going to make a break for it.”
“And you had no reason to believe he wasn’t either,” Sean pointed out. “But from the WFO? Really?”
“How?” demanded Michelle.
“Does it matter?” asked Littlefield.
“It might just help us find him.”
Littlefield slumped in his chair.
“He said he was hungry. Wanted a hot dog and curly fries from the vendor outside. He also wanted some air. Sent one of the old codger uniforms with him. Our guy had two dogs and a pack of fries in his hands and was trying to pay for the food when the kid took off across the street like a rocket. Right in the middle of rush hour. In less than a minute he was gone. Our guy said the boy could flat-out run.”
“Uh, yeah, he’s sixteen freaking years old with long legs,” said Michelle. “And he’s on the swim team, which means he has tons of endurance. But I’m sure you knew all that. Which makes me wonder why you sent an old codger out with him in the first place!”
“He wasn’t under arrest. He wasn’t being detained.”
“It was your job to keep him safe. Now he could be anywhere,” said Michelle. “Including dead.”
“Okay, I get all that,” said Littlefield miserably. “I screwed up.” He looked from one to the other. “So what now?”
“Now we find Tyler before some other folks do,” said Sean. He added, “I’m assuming we’re free to go?”
“For the time being. But I’ll feel a lot better if I send some agents with you. For personal protection, of course.”
“No offense,” said Michelle. “But the Secret Service does personal protection a lot better than you, so we’re good to go.”
“So what did the president want with you two?” asked Littlefield.
Michelle said, “To congratulate us on our work to date.”
“Cut the crap. What did he want?”
“He wants us to do something,” said Sean. “And we’re thinking about it.”
“The president asks you to do something and you’re thinking about it?” Littlefield said incredulously.
“You know,” said Michelle. “That’s exactly how he sounded too. Well, take care, we’ll be going now.”
She put her hand on the knob and eyed Sean. An invisible message seemed to have been telegraphed between them.
Sean said, “We’ll keep you abreast of our investigation if you do the same.”
“You know I can’t promise that,” said Littlefield.
“Good,” said Sean. “Then we’ll keep you in the dark on ours too.”
They left.
As they walked down the hall Michelle said, “Where do you think Tyler went?”
“He got a message back from his dad. My guess is he got another one.”
Sean was already pulling his phone out and checking the back door he had established on Tyler’s Gmail account.
“And there it is. And unfortunately it’s not in code.”
“Why unfortunately?” asked Michelle. “If it’s not coded we should be able to break it easily, even without Edgar.”
“You’d think, wouldn’t you?”
He handed her the phone.
She eyed the screen, reading the short email.
Tonight at ten. Usual place.
“Usual place,” said Michelle, her brow furrowed.
“Seemingly straightforward information without context is better than code,” noted Sean. “There’s no logical way to crack it because we don’t know where the usual place is.”
“Sure there is,” countered Michelle, tossing him back his phone.
He caught it and stared at her as she sped up on her way out of WFO.
They had to take a taxi back to Sean’s house because the FBI had refused, or at least Littlefield had refused, them a ride back.
Michelle sat impatiently in the backseat, urging the cabdriver to run red lights, break the speed limit, and come as close as possible to sideswiping cars that refused to get out of the way.
“In other words,” said Sean, “you want him to drive just like you.”
“Basically, yeah.”
“And why the rush?”
“Got an idea. We need to talk to someone.”
“Who?”
“The only person I know who can give us some context and help us understand that email.”
They returned to Sean’s house and climbed immediately into Michelle’s Land Cruiser. Sean had to kick junk and trash off the floorboard so his feet would have a place to rest. Some of the stuff fell outside on the driveway as he closed the door.
“Just so you know,” he said, “I am not picking that up.”
“Good boy, Sean. Glad to see you’re being a little less of a neatnik. It shows personal growth and maturity.”
“You know that was not my poi—”
He didn’t finish because she had backed the truck out of his driveway at about eighty miles an hour before slamming it into drive and hurtling off. She started tapping the steering wheel with her fingers, moving her head from side to side and smiling.
“You really get high from this stuff, don’t you?” he observed, watching her.
“What stuff?”
“Speed, danger, being stupid.”
“You lost me on the last one.”
“So the context? Fill me in.”
“Kathy Burnett. They grew up together. They’re tight. I’m betting if anyone can tell us where the ‘usual place’ is for Tyler and his dad, it will be her.”
“That’s actually quite insightful, Michelle,” he said.
“I thought so.” She glanced at him. “But if we do guess right and we catch up to Sam Wingo, what then?”
“I’ve been running those scenarios in my head. He’s officially wanted by the authorities. Our duty should be clear.”
“Our duty is never clear.”
“This is very true,” he agreed.
“So again, what do we do?”
“I don’t have a clear answer. A lot depends on what Sam Wingo’s story is.”
“He’s Special Forces, Sean. Selected for a pretty classified project. And survived what looked to be an ambush and a bunch of people dead. Guy clearly has incredible skills. If he’s gone bad—”
“Then we’ll have to tread carefully.”
“Maybe more than that.”
He looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“Sean, we might have to be prepared to kill him. Before he kills us.”
“Kill him? Right in front of his son?”
“It’s not my first choice, obviously.”
Sean stared at the scenery passing by them at eighty miles an hour.
CHAPTER
46
“USUAL PLACE?” REPEATED KATHY BURNETT.
She was standing on her front porch while Sean and Michelle stood opposite her.
