“When?”
“Ten seconds ago. Should I follow?”
“No, the library’s too big. She’s got too much of a head start. She might come out before you find her.”
“But it hasn’t been that long…”
“I said no.”
Franco swore under his breath, eager to get a chance to prove himself.
“How sure are you about her identity?” Wilson said.
“I was about a hundred yards away. Just a possible.”
Another short pause. “The library has only one entrance. Wait outside to make a positive. If it’s her, buzz me twice.” He meant the walkie-talkie’s vibrating ringer; an auditory alarm would have been too suspicious to passersby.
“Then what?”
“Follow her until I join you. We’ll make contact together.” Franco knew better. Wilson wanted to take the glory for himself.
“She looks like a fucking student. I can take her.”
Wilson’s voice hardened. “You have your orders. Understood?”
Franco clenched his teeth. “Yes, sir.”
He replaced the walkie-talkie and shifted the fake HPD badge to his front pocket. As he walked toward the library’s entrance, he deftly unsnapped the restraining clip on his shoulder holster. No way was he going to let Wilson take the credit for this one.
Muted colors and warm lights bathed the library’s information center. The lone staffer at the island reference desk looked up as Erica entered the room and then went back to reading his paperback when she didn’t approach him. Computer terminals lined the room’s walls, and Erica took the nearest one.
She stood as she typed the search parameters into the library’s electronic search system. Several seconds passed as the system processed her request, and then green characters scrolled up the screen. She was startled when she read the four titles listed under the “DA483 H3” call number.
DA483 H3 B6………………………………… Patriotic Lady
DA483 H3 H3………………………………… Emma in Blue
DA483 H3 L63……………………………….. Emma Hamilton
DA483 H3 B6………………………………… Emma Lady Hamilton
She hadn’t really expected to find any books under that call number, but the name Hamilton in the last two titles had to be more than a coincidence. Her stomach started fluttering. Of course, it could still be a prank, with a goofy note left in one of the books, but now she was intensely curious as to what she might find. She headed for the nearest stairwell. The “D” section was located in the basement.
Rather than instilling a sense of wonder as edifices of learning and freedom, libraries always gave Erica the creeps, and this one didn’t change her mind. The tall bookshelves interfered with the fluorescent lighting, which wasn’t especially effective to begin with. Occasionally, bulbs flickered or were burned out, and the whisper of her Keds along the linoleum was the only sound she could hear, making it seem as if she’d entered a dank catacomb. She could almost imagine that she was the first to set eyes on this place in a thousand years.
I can see why this would make a good hiding place for something, Erica thought as she rounded the corner of the stacks where she would find her books. I bet at most two people have been in this stack in the past three months. Including me.
She ran her fingers across the bindings as she walked down the stack. CS. CT. D. DA. She stopped and looked at each shelf, bending over until she found the bottom row. There it was. DA483 H3. There were four books with that call number. Nothing seemed out of place, no notebook amongst them. She reached down and took the first title, quickly flipping through it to see if there was a note contained inside. Nothing. And no notes written on the book itself, either. She replaced it and did the same with the next book.
With no luck on the next two, she picked up the last one, grunting as she did so because it was about as thick as the other three combined. Erica wondered aloud how this much could be written on somebody she’d never heard of. She flipped through it with the same negative results. It was huge though; she could have missed something. Erica grabbed it by the covers and shook it to see if a note would fall out. As she was shaking, she lost her grip on the heavy book, and it tumbled to the floor.
She crouched down to retrieve it, embarrassed that she might have damaged it. It landed on one of the covers, however, and wasn’t harmed. She was about to put it back, somewhat disappointed that she hadn’t found anything, when she noticed a small piece of yellow paper toward the back of the empty slot where she had removed the book. She hadn’t noticed before because the ledge above had blocked her view of the back of the shelf when she was merely bending at the waist and not crouching.
Skeptical, but still curious, Erica reached into the slot and found that the paper was partially covered by the other books labeled “DA483 H3.” She removed them and could now see that they covered a large Post-It note, folded and taped down on the bookshelf. She tugged at it until the tape peeled off the surface.
The note felt unusually heavy, and as she unfolded it, a key fell into her palm. Although she didn’t have one, Erica knew that this was a key to a safe deposit box. Stenciled on it was the number “645.” On the note, only three words were written: First Texas Bank.
No one would hide a key to a safe deposit box in the library. It was absurd. Yet here it was. The only reason would be because its owner had to hide it quickly. She immediately regretted doubting Kevin, afraid now that men really were after him — maybe her too. She was shaking as she walked back toward the stairway.
“Miss!” said a voice from behind her.
She whirled to see a tall, gaunt man in jeans standing at the end of the stack. Her heart raced.
“If you are going to use our facilities,” he said, pointing at the books she had left on the floor, “the least you can do is clean up after yourself.”
Franco felt the vibration signal on the walkie-talkie. He retreated farther behind the pillar from which he had been watching the front entrance of the library and pulled the walkie-talkie from his pocket.
While keeping an eye on the entrance, he said, “This is Franco. Go ahead.”
“It’s Wilson. I just got an update from Hornung. We’ve got more info on the woman.” At the briefing this morning, they’d only had the woman’s picture, and they thought Hamilton would be found shortly. But later they’d found out that Hamilton had gotten away from Lobec and Bern. Franco didn’t know many of the details. The last he’d heard was that they were at a stakeout, ready to use their Barnett and Kaplan identities to try and capture him.
“Her name’s Erica Jensen,” Wilson continued. “She’s a fourth-year med student at South Texas and is probably dating Hamilton.”
“So it’s possible she’s here to study in the library.”
“Correct. Remember. Just wait outside, and don’t let her get out of your sight once you make a positive ID. We already lost our boy once today. She’s probably the best way to find him.”
“Acknowledged.”
Franco replaced the walkie-talkie. Just as he did so, the front door of the library opened, and a woman burst through, out of breath. She was dark-haired, approximately five foot eight, with bright green, almond-shaped eyes that darted from side to side but did not see him behind the pillar. The T-shirt and shorts she wore conformed well to her lithe, athletic body, and her high cheekbones and delicate jawline enhanced an already pretty face. The overall effect was a girl-next-door attractiveness that made her easily identifiable from this distance.
Franco looked at the photo in his hand and smiled. He now had a positive. It was Erica Jensen.