Текст книги "The Naked Eye"

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

Соавторы: Roy Johansen
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“I thought you and your computer stooge were just arguing about what to do with her.”

“Oh, no, it was all about anticipation. I do admit there was a bone of contention, but I took care of it.” He mournfully shook his head. “Unfortunately, Northrup is no longer with us. But he was able to finish up the last of my requests before he departed this plane.” He smiled. “But back to anticipation. Even when I was disposing of Stokes, I was thinking that it was too short. That no one had the full experience of my kill. I decided to correct that error with our beautiful Beth. I know if you enjoyed the last twelve hours that you’ll be eager to know that I’m going to give you another twenty-four.”

“Why?” She stiffened. “What are you going to do to her?”

“How suspicious you are. I’m merely giving you the time you need to be in the frantic state that will make your death totally satisfying to me. I may play with our Beth a bit, but I won’t start the final phase of her death until you’ve gone through sufficient agony. I can see you running around, trying to find her, trying to find me. But, of course, that’s not going to happen. I’ve made sure that I’m very safe. You couldn’t find me when Stokes was being butchered, could you? No, you’ll try and try, and in the end, when we come together, you’ll be broken.”

“What do you mean ‘play’ with her?”

“You’ll have to wonder about that, won’t you? But it won’t be anything compared to the grand finale I’m planning for her and … you. Twenty-four hours, Kendra.”

The monitor screen went blank.

She stared unseeingly at the screen. Twenty-four hours. Grand Finale.

“Well, that answers the question.” Lynch was back in the room. “Colby has her, and Northrup is no longer a player.”

“You saw it in the office?”

He nodded. “With Eve and Sam.”

“Twenty-four hours. She only has twenty-four hours…”

“You’re looking at the glass half-empty. We have twenty-four hours.” His eyes were glittering with fierce vitality. “You’ve always said Colby was an egomaniac. He doesn’t believe that we can upset his foul little applecart. He thinks he’s safe.” His hands fell on her shoulders, and he gave her a slight shake. “But we already have a head start. Hell, twenty-four hours can be a lifetime.”

Beth’s lifetime.

Kendra shook her head to clear it. She’d been caught up in Colby’s malice, Colby’s world. She felt a sudden surge of energy and hope as she was drawn back into the world she shared with Lynch.

“You’re damn right,” she said brusquely. “Twenty-four hours will be enough. We’ll make it enough.” She headed for the door. “Let’s start doing it.”

CHAPTER 16

“HOW IS IT GOING?” KENDRA asked, as Eve came into the kitchen where she was working. “I haven’t seen anything of you or Sam in hours.”

“Busy.” Eve reached into the refrigerator and got out a bottle of Red Bull. “I don’t how Sam manages to keep going. I guess it’s this stuff he keeps drinking. It must be pretty powerful. He gave up coffee last night and has been guzzling this.” She got a cup of coffee for herself. “As far as how it’s going, I don’t have any idea. Sam keeps having breakthroughs but not enough, never enough.” She rubbed her temple. “Colby’s been bouncing his calls and video streams off a lot of different network systems around the world, which makes him difficult to track. Sam thought the last call might have been more direct, so he’s been trying to work on that one.” She leaned back against the counter and glanced at Kendra’s computer and her scratch pad, scrawled with notes. “What about you?”

“Plodding. I’ve just discovered two more Wingate shipping companies in Los Angeles County and a Wingate funeral home in La Jolla. The funeral home sounds like Colby’s style. I’ll call Griffin and ask him to send a couple agents to check them out.” She grimaced. “Though his men are stretched to the max right now. Do you know how many Wingates are residents of the cities in Southern California? The agents can’t even phone them in case they trigger an action on Colby’s part. We don’t know if it’s a name, a company, a ship or—”

“A funeral home,” Eve supplied. “I get the picture. Very discouraging.”

Kendra shook her head. “I can’t be discouraged. I won’t let that happen.”

