11
“Don’t forget about her phone.” Anna dropped Art off under the portico. The hotel’s gilded doors whooshed open, and he disappeared into the lobby. She circled the parking lot rather than leaving the Hummer unattended. Art shuffled back outside, duffel bags slung over both shoulders.
Estrella bounced beside him, blanket and pillow embroidered with the hotel’s insignia tucked under her arm. She climbed in the back seat, flipped open compartments, and stabbed at the control panel. “Sweet ride. My dad has one just like this.”
Had one just like it.
Art dumped the bags in the back and slid up front. “Here’s her phone.” He passed Anna a black brick, battery, and SIM card. “Where are we headed?” She handed him the sat phone, GPS pulled up on the screen, and his eyes shot to the ceiling.
