Текст книги "Firestorm "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

8

I can't see you right now, Gillen. Perhaps in a day or two. Just be patient and—” Silver looked up as Kerry marched into the library and plopped down in the visitor's chair in front of the desk. “I'll call you back.” He hung up and stared warily at her. “May I help you?”

“You're damn right. It's been two days,” Kerry said. “And I'm tired of waiting for you to start teaching me something useful. I thought we'd agreed on what needed doing.”

“And I told you that I was running the show. Just be patient.”

“That's what you just told that Gillen person on the phone. I'm not buying it. While I'm being patient, Trask is probably setting up his next kill.”

“No doubt. But Fairchild's death had a sobering effect on the other people on Trask's hit list, and they're being much more careful. We have a little time.”

“But it doesn't make sense that we don't move ahead and—” She broke off as she saw he was staring at her with a complete lack of expression. It was like talking to a wall. “Damn you.” She stood up and started for the door. “I'm not going to wait forever. I want your help, but if you stall me much longer, I'll go after Trask on my own. I can't take this.”

Silver flinched as the door slammed behind her.

He had been expecting a blowup from her, but he'd hoped he could put it off for another day or so. Well, he hadn't gotten lucky. It had happened and now he had to deal with it.

A discreet knock and then George opened the door. “I beg your pardon, sir, but I ran into Ms. Murphy on the stairs. I'm forced to advise you that you're handling her with incredible stupidity.”

“Oh, am I? And would you like to tell me how I should handle her?”

“I wouldn't presume.” George shrugged. “Well, actually, I would. She's a woman who's used to action, and this inactivity is driving her crazy. I can fully sympathize.” He met Silver's gaze. “Because I feel the same way. So when are you going to get off your duff and do something?”

“I am doing something.”

“You'll forgive me, but I see no sign of it.” He added thoughtfully, “Yet I judge you to be a man who hates to spin his wheels. You could be telling me the truth.”

“Thank you.”

“Sarcasm isn't necessary. People who try to make a mystery of their lives should expect both skepticism and questions.”

“Mystery?”

George smiled. “I'm not really complaining. I enjoy a good whodunit. It stimulates my mind and imagination.” He turned to leave. “And I've been stimulated with some rather bizarre ideas since I met you.”

“Would you care to discuss them?”

“Presently.” He opened the door. “But I'm not your primary worry right now. I assume Ms. Murphy is important to you, and you may be losing her.”

“I won't lose her.”

“Such confidence. It makes one wonder on what it's based. . . .”

The door shut behind him.

Damn it all. Silver grimaced as he rose to his feet. George was too perceptive and his instincts were sharp. He was coming very close to the truth about Silver, and Silver didn't know whether that would be good or bad. Privacy had been a way of life to him for too long.

But George had been right about Kerry. He couldn't afford to lose her even though she might not be ready.

And it was too dangerous letting her simmer while he waited for the ideal time and situation to come together.

He might have to go for it.

Damn him.

She strode over to the window and stared blindly out at the driveway below. She should have known better than to try to budge Silver when she knew what an arrogant bastard he could be.

No, she'd been right to confront him. She hated this lack of control in their relationship, and she didn't like the idea of this delay. Trask might be moving closer to his next victim. How could Silver be so sure that they had time?

She was getting upset again. She should probably go for a walk or something and stop letting this impasse eat at her.

The hell she would. She wasn't going to trot meekly off and try to forget that she was right and Silver was wrong. She was feeling angry and hurt and helpless and there was no way she was going to stay that way.

She went to the closet, pulled out her suitcase, and tossed it on the bed.

There was a knock on the door. “Kerry.”

Silver.

She didn't answer it.

“Kerry?” He opened the door and stood watching her throw two T-shirts and underwear into the suitcase.

“May I ask where you're going?” He answered his own question. “For God's sake, be patient. You can't go after Trask by yourself.”

“I'm not going to be patient.” She threw a pair of jeans into the suitcase. “I'm going to do something.”

“What?”

“Oh, don't worry. I was angry with you downstairs. I'm not going to go after Trask and risk losing him.” She closed the suitcase and snapped the lock. “But I can't sit around and wait for you to teach me how to get to him. You just take your time. When you're ready, you come after me.”

“Where are you going?”

“Marionville.”

“The place where Trask grew up? Why? Surely you don't think he's gone to ground there?”