Eve nodded. “I feel the same way. We don’t have that right.” She took her coffee and the bottle of Red Bull and put them on a tray. “Where’s Lynch?”

“He set up shop in the living room. He didn’t want to disturb me. He’s been on the phone for hours. He’s been calling every contact he has around the world. He decided that the FBI wasn’t enough, so he’s pulling in favors from the Justice Department, CIA, Interpol … I’ve never even heard of many of those organizations he works for.”

“Bless him,” Eve said quietly. “We need all the clout we can get.”

“Yes, we do.” She smiled faintly. “Though I think he’d be a little surprised that you were raining blessings down on him.”

“I’d nominate him for sainthood if he came up with a strong lead.” She picked up the tray. “And if it brought us to that crazy bastard, I’d call the Pope and lobby.”

“Is there something a little sacrilegious about that thought?”

“It’s sacrilegious to think of Colby even near Beth,” Eve said. Her hands on the tray were shaking the tiniest bit as she passed Kendra on the way to the door. “I’m trying not to think of it. But I can’t keep my eyes off the clock. It’s been over twelve hours.”

“I know. We still have time, Eve.”

She looked over her shoulder. “Yes. But I’d feel better if one of Sam’s breakthroughs showed signs of breaking this blasted deadlock.” She drew a deep breath. “It will happen. We have to have faith.”

Kendra nodded. “And lots of caffeine. I may make another pot of coffee myself.”

“Just stay away from the Red Bull.” Eve smiled and left the kitchen.

Kendra gazed after her for a moment. In this time of frustration and panic, it was good having Eve here working with her toward a common goal.

But the key word was work. Neither of them had time to devote to anything but finding Beth. She glanced down at her notes and circled the funeral-home reference. It would be—

“Wingate!” Lynch strode into the kitchen. “I just got off the phone. We’ve got a hit.”

She sat up straight. “Finally. Were you talking to Griffin?”

“No, my Justice Department source.” Lynch walked across the office and picked up his tablet computer. “Wingate is definitely a name, not a place. Colby has been using that name since he resurfaced.” His fingers were racing over the keys. “A James Wingate crossed in from the Mexican border at San Ysidro last week.”

It was too good to be true. A name and a connection to Colby. “But how do we know that it’s—”

Lynch thrust his tablet computer in front of Kendra’s face.

Colby.

At a border pedestrian-inspection station with a beard and longish hair, but definitely Colby. There was no mistaking those piercing eyes and tiny teeth.

“There’s surveillance video and about a dozen more photos of him at the border crossing. It’s all being sent to Griffin as we speak. Griffin will jump on it with the speed of light.”

A lead, a break at last. Excitement was exploding within her. “I think you may just be on your way to sainthood,” she murmured.

“What?” he said impatiently.

“Never mind.” She couldn’t take her eyes from the photos. “Mexico … That’s where he’s been all these months?”

“Possibly. It would make sense. Under the radar as far as U.S. law enforcement was concerned. Close enough to keep his sights on you until he was ready to strike. The night before Colby crossed over, a fairly well-known identity broker was murdered in Todos Santos. It’s a coastal city about thirty miles south of the border. The man was stabbed. Gutted. It could be that Colby bought a new identity from this man, then killed him to wipe out his trail.”

“Wingate,” Kendra said. She finally made herself look away from Lynch’s tablet. “Detective Stokes must have somehow found out that was the name he was using. After he’d been taken, maybe he spotted some paperwork in the van or heard Colby talking to someone.”

Lynch nodded. “However he found out, it’s impressive that Stokes was able to get it across to us. He was one good cop.”

“Yes, he was.” Kendra tried to shake the image of Stokes bleeding on that table. She turned back to Lynch. “So what now?”

“Let’s get back to the FBI office. With a definite full name to search, this opens up a lot of new investigative possibilities for them. It’s logical that one break might lead to another.” He said quietly, “And we have you and Stokes to thank for it.”

