“Do you think she knew she was being followed?”
The man on the other end of the line was his contact deep within the Sentinels’ organization, one of the anonymous members of the elite council who secretly ran the covert group from a discreet distance.
“In a word . . . yes. Bank video footage showed she entered the vault to access a safe-deposit box, but the surveillance team lost her coming out.”
“How is that possible?” The man on the phone asked the same question he had only moments ago.
“Apparently, she had a change of clothes and a wig in that box. She ditched the stuff she had on in a vault trash bin. And the disguise she used was good enough to give our team the slip when she left the bank. She was dressed like an old woman.”
Cross knew that field operatives could be real cagey and downright paranoid. If the hair on their necks got goosed, it wouldn’t matter if they actually saw anyone tailing them. They’d follow their instincts and get lost in a crowd. And they had the training to carry out that slick maneuver easily enough.
“What about her apartment?”
“The surveillance team had someone there, too, but she never showed. We still have it staked out, but I don’t think she’ll go there now.”
“This isn’t good, Cross. What are you doing to rectify the situation?”
“We may have a line on her. When I get something definitive, I’ll call you.”
Cross told the man how his surveillance team had scoured digital camera feeds from all over the city after they’d hacked into the municipal traffic system. They’d picked up Alexa again—once they knew what disguise to look for—and although they hadn’t pinpointed her exact location, they were getting close.
Very close.
“I don’t have to tell you how sensitive our operation is at the moment. Find her, Cross. Do it, now.”
After his call ended, Cross gritted his teeth. He hated losing. And Marlowe had bested him from day one, but with the success of the mission on his shoulders, that had to stop.
Outside New York City
10:40
P.M.
After Alexa felt safe enough, she grabbed a quick bite from a fast-food drive-through and hit a twenty-four-hour pharmacy before she found a place to spend the night. Without prying eyes, she changed her hair color to brown and took a quick shower. After a couple of hours’ sack time, she’d hit the road again. But before that happened, she checked in with Tanya Spencer, her only lifeline.
“Hey, it’s me.” Alexa didn’t say her name. “You got anything new?”
She’d used a prepaid cell, a number that Tanya wouldn’t know, but she figured the analyst would recognize her voice and take everything in stride like the pro she was.
“Yeah, I think I found something.” Tanya dispensed with the usual formalities of asking questions and kept her focus. “But it doesn’t make much sense.”
“What do you mean?” With a towel wrapped around her wet hair, Alexa sat on the corner of her motel bed, a room she’d paid for in cash.
“Someone with access to our internal resources is using satellite time to track a cell-phone GPS signal in Mexico. And as far as I can tell, no one at the Sentinels has an operation in that country. Normally, I wouldn’t make a big deal about this, but since we’re looking for anything out of the ordinary, it piqued my interest.”
“Do you have a name of the owner of the cell, or maybe the coordinates of that GPS signal?” she asked.
“No name, but I do have coordinates.” Tanya gave her a location outside Guadalajara, Mexico. “And I’ve got Seth Harper working this on the QT. With him being located in Chicago, he’s got no one looking over his shoulder to see what he’s up to.”
“Good call. Not many people connected to the Sentinels know Harper, and the guy can keep a secret.” Alexa tightened the towel that she had wrapped around her body. “So what’s near there? Can you tell if the signal is coming from a residence?”
“Did some digging on that. It’s not just a residence, it’s an estate, honey. And the property had a few layers of corporations heaped on top of the name of the real owner. I had to call in a few markers to dig that deep.”
“And? Who’s playing the shell game?”
“Manolo Quintanilla Pérez is the owner of record. He’s the head of a drug cartel, an upstart group that’s trying to make a name. What they lack in longevity, they more than make up for in brutality. A fun bunch.”
“So if you can’t find any record of this op, what makes you think Garrett is involved?” Alexa asked.
“My Logistics contact came up with those AWOL operatives who don’t have a specific assignment. And one name got my interest. Hank Lewis. Besides you, Hank is one of Garrett’s ‘go to’ guys. It’s just a gut feeling, but I think this is the thread of information we’ve been looking for. We may not get anything better, Alexa.”
For the first time since she had learned of Garrett’s disappearance, Alexa felt the pang of regret. Whatever Garrett was involved with, he hadn’t included her. He’d chosen Hank Lewis to confide in and lead the team that would back his play.
Why hadn’t Garrett asked her?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Tanya said after her silence left an awkward wake in the conversation. “And when we find him, you can ask why he was so bullheaded about not making you a part of his team, but right now we’ve got work to do.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Alexa took a deep breath and rubbed her temple. The tension headache that had started earlier in the day had gotten worse. “I’m going to Mexico, Tanya. I don’t think we’ve got another choice.”
“Honey, I knew you’d say that.”
Tanya had already worked out the logistics for her trip to Guadalajara. She’d leave at first light. If Garrett was in Mexico, she would find him.
She had to.
Northern Wisconsin
Jessie gulped down the last dregs of cold coffee from a lidded styrofoam cup and ate what was left of the Cheetos as she drove through Wisconsin. With orange fingertips, she gripped the wheel of her rented Taurus sedan and watched the center stripes roll by under its high beams.
The sun had gone down hours ago, taking with it the last of the scenery worth seeing. Rolling green hills dotted with picturesque dairy farms and placid lakes that mirrored the waning sunset had been replaced by darkness and miles of self-doubt. She had plenty of time to think. In her state of mind, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
She had paid the price for getting a late start on her drive to La Pointe. Thinking of Seth had made the trip easier, but it was hard to ignore the nagging thoughts about her past. She had talked with Seth over breakfast and explained why she’d come to Chicago. And like she had expected, Harper had plenty of questions as they sat at his dining-room table.
“Do you really think this old case might give you a lead on your mother? That’s huge, Jess.” Harper leaned closer, elbows on the table, as he grabbed her hand. “I mean, how does that make you feel?”
Jess shook her head, and said, “I don’t know, exactly. After all this time, a part of me wants to know what happened, but maybe this will make things worse.”
If she had to let go of the only good memory she had—the only shining moment of the woman she believed was her mother—Jessie wasn’t sure she could handle that. Her whole life had been about abuse—what one sick man had done to her and what she had done to herself when she didn’t feel she deserved to be happy. Jessie wanted to believe she had gotten past it, but she knew that wasn’t true.