I speared the last bite of chicken, swirling it in the herb sauce before popping it into my mouth, the flavors still popping as I chewed slow.
My plate was nearly empty now, just a few grains of rice and a smear of sauce left, and I leaned back in the chair, wiping my hands on a napkin.
Taking my phone out of my pocket, I glanced at the screen—still no word from John.
"Where the hell is he?" I muttered, frowning as I tapped his name and hit call. The line rang… and rang… and rang, a hollow drone in my ear, but no answer, just dead air. I hung up, shaking my head, and checked the time—late afternoon, the clock ticking closer to evening with every second.
"I should meet up with Lyra and check that damn shore near the coconut trees," I said to myself, pushing up from the table, the chair scraping soft against the marble floor.