“Excuse me if I’m not ready to start patting myself on the back yet.” Kendra checked her watch. Thirteen hours thirty minutes since Colby had set his deadline. What had he been doing to Beth during those hours? She had been trying not to dwell on that while she had been working desperately to find a way to rescue Beth. Colby had said he wanted to break Kendra, and she couldn’t let him do it. It would be a defeat for Kendra, and it might be death for Beth. She grabbed her computer and handbag and got to her feet. “Let’s go. I have to stop by the office and tell Eve and Sam about this, but we have to hurry. We’re running out of time.”

Hold on, Beth.

God, I’m praying he’s not hurting you.

We’re trying so hard.

We’ll get to you. I promise.

*   *   *

HE WAS COMING TOWARD HER AGAIN.

Beth couldn’t see Colby in the darkness, but she could hear him, smell him.

It was the third time tonight, and she knew what was going to follow.

Tonight. Was it night? She couldn’t tell, it was all darkness and the smell of tar.

Her heart was starting to beat hard as helpless panic overwhelmed her.

He had stopped before the end before, but would he do it this time?

“Are you ready, Beth?” Colby asked. “I can practically hear your heartbeat from here. You try so hard to be brave. But it’s difficult not knowing, isn’t it?

She didn’t answer. Her voice might shake, and she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“It’s such a struggle. You’re being deprived of the one thing that is natural to all of us. You can’t help but be frightened.” He was standing next to her, and she could see his face above her. “But consider it as training. I want you to know what to expect. I’m giving Kendra a taste of anticipation, it’s not right that I should deprive you.” He lifted his hands and she saw the blur of the white pillow he was holding. “Breathe deep, Beth…”

The pillow came down over her face!

She was pinned, unable to shift on the table. She tried desperately to move her head to get away from that smothering hold. It was pure instinct. She knew it was hopeless. Colby was too strong, and he knew just how to use that pillow.

No breath.

No breath.

Her lungs were struggling.

Her heart was pounding, trying to leap from her breast.

Her eyes were bulging.

No breath.

No breath.

No breath.

Dizzy.

Darkness.

This time he was going to do it. This time he wouldn’t—

The pillow lifted, and he smiled down at her as she struggled frantically to breathe, to force air into her tortured lungs.

“You’re getting weaker. Or were you just more frightened?”

Maybe a little of both, but she wouldn’t admit it to him. “Did … you enjoy … your game?” It didn’t matter now that her voice was hoarse and shaking. He would expect it. “I’m not weaker. Cut me loose, and you’ll see.”

“Why should I do that? Your helplessness is exquisite. It makes the suffering all the more satisfying. You’re never certain if I’ll let you come back, are you?”

“Aren’t you afraid … repetition … will take that … uncertainty … away?”

“Oh, no. It will just reinforce it.”

“Is that how … you’re going to kill … me? Are you … going to smother me?”

“Perhaps. I wouldn’t put you through this entertaining training if your death wasn’t to have certain similar elements.” He stroked the pillow. “I’ll leave you now. Try to sleep. It will be interesting waking you…”

He was going away.

For a little while, or an hour, or several hours.

Beth drew a deep breath. She would try to sleep because she knew he didn’t want her to do it. He wanted her to go through his damn anticipation and dread. Suffer mentally as well as physically.

Sleep.

Rest.

Gather her strength.

For the next time.

*   *   *

KENDRA AND LYNCH WERE FIVE minutes away from the FBI office when Lynch’s text chime sounded from his car stereo system. He pressed a button on his dashboard’s touch screen to read the text that had just come in on his phone. “We’re taking a detour,” he said.

Kendra looked at the text. It read. MEET SPECIAL AGENT METCALF AT BONITA TRUCK RENTALS 1525 12TH STREET. Her gaze flew to Lynch. “Colby’s white van?”

