Chapter Four
We pulled into the entrance to the airport — affectionately named after the late Bob Hope — without further incident. I remained silent as Paul guided the car around the perimeter of the parking lots and brought us into one of the long-term areas. No baggage to unload, of course. We simply got out, and he came around and handed me the keys.
“Good car,” he said.
I nodded. For some reason, my throat was a little tight. It was dark outside, but not so dark that I couldn’t see the ding in the rear bumper from my Volvo’s encounter with the Escalade. I didn’t even want to walk around the front to see what breaking through that security gate had done to the bumper and the headlights.
Possibly sensing my mood, Paul didn’t say anything as we walked over to the terminal and then
