Maybe you forgot to lock the doors. Tell you what, I’m going to hook you up with one of those smart locks, so you can secure it with your phone,” Marcus told me.

I hardly heard him. There was no chance I’d forgotten to lock my house. I thought about the armed men tracking us in El Mirador and the black car trailing me from my sister’s. Now this. Was someone really after me? All of my dad’s notes and possessions were hidden beneath the floorboards in a secret safe beneath my office desk, and I checked it, ensuring nothing had been taken. I hesitantly returned the gun to its lockbox.

“Rex, are we going to New York?” Marcus asked, already holding my luggage.

“Sure.” There was no sense in worrying the guy. “You’re probably right. I forgot to lock it.”

He grimaced as he carried my bags to the SUV. “What’s in this? You know we’re only going for a couple days, right?”

“My suit jackets weigh more than your Spider-Man underwear, Marcus,” I joked, trying to deflect from the possible invasion. Maybe he was correct, and I was overanalyzing things. I clicked the deadbolt shut, and we were off for the four-hour drive to Manhattan.

“What did you learn about Hardy?” I asked Marcus once I was outside of Boston, heading south.

“I tracked him to an upscale townhouse near the Park. He’s ancient. Like, ninety-two years old.”

“But he’s alive?” We’d been through this earlier in the week, but I liked to comb the details with Marcus to make sure we had everything in a neat row. He knew this about me and had given up arguing the merits of my ways.

“As far as I can tell. No R.O.D. or memorial in the papers.”

“Good. Were you able to make an appointment?” I asked.

Marcus shook his head and flipped open his laptop. It shone brightly against his face. “He doesn’t have a business to call, and there was absolutely no number listed in his name.”

“I was hoping to visit him tonight, but by the time we arrive and check into our hotel, it’s going to be too late, especially for a man that age. We’ll regroup and head over first thing in the morning.” I imagined Brian Hardy would wake up with the crack of dawn, probably reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee and a hodgepodge of medication.

By the time I veered off Henry Hudson Parkway, Marcus had been asleep for a good hour, and I stopped a little too abruptly at a red light, jerking the car to a halt.

Marcus’ eyes sprang open, and he wiped a string of drool from his lips. He peered around slowly. “We almost there?”

“We’ll be at the hotel in five minutes.” The light went green, and I urged the SUV forward, dreading the parking cost alone. I did all right as a professor, but my recent expedition had drained most of my savings. Financially, I wasn’t where I’d wanted to be at this stage of my career, penny-pinching and worrying about paying the bills.

Instead of staying somewhere fancy, I’d opted for a basic room at a hotel near the museum. When the valet took our bags and car, Marcus smiled, inhaling deeply. “I love New York.”

It was dark, but not too late. The sidewalks were still busy, with diners laughing and talking loudly from al fresco restaurants across the street. I did love the energy of this area. A taxi honked, and I glanced up, seeing a dark BMW attempting to change lanes. The windows were tinted, and I tried to get a look at the driver but couldn’t with the streetlight’s reflection off the glass.

“Come on, Rex. Let’s unpack and find something to eat.” Marcus left me on the street, walking past the doorman and into the hotel lobby.

I saw another BMW drive by, a similar model, then another a moment later. “Get it together, Rex,” I whispered to myself.

____________

“Did we have to wake up so early? I thought this was a vacation,” Marcus complained as we walked down Central Park West, a bagel and coffee in our hands. “Speaking of which, when is the last time you took a real vacation?”

“I don’t know. For pleasure?” I asked, making Marcus laugh.

“Yes, for pleasure. You know, hit the beach? Hike to a Vermont lake? Not to mention bringing a woman. Seriously, Rex, you need to get on a dating app before you forget what goes where.”

We sat at a bench on the west end of the museum, and I popped the top off my coffee. It steamed in the cool morning air. It was late in the year, but the city wasn’t showing any signs of snow quite yet. A lot of the stores were adorned with Christmas ornaments, and the museum had decorations draped over ancient trees. Everything was turned off now, as the place wouldn’t be open for another few hours. Marcus held his cup with both hands, trying to get warmth from it. I knew he’d rather have eaten indoors, but he didn’t complain as he started munching his bagel.

“I haven’t seen you making any proposals lately, kid,” I told him.

“Believe me, all the ladies I’ve been seeing aren’t into the long-term kind of thing.” He crumpled up the paper his bagel had been nested in and tossed it perfectly into the center of a cast-iron wastebasket.

A woman strolled by with two dogs, and she was so bundled up from the cold, I couldn’t even see her face. One of the mutts stopped at me, sniffing my leg, and I fed it a piece of my bagel without the woman knowing. Then they were off.

“Any game plan we need to abide by today?” Marcus asked.

I examined the building behind us. It was where Brian Hardy lived. I wore a trench coat, with my finest suit underneath. I had to look a certain part. Even Marcus had a blazer covering a t-shirt, the best I could get him to do