Away From the Dark (The Light #2)(68)
Micah grabbed my arm and whispered, “Jacob, I-I’m . . .” He didn’t finish. There were no words.
I stood taller. “I’m getting her back. Let’s go, so I can come back. Where is he?”
“In the plane, with Brother Elijah.”
My eyes opened wide. “Is Elijah going to the Northern Light too?”
Micah shrugged. “I don’t know what’s happening, with anything, and I hope you’re right.”
I nodded. His expression told me that he didn’t believe my declaration that I would get Sara back. If I were only Jacob Adams, I wouldn’t believe me either; however, I wasn’t Jacob Adams. I was Agent Jacoby McAlister, and I was f*cking doing this.
Step by step I climbed the stairs, ready to get this show started. Standing at the top of the stairs, with the glare of the sunshine behind me, I was waiting for my eyes to adjust when Father Gabriel spoke.
“We’re not off to a good start.”
It wasn’t enough information. Micah wouldn’t know what he meant, but Elijah, sitting across from Father Gabriel, did, and so did I. I saw Elijah’s dark eyes staring in my direction. No longer did they convey the pity I’d seen at the mansion. Father Gabriel was referring to the promise I’d made standing in front of his desk, the promise to be the best pilot and follower he’d ever had. And instead of doing that, I’d made him wait—something I’d never done before.
Of course I’d never been forced to leave my wife locked in a dungeon either.
Exhaling, I held my hands behind my back and spread my stance. “I apologize, Father. As you’ve assured, I no longer have distractions. My devotion is fully with you and The Light.”
He nodded to me and turned to Elijah. “It seems things are under control. I’ll contact you once we’re at the Northern Light. For every minute my call’s delayed, you know what to do.”
I clenched my teeth, but refrained from speaking.
Elijah looked at his watch. “Father, what time did you plan on making that call?”
A smirk came to Father Gabriel’s lips. “I’d planned on leaving here no later than three-thirty. With that schedule I’d be calling by eight.”
Fucking *!
“Then we’ll stick with the original plan. It’ll be my pleasure,” Elijah replied.
Yeah, so much for the brotherhood of the Assembly.
The next time I saw Elijah, I hoped it would be in a holding cell. Kool-Aid was too damn good for him. Our eyes connected as he stood, and this time he didn’t look away. Once he made his way down the steps, Micah came aboard, lifted the stairs, and locked the cabin door.
The sound reminded me of the lock Richards had secured and momentarily opened a floodgate of thoughts. As I worked to corral them, Micah spoke.
“Father, is there anything you need before we take off?”
“No,” Father Gabriel said, looking at me. “However, I don’t want the curtain closed to the cockpit.”
What the hell did he think I’d do? He’d just threatened my wife in my presence. My main goal was to fly this $30 million tin can as fast as it could go. He’d be back to the Northern Light in time to make that damn call. As Micah and I entered the cockpit, I went for the pilot’s seat, but Micah blocked me. We’d always agreed to switch off responsibilities with each flight. We’d been doing that for years, and he’d piloted us to the Eastern Light, which meant it was now my turn. However, instead of arguing, I nodded, thankful, as Micah spoke wordlessly. His eyes told me that he was upset too, but he’d be able to concentrate, better than I. My mind would be somewhere else.
“As fast as possible,” I whispered.
He nodded.
Once we were airborne and had given our coordinates and plans to the Detroit airport, I settled back. With the open sky and setting sun ahead of us, continually out of reach, I let my mind go somewhere else. It was as Micah had predicted, but it was different. I wasn’t allowing my thoughts to linger in the mansion in Bloomfield Hills. I let them go there only long enough to say a prayer that Sara would make it two more days. Then I switched gears and allowed my mind to focus on the future, one different from the one the man sitting in the cabin of this plane predicted, a future I planned on delivering—sooner rather than later.
With each mile I formulated my plan. Wednesday’s shipment couldn’t be canceled or changed. It had to happen. Too many alarms would sound if everything didn’t go as scheduled. The Light was a too-well-oiled machine. I didn’t mean the religious organization. I meant the large moneymaking enterprise.
That was when I remembered Thomas. I wondered when he was next scheduled to fly to the Northern Light and if anyone had figured out that he was missing. If someone had, would that lead to unwanted attention on the Northern Light? The flight plans I’d been happy he’d made last Friday now had me worried. If Father Gabriel had been notified of his disappearance, I hadn’t been informed, and I doubted Thomas was scheduled to return on the weekend. It would be today or later this week.
I didn’t know whether Father Gabriel’s concern over the stupid envelope was real or not, but either way it needed to be found.
I worked to mentally retrace my steps. The obvious conclusion was that I’d put it in the pocket of my coat; however, Montana wasn’t Alaska. I didn’t remember whether I’d worn a jacket at the Western Light. If I had, that was probably where it was. If I hadn’t and I’d had it in my hand when I boarded the plane, maybe I’d left it in the cockpit. Or I could have taken it with me into the airport in Lone Hawk. Hell, I couldn’t remember. Maybe I’d taken it in the truck I borrowed or left it in the motel room . . .