“No, but his roots are in that town, and I may learn something about him that wasn't in that dossier. Knowledge is power, and I need all the power I can get. I don't like feeling this ineffectual.” She gave him a fierce glance. “And don't tell me to be patient again. I'm sick of it.”

“I gathered that you were. What do you think you're going to learn?”

“How the hell do I know? Maybe the way he thinks. Maybe a clue to what makes him tick so that I can push the right buttons.”

“You do know there's a possibility you may be followed?”

“And that might not be bad either. At least it would mean something was happening.” She dragged the suitcase from the bed and started toward the door. “I'll see you when you get around to doing what you promised.”

“You'll see me before that.” He took the suitcase from her. “I'm going with you.”

“You're not invited.”

“I'm used to barging in where I'm not wanted. It's a way of life to me.” He opened the door for her. “So stop spitting at me and let's get going.”

“I don't need you. Ledbruk's agents aren't going to let me go anywhere without surveillance. If you think you're going to protect me, I can—”

“Oh, I know, you think you can protect yourself. Well, maybe you can. But that's probably what all of Trask's deceased targets thought,” he said. “Anyway, it wouldn't stop me from worrying, and I'm not going to go nuts wondering what's happening to you. I'd rather be on the spot and know.” He started down the stairs. “So are we going to take Sam?”

She stared at him for a moment before she slowly followed him down the stairs. “No, he'd be in the way. We'll leave him with George.” It was clear he was absolutely determined, and it didn't really matter whether he came with her or not. Maybe it would give him a nudge to start working with her. “I don't intend to be gone more than a day or two.”

“I noticed you didn't take much more than the bare necessities.” He put down her suitcase by the front door. “Now, can I trust you not to jump in the SUV and take off while I run upstairs and pack an overnight case?”

“What would you do if I did?”

“Go after you.”

She shrugged. “Then it would be a waste of time and effort.” She leaned against the door. “I'll wait for you.”

She's left the estate,” Dickens said when Trask answered the phone. “She and Silver took off about three hours ago in the SUV and took Highway 66 and then 81. They just crossed the West Virginia border. I followed them, but I had to be damn careful. The Secret Service was right on their tail.”

“Highway 81,” Trask said thoughtfully. “Now, why would they be going . . .” He started to chuckle. “Of course.”

“You know where she's going?”

“Yes, I know. It's always smart to know your enemy.”

“You want me to stay with her?”

“For the time being.” My God, Marionville. He hadn't been back to that one-horse town since he'd left it to go to Europe on his Fulbright scholarship. He'd thought he'd put those memories far behind him, but they were suddenly bombarding him. All the bitter humiliations and the delicious triumphs . . . “Yes, I want to know where she is every minute.”

“You can't touch her. I told you, she's being followed by—”

“I heard you. I'll get back to you.” He hung up.

Marionville.

He could visualize Kerry Murphy digging, searching, stirring the embers of long ago. The image was curiously alluring. Maybe that was her intention, to draw him into following her.

Marionville . . .

Drop me off at the local library,” Kerry said. If this tiny town had a library, she thought in discouragement. It was hardly a bustling metropolis. The sign they'd passed when they entered Marionville had laid claim to eleven thousand people, but that could have been an old sign. It appeared that half the stores were closed on the main street winding through the center of the town. “I want to go through back newspapers and see if I can find any reference to Trask.”

“How far back are you going?”

“All the way. I'll start the year he was born.”

“I doubt if he was into any shenanigans in the cradle.”

“I don't care. I want to know everything about him.”

Silver nodded. “Well, I noticed an elementary school when we first hit town. Schools and libraries usually go together.” He turned the corner and doubled back. “If we don't see the library, we'll ask at the school.”

“Okay.” She gazed out the window as they passed several small shotgun houses with peeling paint and rickety front porches. “This is depressing. It looks like the town's dying.”

“It probably is. Evidently when the mines closed down so did the town.” He pulled into the school parking lot and got out of the SUV. “I'll be right back.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Ledbruk's surveillance car was within view. “This shouldn't take long.”

She watched him go up the steps toward the front entrance. The elementary school was red brick but still managed to look as old and shoddy as the houses they'd passed. Had the town been this decrepit when Trask was growing up?

