“So you think he saw the plates?”
“I think he had already looked at them. I keep a spare set of fake tags here in the shop, registered to a very old friend. They’re on the Nissan, so I’m hoping that will buy us some time. The police will come here and find my car, search my house, etc.”
“Just a typical day for Sean Wyatt, huh?” Her sarcasm was cute.
“The cops mean well, or at least I think they do. Nothing will be taken from my house. I just hope things are left as they found them.”
“You get searched often?”
He ignored the question. “Don’t worry. We’re going to figure this out, and trust me, you’ll be back in the office in no time. But I just killed two guys back there, and if that guy in the car has anything to do with it, I don’t think we are on the right side of the law at the moment. Call it a hunch.”
His words didn’t ease her mind much.
He walked quickly over to the running car. “We should probably be going. I’ll be glad to give you a tour of the whole place some other time.”
She was amazed that he could still flirt at a time like this. She followed him and opened the front passenger door simultaneously with him.
“Promise?” Her voice was playful as she slid into the front of the car. Apparently, she had put the double homicide behind her for the moment.
He smiled at her, careful not to show the concern in his mind. He wasn’t sure he trusted her. She shows up, and then all of the sudden he’s getting shot at. And was her fear legitimate or an act? He couldn’t tell at the moment, but it was a little odd how one moment she had been terrified and the next she was ready to hop in the car and go. A normal person might have tried to escape.
Suddenly, she screamed at the top of her lungs.
In the reflection of the tinted black windows, he saw a quick movement.
Sean’s reaction was immediate and fluid. He dropped to his knee to avoid the swinging elbow that was intended for the back of his neck. His fist launched at the attacker’s groin, finding the vulnerable area with a confirming groan of pain.
Hunched over, the attacker, dressed in a black sweater, staggered towards his prey, who had side-stepped quickly over to a row of garden tools.
The man’s recovery was too slow. Sean’s hands moved quickly, scooping up a shovel and bringing the head of it crashing against the face of the intruder. The stunned assailant crumpled into an unconscious heap on the floor of the garage.
Sean dropped the shovel and jumped in the car. Allyson’s mouth was agape as she stared at the scene.
“We have to go.” His voice had become very direct.
“Are you just going to leave him there?”
“Yeah.”
The black Maxima sped down a different, much shorter driveway on the backside of the property. It led into a dark, tiny forest of pines and oaks. Another gate within the tree cover was already open for them, and Sean guided the car out and onto a quiet suburban street.
Chapter 7
Trent Morris was less than happy. The warrant had come through quickly since Will had phoned in for it before Trent had even arrived at the coffee shop. Units got to the scene at the suspect’s house soon after. It had taken only minutes to get access to the property and yet all they found was an empty house and a garage full of motorcycles. Of course, the car they were looking for was there, also empty, the hood still faintly warm. They must have just missed them.
Investigators were busy checking out the car, removing panels and checking the undercarriage while, inside the house, another group was performing a similar search of the residence. He already knew they wouldn’t find anything there. He believed the suspects hadn’t even gone inside the house. They had come here, gotten out of the car, probably to get into another, and left just as quickly as they had arrived.
Will stepped into the garage from the door that led into the house. He looked equally annoyed at the situation. “Find anything?”
A frustrated glance was the only answer he needed. “They must have left a few minutes before we got here. Came in, changed cars, and left.”
Will filled in the other details, “Everything in the house is in order. I don’t think they even went inside.”
“I was thinking that too.” He looked around at the scene, “What kind of car are we looking for now?”
“No idea.”
A latex-gloved officer was busily examining the trunk while another was face down in the front seat checking under the dash of the Camaro.
“What do you mean, no idea? If they switched cars, the other car has to be registered to Wyatt. This is his house, isn’t it?” Something didn’t seem right. What Morris had thought would be a simple operation was starting to look anything but.
“Yeah,” Will answered. “That would make sense. But the only car Wyatt has on record is this Camaro. All of the bikes checked out,” he said with a slight hand gesture toward the collection of motorcycles. “All of them are here and accounted for?”
“As far as we know.” His tone was determined. “They left in a car, but we don’t have any idea what kind of car, the color, the tags, nothing.” Morris scanned the room, perhaps hoping there would be some sort of clue. “Let’s get back to the station. I want to know more about this guy.”
The two detectives started to walk out the garage door to their car when suddenly, the young officer who’s face was down under the dash popped up. “Detective Morris?” His voice was mixed curiosity and excitement. “I found something.”
Will and Trent stopped and turned back. “What you got?” Morris walked back over to the car where the cop was now kneeling in the driver’s seat holding something in a white gloved hand.
“Looks like a homing device, sir.”
“That’s not one of ours,” Trent said, inspecting the device. It was tiny, about the size of a nickel and looked much like a small battery one might find in a watch.
Will had come over to look at the find as well. “I don’t think it’s the Feds’ either.”
“No. And why would they have put it there?” If Morris was confused before, he was completely baffled now. An archaeologist from the IAA along with a journalist from a local newspaper murder two nameless guys in a parking lot, run back to the house, get into a car that doesn’t exist, and leave behind a car with a homing beacon on it. The whole thing was weird.
Gears were turning in his mind. Finally, Trent broke the silence as the discovering officer and Will looked at him as if waiting for directions, “You guys finish up here. I am going to head back to the office.”
“What are you going to do?” Will asked.
“Find out exactly who this Sean Wyatt is.”
Chapter 8
The old man was sitting quietly in the courtyard of his lavish estate. A servant brought a pot of fresh coffee to him, along with a slice of tiramisu. He thanked the young man who returned through the large oak double doors from whence he came. After pouring the brown liquid into a gray tea cup and mixing a dash of sugar and cream, he leaned back and savored the aroma.
It had been several hours since he had heard from Jens Ulrich, and that was disconcerting. Since the beginning of this operation, his operative had been in contact with him every day to provide progress updates. Perhaps he had chosen the wrong man for the job.
A light breeze moved across the courtyard. Two butterflies fluttered from a small bush and settled down on another. The sound of a bee buzzing around a flower nearby signaled the full onset of spring.