After the call ended, he puzzled over why a woman would be camped out at the nursing home and driving Seth Harper’s van. Luís kept watch at the location through the evening, looking for the kid and maintaining surveillance on the blue van. The longer the woman stayed, the more she fueled his curiosity.
“What are you up to, chica?” he muttered, snapping a few night shots to give a time reference.
Now he had more to say to his client than merely reporting the van color. And he had a feeling he’d be coming into bonus money if he worked it right. The man answered on the second ring and wasn’t pleased to hear about the added wrinkle.
“A blue van?” the man asked.
“Yeah, she’s still here,” Luís said. “But vehicle registration is under Seth Harper. And there’s more.”
He told his client about Harper’s connection to the old Danny Ray Millstone case, even reading some of the news articles over the phone. The man sounded pleased by what he’d found.
“So what do you want me to do?” he asked.
“She may lead you to Harper. Use your judgment, but your priority is the same. Find him. And call me when you know where he is.”
The man ended the call, leaving it up to him to decide what to do where the woman was concerned. So when she started her vehicle, Luís followed and gave her plenty of room. He didn’t want to lose her or give himself away. But the mystery surrounding Seth Harper deepened.
And his new case just got more interesting.
South Chicago
11:20 P.M.
Burke had a commercial storage unit near the Dan Ryan Expressway off 87th Street. Located amid a cluster of warehouses and local businesses, it was a middle-of–the-road unit. Not too high-end to make his brand of sleaze stand out as a patron, but upscale enough to have decent security measures. The units had video cameras and were gated with keycard access at the entrance and at each unit.
From experience, she knew such facilities gave after-hours and weekend access upon request. But with her twenty-four/seven five-finger skills, she didn’t have to worry about that. All she had to do was figure a way in and not get caught in the flesh or on digital.
Alexa pulled behind her van, no doubt aided by her active tracking beacon, and joined her in the front seat. She dumped a knapsack on the floorboard and slipped on a pair of black gloves and a stocking cap to cover her blond hair. But after getting a good look at Jessie’s bruised face, the woman had plenty to say.
“You look pretty rough. And I know you’re not getting enough sleep.” She turned to face her. “Tracking your friend may take time. You gotta pace yourself.”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” She looked across the street, avoiding the woman’s stare.
“Suit yourself.” The blonde got down to business. “Burke doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d lease a unit like this. He must have something worth stealing to pay the extra bucks, which I’m expecting to find a little ironic by the time we’re done.”
“Yeah, I was thinking the same.” She retrieved the night-vision binoculars from her glove compartment and checked out Burke’s storage facility. “Looks like we’ll have the place to ourselves. I don’t see anyone else on the property, but video poses a problem. It might limit our time.”
“Not so, grasshoppa.” Alexa rummaged through the rucksack at her feet and pulled out her gear. “I’ve got countersurveillance to take out the video. We won’t have all night, but whoever is monitoring will think it’s a power outage, at least for a while.”
“Slick.” Jess tied back her hair and tugged on her gloves. “I saw one of those on eBay.”
“And I’ve got a device to plug into every keycard lock. It’ll pop it in seconds. No climbing over the gate or crowbars.” Now the blonde was just showing off.
“Is this another convincing argument for me to join the team?” She grinned and grabbed the lock device for closer inspection. “’Cause I’m a girl who likes toys.”
“Whatever works, Beckett.” Alexa raised an eyebrow. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 20
Luís Dante had followed the blue van from the nursing home, nearly losing the woman as he maintained a safe distance. Now, as she slowed to park on a deserted street, he doused his headlights and pulled into the shadows a few blocks down and kept watch with binoculars.
Another vehicle pulled behind the van, coming off a side street. A blond woman joined her, dressed in dark clothing and carrying a bag. Luís had no idea what the women were doing, especially at this time of night. Businesses were closed, and there were no bars on the street that he could see. And when they didn’t get out of the van right away, his suspicious nature kicked into high gear.
“¿Qué estas pensando, chica? ¿Y quién es tu amiga?” he muttered, wondering what was on her mind and who the other woman was. He made a note of the license tag for the second car and hit the speed dial on his phone.
When his cop friend answered, he said, “Hey, Frankie, I got another tag. You got time to run it?”
“Yeah, give it to me.”
He read the tag and waited on hold while his friend pulled up the record, but when Frankie didn’t come back with a quick answer, he knew something was up. He lit a fresh cigarette, expecting to wait, but the women got out of the van and headed across the street on foot. As they disappeared around a corner, he lost sight of them at an intersection. From where he was parked, he couldn’t see where they went.
“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath, blowing smoke through his nose.
He had a decision to make. Would he stay put and wait for them to return or would he follow to find out what they were up to? Curiosity won out. With the phone to his ear, he got out of his car and flicked his cigarette to the curb. He locked his vehicle and followed the women. Using binoculars that he carried on a strap around his neck, he could watch them from a distance.
Luís crept to the intersection and peered around the corner, spying them at the secured gate to a storage complex. If they were accessing a unit, why would they park far away? And what was so important this time of night?
Something didn’t add up. Under his shirt, he felt for the Glock 19 that he kept in a holster on his belt. But when his friend came back on the line, he stopped short of pulling his weapon.
“Looks like your car is a rental,” Frankie said. “But the ID of the driver came up a dead end. The only time I’ve ever seen this is with the feds. CIA, NSA, whatever. What are you into, Luís?”
“I have no idea, but when I do, I’ll call you,” he replied, lowering his voice.
“Watch your ass, mi amigo.”
“Later, bro.”
Luís ended the call and tucked the cell phone in his pocket. He held up the binoculars and followed the movements of the women, knowing he’d have to get closer. He headed down the block to cross the street without being noticed and after he got to the other side, he pulled his weapon.
Curiosity definitely had him by the throat. And he couldn’t fault his client for that.
On foot, Jess crossed the street and followed Alexa, sticking close to the shadows. They didn’t want to drive onto the property using her van or the rental car and take the chance a bystander might remember the vehicle. As they got closer to the storage complex, her companion pulled gear from her knapsack and got to work, employing the devices she’d brought with her.
“I’ve taken out the video cams.” Alexa stashed her countersurveillance gear and retrieved the keycard equipment, a simple-looking black-box device with electronic leads. “Once we get inside, we’ll need to move. We won’t have much time.”