Silver came out of the school ten minutes later and walked up to her side of the SUV. “I found out the only local newspaper is the Marionville Gazette. It's been in business for the last seventy years. The library is two blocks from here. You turn left at the corner and it's on your right.”

“You're not coming?”

“I decided to check back records while I was in the office, and Trask went to grade school here. The chances were good since this is such a small burg. I thought I'd get copies of his records and then check out his high school. It's in Cartersville, about five miles from here.”

“They'll give you access to his records?”

“I'll persuade them. I'm a very persuasive guy.” He stepped back. “I'll call you when I'm done and you can pick me up.” He turned and went back into the school.

She scooted over into the driver's seat. That had been a stupid question. Of course Silver would be able to get the information. Persuasive was definitely an understatement.

The computer at the Marionville library was a dinosaur. She did a search on Trask. After the first hour the work went smoother. It was still slow but not excruciating. It took Kerry nearly thirty minutes just to stumble through the first year of Trask's life in the newspaper she'd chosen to access. Not that there was anything there but a birth announcement that Charles and Elizabeth Trask were now the proud parents of a healthy baby boy.

The next mention of Trask was when he won a local spelling bee at age seven. Two years later he came in first at a statewide science fair. There was even a picture of him holding the blue ribbon, with his parents beaming with pride. After that there were numerous mentions, as he took prize after prize that the academic community offered. Until the final awarding of the Fulbright.

She leaned back and rubbed her eyes. A brilliant student, a son to be proud of. No indications of any false steps. But this couldn't be the true picture. Trask couldn't have gone through his entire maturing years as a role model and then turned around and become a monster. The seed had to be there.

The seed.

She sat up straight in her chair.

And in this case the seed was the obsession that dominated Trask's life. Silver had said that it went back only fifteen years, but she had told him that she knew it went back much, much further.

She leaned forward and typed in one word.

Fire.

She didn't pick Silver up when he called her from Cartersville High School. “I've found something—I think. Call Ledbruk to come and get you. Check into a motel and call me and let me know where you are. I'll meet you there as soon as I'm done.”

“I'll get to a motel on my own. I don't want you left alone.” He paused. “I'm glad one of us has gotten lucky. With a few exceptions, all I've learned is that Trask was a golden boy.”

“I want to hear about those exceptions.” She glanced back at the computer screen. “I've got to go. I have two more years to cover and the library closes in an hour.” She hung up and leaned forward, her finger clicking on the mouse as she went through the newspaper page by page. She stiffened as her gaze fell on an article on the back pages of June 3.

There was another one. . . .

She pressed the print button.

So what did you find?” Silver asked when he answered her knock at his motel room. “It took you long enough.”

“I persuaded the librarian to keep the library open an extra hour.” She dropped down on the couch and handed him the papers in her hand. “And I didn't have to use any of your ‘persuasiveness.' All I said was please.”

“Sometimes that works too.” He looked down at the papers she'd handed him. “What's this supposed to be?”

“Articles about fires that occurred in Marionville and surrounding towns during the twenty years Trask lived here. I've marked the ones that interested me.” She rubbed her temple. “No, interested isn't the right word. Horrified is closer.”

“You think that Trask started these fires?”

“I told you that I sensed he'd started to be obsessed a long time before he made Firestorm his career. But I couldn't find anything in his background that indicated he was anything but Mr. Clean.”

Silver nodded. “The golden boy.”

“I still can't find any proof. And I don't even have the info to make a connection.” She grimaced. “So tell me about these exceptions you ran across in his school records.”

“There wasn't much.” He sat down across from her. “You look beat. Want to go out and get something to eat?”

“No, I want to make a connection, dammit. I want to know the bastard.”

He nodded. “You know he was brilliant. He was a fantastic student and made the effort to make himself likable to his teachers. But he wasn't the most popular kid with the other students. This was a tough, gritty mining town, and he was generally thought of as a king-size dork. There were a couple incidents when he went to the principal because kids were bullying him.”

She sat up straight. “Who?”

“Wait a minute.” He went to the bed and opened a folder he'd tossed there. “Tim Krazky. Fourth grade. The principal had a talk with the kid and that was the end of it.”

“Maybe. Any other problems?”

He flipped a couple pages. “He was beat up by one of the football players in high school. Dwayne Melton. The school was going to suspend Melton, but Trask stepped up and defended him. Which made Trask even more popular with the academia.”

“Dwayne Melton—” She jumped to her feet and took back the papers she'd handed him. “When did that happen?”