They had gotten here in record time. Once Sean thought a cop was going to take up the chase when they flew past his position, but he just stayed where he was. Sean thought it might be because he was doubtful he could catch them.
“Right. The usual place,” said Michelle. “Someplace that Tyler and his dad might go to. To meet, talk, do something together?
“Why don’t you just ask Tyler?” she said, a bit suspiciously, Sean thought.
Before Michelle could answer he said, “This is for down the road, Kathy. It’s just background work that all detectives do. We’re simply building a file on everyone and that includes their likes and dislikes, preferences, typical meeting places. It might not matter now, but it could later on. It’s as much for Tyler’s protection as anything.”
Michelle shot him a glance, but his gaze remained fixed on Kathy. He was hoping she would not think too much about this avalanche of words, because if she did the girl would realize they made no sense at all.
Kathy nodded slowly. “Okay, I guess I can see that.”
Sean let out an inaudible breath of relief. “But nothing is coming to you?”
M
ichelle said, “I saw fishing poles leaning against the wall in the laundry room when I was over there.”
Kathy looked exasperated with herself. “Of course. They used to go to fish at a place on the river near here. Well, it’s not much more than a creek really, but they’ve caught stuff there. And Tyler and his dad would just hang out and talk. I’ve been there twice with Tyler, but I’m not into fishing. I’d just watch and we’d talk.”
Sean whipped out his notepad and a pen. “Can you tell us exactly where it is?”
She gave them directions. They thanked her and headed back to the Land Cruiser.
“Give me the keys,” Sean said.
“What?”
“The keys,” he said again, snapping his fingers.
“Why?”
“Because our timetable does not allow for us to be stopped by the police for speeding or otherwise reckless driving.”
“We weren’t stopped on the way over here, were we?”
“By the grace of God. I can’t count on that happening again. Keys please.”
She tossed them to him so hard one of them cut his finger.
“Thanks,” he said tersely.
They climbed in and drove off.
Michelle checked her watch. “Seven thirty already. It’s going to be tight. Sure you don’t want me to drive?”
“Very sure, thanks.”
He sped off and followed the turns Michelle fed him from his notes.
“What’s our plan?” asked Michelle as Sean hung a hard left and pressed the gas pedal back down.
“We have to assume Sam Wingo will come in armed and paranoid. He’ll trust his son, of course. But he won’t trust anyone else.”
“We can’t play judge, jury, and executioner, Sean, not on the spot.”
“Hell, you were the one saying we might have to kill him.”
“I also said it was not my first choice.”
“We have to control the situation. Then we have to get him to trust us.”
“I don’t see either one of those objectives being easily accomplished.”
“They won’t be.”
“But if he came back for his son, isn’t that pretty strong proof he’s innocent?”
Sean looked at her. “Maybe. But it’s not conclusive proof, Michelle. And don’t forget, if he was set up then whoever did set him up will not want him to be able to come back and talk to anyone.”
“And if we’re in the middle of that?”
“Hell, we’re already in the middle of that.”
Michelle pulled her gun from its holster, checked to make sure a round was chambered, then put it away. She let out a long breath. “What if Wingo doesn’t come alone?”
“Who else?”
“Assuming he’s not innocent.”
Sean nodded, looking thoughtful. “The problem is he knows this fishing hole place better than we do.”
“Yeah, but I bet he hasn’t been trained to scope a place in about six seconds, like we have.”
“We’re going to have to split up on this. I’ll be the contact person. You cover me.”
“Why not the other way around?”
He smiled. “I’m not too proud to admit that you’re a better shot than I am.”
She looked in the back of her truck. “I’ve got my sniper rifle back there.”
“Good. We might just need it.”
“You think Tyler has doubts about his dad?”
Sean shook his head. “No. He obviously idolizes the guy. I just hope the sergeant doesn’t disappoint in the hero department.” He looked up ahead. “We’re going to find out soon enough. That’s the turnoff for the road to the fishing hole. We’re going to park up the road a ways. The last thing I want is for Tyler to spot your truck. We’ll backtrack, do a recon, set up an observation point, and wait.”
“Sam Wingo might already be here waiting.”
“He might. And there’s nothing we can do about that.” He looked at her. “Can you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Pull the trigger on Wingo if it comes to it. With Tyler there?”
Michelle didn’t hesitate. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Sean. You can take that to the bank and cash it.”
CHAPTER
47
THE MAN SAID, “THIS IS more valuable than gold, you know that? Than platinum. Than, hell, I don’t know what.”
Alan Grant sat in the car and stared over at him.
“I understand that,” said Grant. “More than platinum. And yet you’re only charging for platinum. Thanks for the deal.”
The other man was Milo Pratt. He was short, chubby, and had a lot of years in places that had allowed to him to get the platinum Grant needed.
He smiled at Grant. “Do you know what the price of platinum is?”
“High. Higher than gold, probably.”
“Gold isn’t even in the ballpark. What’s your name again?”
“Not important.”
“Why do you want it?
“I’m curious, always have been,” said Grant. “It’s just my thing.”
Pratt smiled more broadly. “But why this thing? Why this info? Guy has to ask. You understand, right?”
“Perfectly. I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t asked.”
“Good, good. So why? Really?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“You a traitor? I mean, I got no problem with that, but I would like to know.”
“Not a traitor, quite the opposite in fact.”
“You a Fed? Got some squirrelly covert op going on?”
Grant pointed at him and smiled. “You have a quick eye.”
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