“That would be my guess. I told you having a confirmed name could really kick-start things. They’ve only had twenty-four hours, and they’ve already identified every place in the city that had rented a Ford Transit cargo van in the last week. But they haven’t had time to check names. If this name is attached to the rental, it could score big-time.”

Lynch exited and got back on the I-8 heading east toward downtown. Within fifteen minutes, they were standing in the lobby of Bonita Truck Rentals and Storage on 12th Street. Special Agent Roland Metcalf was already there.

Kendra moved quickly toward him. “What’s the story, Metcalf?”

“Colby was here. He rented the van six days ago under the name of James Wingate.”

“Address?” Lynch asked.

“The manager’s getting it for me now, along with the credit-card info he left. Although I don’t know where he got a credit card.”

“Probably part of the identity packet he bought in Mexico,” Lynch said.

The manager, a bald man with a bushy moustache, emerged from the back room with a canary-yellow copy of the invoice. He nodded his greeting at Kendra and Lynch as he laid the paper on the counter for them to see. “It was a one-way cross-country rental. The van’s due at Star Truck and Van Rentals in Norfolk, Virginia, this weekend.”

“Norfolk,” Kendra repeated.

Lynch nodded. “They shouldn’t count on seeing it there.”

“He knew what he was doing as usual,” Kendra said, looking at the invoice. “He also has a Norfolk address listed here.”

“Bogus, I’m sure,” Lynch said. “But you want to have it checked out, Metcalf.”

“We’re already on it,” Metcalf said. He turned toward the manager. “How many copies were there in this invoice?”

“Four. The customer gets the pink copy, we get the other three.”

Metcalf nodded down toward the invoice. “I want to take this with me. Will you please round up the other two copies and let me have those, too?”

The manager looked doubtfully at him. “Can’t I just make copies for you?”

“No, but feel free to make copies for yourself.”

“Uh, don’t you need a warrant or something?”

“No time for that,” Metcalf snapped. “Your customer is a serial killer, and I know you won’t want to be responsible for any other crimes. I need the three originals because his fingerprints may be on one of them. Got it?” Metcalf produced a clear document bag. “And I’d appreciate you handling them very carefully, okay?”

Obviously rattled, the manager nodded and hurried to the back room.”

“Nicely done,” Kendra murmured.

Lynch pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the invoice. “Colby’s info may be bogus, but there’s something here that might help us.” He glanced up at Kendra. “We now have his van’s license-plate number.”

“Bingo. Success.”

He thought for a moment. “Yeah, it very well might.” He quickly motioned for her to follow him. “Let’s go back to the house. I need to talk to Sam.”

Lynch House

“LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT.” Sam pushed away from the desk to stare at Kendra, Lynch, and Eve. “You want me to do an ALPR hack?”

Lynch finished jotting down the license number and slid it across the desk to him. “Can you do it?”

“Of course. The only problem is how long it might take.”

“ALPR?” Eve asked.

“Automatic License Plate Reader,” Lynch said. “The DEA started using them in border states a few years ago to track possible drug trafficking. Then the Department of Homeland Security started throwing money at local police departments to install them in jurisdictions all over the country. They’ve given away at least $50 million to do this, probably a lot more. These devices are sometimes clamped on freeway signs, mounted in patrol cars, or even just apps in mobile telephones. They can be anywhere.”

“To track terror suspects?” Kendra asked.

“That’s the idea, but anybody who’s been on an interstate highway in the past few years has had their license plate automatically photographed, logged, and filed away in a database somewhere.”

“Several databases,” Sam said. “It’s kind of a mess right now. Homeland Security is working on combining the license-plate traffic data gathered from thousands of jurisdictions all over the country. One day, they’d like to be able to track any car from one side of the country to the other in real time.”

“That’s a little scary,” Kendra said.

Sam nodded. “The ACLU and other privacy advocates aren’t crazy about it. I’m not either. But for Beth’s sake, I sure wish they could do that right now.”

“You and me both,” Eve said. “So what can you do?”