He glanced down at the record. “June fourth, 1979.”

She put the pages down on the table and frantically riffled through them until she found the one she was looking for. “October third, 1981.” She handed him the article. “Dwayne Melton died in a fire when the oil drum at the gas station where he was working blew up.”

“Two years later,” Silver said. “Trask would have had to be a damn patient kid.”

“Like a spider spinning his web. He had no intention of being caught. I doubt if Trask was even in town when it happened.” She went back through the other papers. “What was that other kid's name?”

“Tim Krazky.”

She found it. “Oh, shit.”

“Fire?”

“His house burned down and he and his entire family were killed.” She read the last paragraph. “No suspected arson. A kerosene space heater ignited the curtains in the living room.” She shook her head. “His entire family, Silver.”

“Less suspicious.”

She shivered. “Horrible.” She sat back down. “Give me those school records. I want to see who else offended that son of a bitch.”

He sat down beside her. “I'll read off the records. You go through the newspaper articles.”

They found only two more cases that were blatantly suspicious. A gym teacher who'd embarrassed Trask was killed in a private plane crash the year Trask left on his Fulbright scholarship. The principal who had not punished Tim Krazky for bullying Trask was burned to death when his car ran off the road and crashed into a tree.

“Patience again,” Silver murmured. “No wonder he wasn't suspected. He sat back, planned, and waited until his motives would have been forgotten before he went after them.”

“And there's no telling how many more people he killed over the years.” She gazed blindly down at the articles. “He was a perfectionist. He probably did some practicing before he went after his targets. Talk about bad seeds.”

“Isn't this enough for you?” He took the papers from her. “You're not going to know the bastard any better by unearthing his entire list of victims.”

“Yes, it's enough,” she said dully. “No conscience. Not even when he was a child. But clever. My God, how clever to avoid any hint of suspicion.”

“Then, if you're satisfied, why don't we go home tonight? This motel isn't the Ritz.”

She thought about it, gazing down at the articles. “No, I'm not satisfied. This is all too remote. I need to touch him. Feel what he was feeling.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

She shrugged helplessly. “I don't know. I just can't leave without—” She picked up the article about the death of Tim Krazky and his family. “Will you find out where this boy's house was located? I want to visit there tomorrow morning.”

“It was a long time ago. They've probably built something over the ashes.”

“Try.” She rose to her feet. “He must have hated that little boy to have destroyed his entire family to get to him. I want to see it, feel it.”

“No, you don't,” he said roughly. “It's going to tear you up. You can't even think about that fire without getting sick.”

“Then I'd better learn. I'd better learn everything about him and the way he thinks so that I don't flinch away every time he gets too close.” She moved toward the door. “And I can't do it by keeping my distance. What's the number of the motel room you booked for me?”

“Nineteen. It's next door.” He reached in his pocket and brought out a key. “Adjoining. You get spooked, you come running.”

“I won't get spooked. I'm too tired.”

“And you don't think Trask is near.”

“No, but what do I know? I can't even be sure I'd sense him.” She smiled mirthlessly. “That's what this exercise is all about. Getting inside his skin. Will you help me?”

“You know damn well I will.” He turned and picked up the phone. “Though it's going to be difficult to find out anything at this time of night. Towns this small roll up the streets by eight o'clock.”

“Call George. He'll consider it a challenge.”

“That's who I'm calling.” He smiled. “You must have read my mind.”

“God, I hope not. The only mind reading I want to do is Trask's.” She paused before admitting, “Actually, you've already helped a good deal.”

“Of course I have. We're in this together.”

“That's true.” She gave him a cool glance. “And I probably never would have decided to do this if you'd helped me in the beginning.”

“Maybe. But Trask is becoming an obsession with you. Somewhere along the road you'd have wanted to visit here.”

“He's not an obsession. I just want to be prepared for—”

He held up his hand. “I've no objection to you being obsessed. It can only help me. It was just a comment.”

“Trask is the one who's obsessed. I'm just trying to—” She drew a deep breath. “It could be you're right. At any rate, I'm feeling too blasted helpless.” She opened the door. “The situation has to change. Good night, Silver.”

Obsession.

She didn't permit herself to think about Silver's words until she'd let herself into her room and closed the door. She'd said Trask was the one who was obsessed, but ever since that first contact with him she'd been driven. Was it possible that when she'd been drawn into Trask's sick mind, she'd not really been able to free herself? Perhaps some of his poison still lingered.

