Free Deceptive by Sara Rosett Page B

And unless she put up a very good front, she’s not any more computer savvy than your average Joe.”
    The Kid’s phone beeped. He studied the screen. “This is it?” he read in a puzzled voice. He looked at Sato. “What does that mean,
this is it?
    “Who’s it from?” Sato asked.
    “Sophie. Do you think...? She’s not...?”
    “You better go find out.”
    The Kid shot him a look of excitement mixed with terror before he shot off around the corner of the house. For a nanosecond, Sato felt a nudge of something almost like longing. He’d never run like that in his life, not even in the last half marathon.
    He gave himself a mental shake. What was he, crazy? He didn’t want to be that tied to another individual, to have his hopes and dreams, his whole life, wrapped up in someone else.
    The Kid reappeared. “You have the keys,” he called as he sprinted toward Sato.
    “I knew there was a reason you got promoted so fast. You’re sharp. Took you less than a minute to figure that out.” Sato tossed the keys to The Kid.
    The Kid made a strangled sound. “Come on, we’ve got to go.”
    “You take the car. I’ll call a friend to pick me up.” The Kid was gone before Sato finished his sentence.
    He walked across the backyard and paused with his hands in his pockets to study the row of hedges against the back fence. Not extravagant, by any means. Extravagant would be a pool or an outdoor kitchen.
    He turned away, making a mental note to drop by again tomorrow, then he pulled out his phone and scrolled through the contact list. Ah, yes, Deborah lived a few blocks away. Maybe she was home...

Chapter Eight
    ––––––––
    Z OE glanced at her watch as they hurried through Charles de Gaulle Airport. “We’re too late.” Their connecting flight through London had a weather delay, putting them an hour behind their scheduled arrival time. “Her flight probably just landed.” Because their flight was international, they’d arrived into Charles de Gaulle, while Anna’s regional flight from Naples was arriving at Paris’s other major airport, Orly. “Do you think Anna’s flight could be delayed, too?”
    “It’s possible, but I don’t think we should count on it,” Jack said, steering their single rolling suitcase through the airport. “I think we better go directly to Gallery Twenty-Seven and hope we can catch her there. Taxi or train?” Jack asked.
    Zoe had spent some of the flight skimming the Paris
Smart Travel
guidebook she’d bought in the DFW airport. She hadn’t copy-edited a Paris or France guidebook, but felt she could find any info they needed. “Train, I think. It’s late in the day and traffic might be bad.”
    Jack nodded and they followed the signs to the train, bought their tickets, and squeezed into one of the cars going into the city. “So the hotel is close to the gallery?” Zoe asked as she turned to the Metro map.
    “Yes. Right across the street. It’s in the Seventh Arrondissement, near the Eiffel Tower.” While Zoe had been buying the guidebook, Jack had used the time at the airport gate to find and book them a hotel, saying he better make the most of the free Wi-Fi in the airport.
    “Okay, Eiffel Tower it is,” Zoe said with a little shiver of excitement. The Eiffel Tower. This wasn’t exactly the way she’d dreamed of touring the City of Light, but she was here, and she was certainly going to take in all of Paris that she could—even a glimpse of Paris was better than no Paris at all. Of course she couldn’t see anything picture-postcard right now—they were whizzing through the suburbs—but they would be in the center of the city soon. “We caught the express, did you notice that?” Zoe said. “That’s good.”
    They were wedged into the center of the train compartment, and Jack looked over his shoulder at her as he asked, “Good, because we’ll get to the gallery faster? Or, good, because we’ll get into Paris faster?”
    Zoe closed the guidebook.