Sam studied the license-plate number in his hand. “It depends on how quickly the local ALPR databases are updated with the license-plate numbers they capture. I assume the FBI is doing everything they can on their end?”

“Yes, but I’ve been part of enough investigations to know how difficult it is to quickly pull this kind of data together from all the various sources: California Highway Patrol, SDPD, San Diego County Sheriff’s Department, all the various municipalities … Like you say, it’s a mess.”

“In other words, the FBI doesn’t have a Sam Zackoff,” Kendra said.

“And they don’t have a Tom Sims,” Sam said soberly. “But even he would have been at a disadvantage here. There are miles of red tape that any official entity has to wade through for a multijurisdictional project like this.”

“My thought exactly,” Lynch said. “We don’t have time to cut through that tape right now. You know what I’m asking. You went around the system before to track his streaming video message. I want you to do the same thing with this.”

Sam leaned back in his chair as he frowned down at the license-plate number. “Not impossible, but when you start crossing swords with Homeland Security, they have a way of getting nasty. And fast. You’d better be ready to smooth things over with them if they come down on us.”

Lynch pointed to the walls. “Built to withstand 40mm grenade launchers, remember? I’ll try not to test them, but I guarantee I’ll buy you all the time you need while I make our explanations.”

Sam leaned toward the cobbled-together computer rig that dominated Lynch’s office. “I’ll see what I can do.” He added grimly, “It’s not gonna be pretty. I’m going for speed, so I’m not going to even try to cover my tracks when I invade those police departments’ networks. Get ready for some hell to rain down.”

*   *   *

“YOU’VE HELD UP AMAZINGLY WELL,” Colby said as he removed the pillow. “No tears. No begging. I’ll have to tell Kendra what a brave little soldier she had for a friend.”

“Don’t—do—that.”

“Why, that was almost begging. Or was it an order? It’s difficult to tell when you’re panting like that.”

“Bastard.”

“Ah, it was an order. You don’t want Kendra to know how I made you suffer. But that’s part of the package, Beth.” He laughed, and she could hear him moving away. “A package that is very close to being opened and revealed…”

*   *   *

KENDRA’S PHONE RANG.

Sam.

Thank God. They had been waiting for hours for word from him, and she was a nervous wreck.

She punched the access as she showed the ID to Griffin and Lynch. “It’s Sam.” She spoke into the phone. “Sam, I just put you on speaker. I hope you’re telling me you have something.”

“City Heights, off the I-15 freeway at either University Avenue or El Cajon Boulevard. That’s Exit 5A or 5B in City Heights.”

Griffin stepped closer to the phone. “What are you basing that on?”

“It’s a set of DEA license-plate readers on the Escondido Freeway. If you can get the DEA to give you access, you can see for yourself. Every time that van’s license plate has appeared on any of the local ALPR databases, it entered and left the I-15 freeway at either University Avenue or El Cajon Boulevard. That’s Exit 5A or 5B in City Heights.”

Griffin turned to Agent Metcalf. “Find us a city plan for that neighborhood. I want architectural details for as many houses and buildings there as you can dig up.”

“Including those with basements and cellars,” Kendra added.

“Exactly. There aren’t many of those around here. But we’ll need to go visual with our boots on the ground. House to house, building to building.”

“Without alerting Colby,” Kendra said.

“That goes without saying. We’re not amateurs, Kendra.”

“All it takes is one mistake, and Beth is dead.”

Lynch stared at a large map of the city that dominated the wall at the end of Griffin’s office. “City Heights. It’s a large area.”

That’s what Kendra was thinking.

A very large area.

And Beth only had a little over one hour left on the clock.

Griffin was already on his office phone, ordering the massive increase in manpower needed.

Kendra joined Lynch at the map, her gaze scanning the City Heights area, trying to see something, anything, that would make the search go faster, easier.

She could see nothing.

And she couldn’t stay here, helplessly waiting for other people to save Beth. Boots on the ground. She whirled and headed for the door. “Let’s get over there.”