She shuddered at the thought. The idea of being a part of Trask in any way was a horror.

But the idea of being unable to stand against him in another encounter was worse. Screw worrying about Trask's influence on her. Just take one day at a time, one step at a time, and tomorrow she'd sink deep into his past and the filth she'd uncovered.

Fire.

Screams.

Tim Krazky and his family trapped in that burning house.

Jesus, she hoped she could take it.

The Krazky family had not lived in town. Their farmhouse had been located on the Oscano River five miles from Marionville. It was a pretty site, surrounded by Bartlett pear trees.

But the ruins of the Krazky house were not pretty. Even decades later the foundations were still crumbling, blackened, and scorched. A brick chimney was the only part of the house that still stood.

“I was surprised that the ruins were still here,” Silver said as he parked the car. “I guess the heirs couldn't get a buyer in such a poverty-stricken area. Or maybe they didn't have the heart to disturb the site of a family tragedy. Do you want to get out and walk around?”

“Yes.” She already had her door open. “But you don't have to come with me.”

“I'll come. Why shouldn't I—” He stopped. “You don't want me to come. Any reason?”

“I don't think . . .” She shook her head. “I don't know. I just want to be alone to . . .” She got out of the car. “I won't be long.”

“Wait a minute.” He glanced around the area. “It's pretty open. No place for anyone to hide.” He nodded. “Okay, don't go out of sight.”

“Why would I do that? Everything I want to see is here.” She walked toward the ruins. It was even more desolate at closer view. Patches of grass were struggling for life among the rotting timbers. That pitiful effort to overcome the destruction only underscored the brutality of the fire that had ravaged the house.

Five people had died on this spot. A family had lived and clung to one another the way families did all over the world. Had they clung together that night when they were trapped in Trask's inferno? Or had they died separately in their beds, suffocated by the deadly smoke? She felt suffocated herself at the thought, suffocated by horror and sadness and anger.

“Okay?” Silver called from the car.

She straightened her shoulders. “I'm fine.” She stepped over a timber and made her way toward the chimney. She wasn't fine. She wanted to get away from here and the memory of Tim Krazky and the hell he'd brought down on his family by offending Trask.

Stop whimpering. Do what you came to do. Think about Trask. Think about what he did. Imagine what he'd feel. Remember that night she'd touched him, and bring it all together. Learn him.

She reached out and tentatively touched the brick of the chimney. It was warm from the sun. It wouldn't have been warm that night. It would have been hot. Hot from the flames.

Hot. Hot. Hot.

Screams.

Lousy son of a bitch. Burn in hell.

No, burn here tonight.

They were trying to get out the front door, but he'd thought of that and tied a hemp rope to the doorknob and fastened it to the porch post. He'd anticipated everything, he thought proudly. Yesterday when they were at church he'd gone to every window and painted them shut, and tonight he'd crept into the house and started the fire first in Krazky's parents' room so that they'd be overcome with smoke first. Then all he'd had to do was wait here and make sure that that asshole, Tim, didn't manage to break a window and get out. But he'd seen no sign of Tim, and now the house was full of smoke. It wouldn't take long before they were too weak to—

He could see a face at the window. Tim's sister, Marcy. Crying. Beating her fists on the glass. She'd always had more guts than Tim. Where was Tim? Probably hiding under a bed.

Marcy was sliding to the floor, her hands clutching at the windowsill.

No more pounding on the glass.

He hurried across the porch and loosened the rope he'd tied around the doorknob. Then he ran around the back and untied the kitchen door.

The house was blazing. He could feel the heat on his face as he stared at the conflagration.

Die, you bastard.

He wished he could smell the oily prick's flesh as it burned. He'd only smelled burning flesh once before. Those two hoboes sleeping in the woods he'd set on fire last year when he'd been experimenting with ways to get at Tim. The scent had been like roast pig, only curiously different, more pleasing. Maybe if he broke a window, he could—

No, he had to get across the river to the woods and then home. Someone might have seen the blaze by now. Though he'd made sure there would be no way to rescue them in time. He'd burned the telephone wire leading into the house earlier in the evening. Tim's father had almost caught him when he went outside with the garbage.

Garbage. They were all garbage now. Less than garbage.

