The realization hit: she knew something.
Cassidy thought of the terrifying flashback, and the realization that she would never heal. I can’t let that happen to Izzy, she thought with desperation. I could go back to the club and find that waitress. Maybe she knew about Izzy, maybe she knew where Saxon might have taken her.
“Oh fuck,” Bruce breathed into the phone.
“What?” Cassidy replied. A bus pulled to the curb half a block ahead of her. Cassidy knew what she had to do.
“Did they see you?” Bruce asked.
“Who? The driver?” Cassidy asked, racing in the direction of the bus.
“The driver, the girl, did either of them see you?” Bruce asked, his voice more urgent now.
“No. I don’t think so,” Cassidy said. “Why?”
“I’m going to have to call you back,” he said, his voice tense.
“What? Why?” she protested.
“I want you to get in a cab and get somewhere safe, okay?”
“Bruce, wait, what’s going on?” The orange turn signal on the bus lit up. Cassidy began to run, her flip flops slapping the pavement.
“Just do it,” he said firmly.
“But what about Izzy?” she asked, arriving at the door of the bus. The driver’s gloved hand gripped the knob that closed the door, which stood open. She frowned down at Cassidy.
“I promise I’ll call you as soon as I can,” Bruce said, and hung up.
Twenty-Five
“Lucky I saw you,” the bus driver said as Cassidy dug her wallet from her backpack and dropped her fare into the collection box.
“Are you heading to downtown?” Cassidy asked.
“Yep,” the woman said as the bus swung into traffic.
Still breathing fast from her spring, Cassidy found a seat in the middle of the empty bus. She kept her eyes glued ahead for signs of the shiny dark car. Were they headed to the club? If so, how was she going to get Izzy out?
And why had Bruce reacted like that?
The bus sped down the darkened street, the trees lining the sidewalks passing by in a blur. The downtown lights of the financial district buildings seemed to brighten with each passing moment. Cassidy did not see the dark car. She thought about what Bruce had said, that Saxon and his crew used the clubs as advertising. Maybe the driver was bringing Izzy to Silver’s to show her off. The thought made her shudder.
They coasted through several green lights in a row, passing City Hall and the Orpheum Theater until McAllister intersected with Market. The bus swung onto the broad boulevard. They were nearing the club. Her stomach lurched upward as she realized what she was about to do.
Her phone rang, and Cassidy pounced. “Okay, what’s going on?” she asked Bruce.
“I still can’t tell you very much, except that you need to back off,” he said, his voice tight.
“Back off?” Cassidy said, frowning, her eyes searching the road ahead of them. “Why?”
Bruce sighed but it was almost a groan. “Let’s just say that plate I ran led to a group of people we’re trying to bring down.”
Cassidy’s eyes went wide. “For what?” she said, keeping her voice down.
“Cassidy,” he warned. “I’ve already said too much. Now will you please back off and let us handle this?”
“Handle this . . . you mean you’re going to find Izzy?”
A pause. “No.”
Every nerve ending in Cassidy’s skin sizzled. “What?” she cried. The bus driver glanced back at her.
“Not right now,” Bruce said quickly. “We need a few days.”
“A few days?” Cassidy replied. “Bruce, you aren’t serious, are you? I saw her being driven off . . . what if she’s being forced to do something she doesn’t want?” A tendril of fear wrapped around her middle and slowly squeezed. “What if they hurt her?”
“We’ll do everything we can,” he said.
Cassidy shuffled her flip flops against the gritty bus floormat. She felt like a teenager getting denied a straightforward request, like borrowing the car. “So whatever cloak and dagger shit you’re playing is more important than saving her?” she hissed, barely able to get the words out, she was so furious.
“It’s not like that and you know it,” he replied quickly. “The team has been building this case for a long time, Cassidy, and we’re just getting deep enough now. Do you know what that means? Once we can nail them, we can help more than just one person. Hundreds, maybe thousands.”
“Izzy,” Cassidy breathed, resting her head in her hand.
“I’ve put in a request for contact with our agent, but it takes time. If we blow his cover, not only will he be dead, we’ll be at ground zero, only it’ll be worse because they’ll know we got to them once so their guard will be up.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Cassidy gasped, blinking again at the road for signs of the dark car. She thought of herself being dragged down Mel’s stairs and the way she’d tried to stab him with the knife she had unfolded from her multi-tool. Then Mel was looking down at her with those compassionate yet fierce eyes while the needle plunged under her skin.
I can’t let that happen to Izzy.
“I promise we’ll do everything we can,” Bruce was saying, but Cassidy wasn’t really listening.
“Now please get to Quinn’s so I can stop worrying about you,” he added.
“I will,” Cassidy replied, her voice sounding far away.
“Okay,” Bruce said, his voice relaxing. “Good.”
Cassidy slipped the phone into her pocket.
She pulled the cord and swung her backpack onto her shoulders, and as the bus coasted to a stop at the curb, Cassidy jumped to her feet and darted down the steps. Back on solid ground, she turned away from the bus, which hissed loudly as it lumbered back onto the road.
She knew she should follow Bruce’s orders and go to Quinn’s. She wanted to go to Quinn’s and put all of this behind her.
