“We’re going to the airfield.”

“The charter is ready.”

My stomach dropped at the mention of the airfield.

“Which airfield, Nolan?” Sloane asked, her voice dropping an octave.

“The private strip in Blue Bell,” he said.

“The flight is scheduled for two o’clock.”

“Get the rest of the physical files from the office cabinet and meet us there.”

“If we don’t leave today, we’re done.”

The line went dead.

Sloane lowered the phone and looked at me.

“He’s running,” she said.

“He’s leaving Maisie behind.”

“No,” I said, looking out the tinted window as we sped past the brick buildings of the historic district.

“He’s trying to get the cash first.”

“He thinks he can buy his way back to her later.”

“Or he thinks Marjorie’s connections can get her out of the state.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my own phone.

I dialed my father’s direct line.

He answered on the first ring.

“Evelyn,” he said, his deep voice calm and reassuring.

“We have him,” I said.

“He’s heading to the private strip in Blue Bell.”