The water was cold as he left the bank and started across the river. But he didn't feel cold. He felt flushed and full of strength and exhilaration.

He'd done it.

So easy. The fire had taken care of everything. Killing. Destroying. Like a wonderful genie who had popped out of the bottle to do his bidding.

He looked over his shoulder, and his heart started pounding with excitement again.

Flames. Beautiful, beautiful, flames—

“Kerry.” Silver was shaking her. “Kerry, what the hell?”

Fire. Let the prick burn in—

“Kerry?”

Fight it.

“I'm . . . okay.” She jerked away from Silver. But then she had to lean against the chimney as her knees gave way. The brick was warm again, not hot like that night when—

Fight it.

“Tell . . . Ledbruk. Trask.” She had to stop to steady her voice. “The woods across the river. He's there now.”

“What?”

“Don't . . . ask me . . . questions. Just get someone across the river.”

He glanced across the river. “And get you back to the car.” His hand was beneath her elbow, pushing her across the ruins. “You're sure that—”

Hot. Hot. Hot.

“Do you think that I was communing with some kind of childhood spirit?” she asked fiercely. “There's no reason I'd suddenly be able to pull that off when I've never been able to do it before. I tell you, it was him. He has to be there. He felt safe in those woods that night. He'd feel safe hiding there watching us. He must have followed us from the motel. Call Ledbruk.”

“I'm calling him.”

She hadn't noticed he had his phone out and was dialing.

“Hurry. He's there. I know he's there.”

“Easy.” He opened the passenger door. “Get in and out of sight.”

She collapsed into the passenger seat and listened dazedly as he talked to Ledbruk.

“They're on their way,” he said as he hung up. “But the bridge over the river is five miles away.”

“He didn't take the bridge that night. He swam across.” She took a deep breath. “I don't feel him any longer.”

“Try.”

“Dammit, I am trying. I tell you, I don't feel him any longer. He's not there.”

“It's a long way.” He gazed at the woods across the river. “You lost him fairly quickly when he started moving away in the other two encounters. I'm surprised you could sense him at all at that distance.”

“So am I. It must be because this memory was so important to him.” She added bitterly, “It was his first kill and he was half out of his mind with joy. He didn't count the two hoboes. They were just a learning experience.” She straightened in the seat. “Let's go after Ledbruk. Maybe I can help.”

“I don't like the idea of you getting any closer to that bastard.”

“I'm not afraid. He doesn't like to make any moves without preparation and he doesn't take chances. He had this fire planned down to burning the telephone wires so that no one would suspect he'd cut them.”

“That doesn't mean he might not change. He followed you here. That was a big chance. Why would he do that?”

“I don't know.” Her hands clenched. “I don't know everything. Maybe he was looking for a chance to take his shot at me. Perhaps he thought it was worth running the risk. Let's go ask him. That's what you want to do, isn't it? Forget about me. You know Trask is the only thing important to you right now.”

He didn't speak for a moment, and she could see a myriad of expressions crossing his face. “Hell, yes.” He shrugged and started the car. “I'm glad you reminded me. What was I thinking? Let's go get him.”

Trask was no longer in the woods by the time they got across the bridge. Ledbruk's agents were scouring the area when Silver drew up behind their car.

“You're sure you saw him?” Ledbruk was frowning as he walked toward them. “How the hell could you tell it was him from that distance?”

“I could tell.” Kerry got out of the car. “He was here.”

“Past tense,” Ledbruk said sourly. “I've got a bad feeling that we've missed him again. God, I'm tired of it.”

Kerry had the same feeling. “You're probably right. He knows this countryside. He grew up here.” She gazed at the heavy thatch of trees. “But you've got to try.”

“Do you think I don't know that?” Ledbruk said. “I do my job. No stone unturned to find that snake.” He turned and walked away.

“He's not in the best humor,” Silver said. “Not that I blame him. He's done as well as he could, and it must be frustrating as hell to be let in on only part of the picture.” He glanced at her. “Any vibes?”

She shook her head. “I don't think he's here.” She leaned back in the seat. “But we're not leaving until Ledbruk confirms it.”

“Suits me.” He gazed after Ledbruk. “We'll wait until he gives up on the bastard.”

Ledbruk didn't give up for another four hours. “No sign of him. I'll leave two men here to keep searching, but I don't believe they're going to find him. You might as well go home.”