*   *   *

“ARE YOU READY?” COLBY ASKED.

The words he’d used during all those hours of torture.

“Where’s your pillow, you son of a bitch?”

“Not necessary.” He smiled down at her. “You’ve graduated, Beth. I just came to say good-bye.”

She went still. “Then do it, damn you.”

“Oh, I will.” He turned away and went toward the stairs. “Right now.”

She stared at him in confusion.

He looked back at her and smiled. “You believe all your training may have been for nothing? No such thing. I’m just adjusting it for another form. Remember the lack of breath. Your lungs struggling. Your heart pounding. The helplessness of not being able to fight what’s being done to you.”

“I could hardly forget.”

“Exactly.” He opened a utility box on the wall and then turned a nozzle. “It’s time for anticipation to become reality. Sorry I won’t be able to see it. But I’ll be able to imagine …

“I’ll be back in a moment. I have a few things to do before I leave you.” He turned, opened the door, and was gone.

Gone? What the hell was he doing? It was a complete shock that he—

And then she heard it.

First a trickle, and then a gushing.

Water.

*   *   *

KENDRA’S PHONE RANG WHEN SHE and Lynch had just left the FBI office for City Heights.

Let it be Sam telling her that he’d narrowed down the area where they could find Beth.

“Time’s up, Kendra,” Colby said.

She stiffened with panic. “No, it’s not. You can’t do that. I have another forty-five minutes.”

“He who holds the power makes the rules, or breaks them. According to what he decides is most amusing.” He chuckled. “But, as it happens, I still may slide under the time limit I gave you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, I started your Beth’s death gasp, but it won’t take effect for a bit. I wanted it to be very slow. Anticipation, you know.”

“I don’t want to know. What did you do to her?”

“Why, I spent the past twenty-four hours preparing her, and now she’s waiting for it to happen.” He paused. “But probably not patiently. She fought me to the very end. She didn’t want me to tell you how hard she had to struggle.”

“Did you hurt her?”

“Yes, not in the way I hurt Stokes, but the mental torment was considerably worse.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“You mustn’t speak to me like that. I’m complimenting your Beth. I actually grew to admire her.”

“Then let her go.”

“Oh, no, you’ll have to go and get her. But we both realize there’s a time restraint, and I’ve put a small obstacle in your path.”

“Tell me where she is.”

“Suppose I show you. I’ve grown so fond of all these computer bells and whistles that Northrup installed for me. A picture tells more than a thousand words. Do you have your computer?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you would. Turn it on.”

She switched on the computer. “You’re wasting time. Stop stalling and—”

The picture came in clear and bright.

“Dear God, what are you doing?”

Water. Water gushing. Flooding the floor, lapping against the walls and the shelves and the first rungs of the metal embalming table where Beth lay bound.

“You can see what I’m doing. I made sure of that. I kept Beth in the dark so that she would be disoriented but I wanted you to know instantly what was going on.”

“You’re going to drown her.”

“Yes, some people say that drowning is an easy death. I don’t agree. Particularly when you’re expecting the suffocation and lung failure. I made certain that Beth would know what to expect.”

She closed her eyes as the horror hit home. Then she forced herself to open them and look back at the video. “How long does she have?”

“Perhaps the forty-five minutes I gave you.”

“How do I know she’s not already dead, like Stokes was?”

“I never promised that the Detective Stokes show was a live broadcast. Trust me, I want you to see your friend die as it happens.”

She believed him. Colby was just that sick.

“But give me a number, and I’ll have our Beth hold up the same number of fingers so you can have your proof of life.”

“Four,” Kendra said.

After a few seconds, Beth flashed two peace signs from her restrained hands.

“There you are,” Colby said. “But I guarantee you, as clever as your Sam Zackoff may be, I’ve made sure he won’t have time to trace this webcast. Good-bye for now, Kendra. This is the last time we will speak for a while.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re wasting time. Good-bye.”

He cut the connection.

On her laptop, Kendra watched as Colby waded through the shin-deep water toward Beth. He leaned over her and said something inaudible.

“What in the hell is he doing?” Kendra said.

Colby pinned what appeared to be a rolled-up freezer bag to Beth’s sweater. Then he stepped out of the frame.

Kendra’s cell phone rang again. She answered it on speaker, this time it really was Sam.

“He called you, didn’t he?” Sam asked.

“How did you know?”

“I’m watching it here. I cloned your computer, remember? I’m forwarding it through my server to the FBI and the police. They’re in the City Heights area, so now they’ll have a description of the clothing he’s wearing.”

“Providing he doesn’t change clothes. Colby thinks of those details.”

“But they’re also looking for his van. Put them both together and—”

“That’s one advantage we do have,” Lynch said. “He doesn’t know we have the name he’s using, or the make and license-plate number of the vehicle he’s—”

“None of that is going to do any good if we can’t get to Beth in time,” Kendra interrupted. “He’s killing her.” She added unsteadily, “Sam, you have to find him. He was so sure that even you wouldn’t be able to trace him in time to save her.”

“Then I have to prove him wrong, don’t I? Because we have to find her.” He paused. “But I was thinking while the bastard was spouting off that we may have a third advantage. In the years since Colby went away to jail, much of San Diego County went from water company meter readers … to a central-office networked-based system.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning … there’s another possibility. I’ll call you back.” He hung up.

“Another possibility,” Kendra repeated. “Let’s hope it’s a good one. Colby was so sure.”

“He’s an egomaniac. Of course, he’s sure,” Lynch said. “That doesn’t mean he won’t be wrong.”

“No,” Kendra said. “But it tends to shake the confidence.” Her hand was trembling as she reached for her phone again. “I have to call Griffin and make sure he noticed that video shows that Beth is being held in a cellar. I couldn’t tell before in the other videos because he only had close-ups. But this time he wanted me to see how helpless she was and the rising water, so he panned around the place. The walls are tarred and there were stairs leading upward. It’s a cellar. It will make a difference. We’re looking for a house with a cellar.”

“Griffin will probably have noticed,” Lynch said quietly.

“I have to be certain.” She started dialing. “I’m not as confident as Colby. Nothing else must go wrong.” But it might go terribly wrong if Sam or Griffin didn’t come through for Beth. “Get me to City Heights. I’ll ask Griffin to give me addresses of all houses in the area with cellars and eliminate searching any of the others.”

*   *   *

SAM PUT DOWN THE PHONE AFTER talking to Kendra and turned to Eve. “Evidently I’m about to be brilliant.” He added soberly, “Good wishes and prayers will be appreciated.”

“Good. And you’ll have them. But I can’t stay here and just spin my wheels, Sam.” She picked up Kendra’s remote key fob from the desk. “Kendra left her car here for me to use. I’m going to City Heights. If that’s where Beth is, that’s where I need to be.”

Sam unplugged his laptop. “Me, too. Let’s go. I’ll work in the car.”

A few minutes later, Eve was driving away from the Lynch house and glanced at Sam in the seat beside her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You can drive as fast as legally or illegally possible to get us to City Heights.” His head was bent over his computer. “And let me concentrate on finding one of those houses in the area that’s registering a hell of a lot of water pouring out of the pipes into it.”

“You can do that?” She made a face. “What am I thinking? Of course you can do it. You’re going to hack into the Department of Water and Power usage.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to wait and try to cut through red tape in that bureaucracy.” He was rapidly typing into the computer. “It could take days…”

And they had only minutes, Eve thought. It had terrified her when she had seen Beth bound on that table when they had watched Colby’s video to Kendra. Beth had looked so … helpless.

It was still terrifying her.

She drove slowly, watching the GPS, waiting for Sam to say something.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She swerved onto the shoulder of the congested I-15 freeway and glanced over at Sam. “Anything?”