Kinnian Dar glanced up with a scowl from the holomap laid out before him. “On schedule, then. Good enough.”
Trevyn indicated the map. “Have you found the place?”
Kinnian sat back and scratched at the thick black beard covering his jaw. “You couldn’t find Felzac’s ass on these maps. I can’t tell whether it’s that there are no roads or towns or landmarks, or that the map doesn’t include them. This . . . North Da-ko-ta . . . looks like an uncharted planet in the Outer Reaches.”
Trevyn helped himself to ale from the pitcher that sat on the counter next to the desk. He sat and stretched out his long legs.
“The information that Sennik provided is no help?”
“Sennik!” Kinnian nearly spat. “That overevolved slimehog has done nothing but make my life a living hell. If the credits were not so good on this job, I would throw it back in his moony face.”
Trevyn ignored his brother’s outburst and stuck to the point. “I assume the target had an identification chip.”
“The target’s chip was removed when he was repatriated by Rescue, of course, but even so it was specially encrypted.” Kinnian frowned at the map. “I have his original identifying information from Sennik—it was kept separately from that of the other slaves in the Del Origa facility.”
“Why?”
“How the fuck should I know? Sennik plays his little games with the slaves; that’s his business. All I know is that the information he gave me isn’t helping me find the fucking piece of dirt the brat was whelped on.”
“You’re thinking Rescue would have sent him back to relatives near where he was born?”
“Of course. Where else?”
Trevyn swallowed a mouthful of ale. For some reason it left a bitter taste on his tongue.
“Give me the boy’s name. The humans have an antiquated communications delivery system. In such a sparsely populated area, it should be easy to find others with his name. I’ll have a location for you in less time than it takes to fuck a whore.”
Kinnian smiled, an expression Trevyn knew meant no good for those they hunted. “My brother! You continue to be of such tremendous use to me.”
Gabriel had been brooding for the two hours it had taken them to close in on the address Rick had given her over the phone. Lana thought once or twice to ask if he was all right, if he’d gotten bad news from home or some tragedy had befallen the world while she was out on the porch talking with Rick, but his silence was a wall she couldn’t begin to scale. There was something on his mind, something dark that was usually buried deep and kept away from prying eyes. She left him alone until they got within a few miles of the little town where the witness lived.
“Hey, do me a favor.” She turned on the GPS navigator on her dash and waved at the controls. “Are you familiar with one of these?”
Gabriel peered at it, his brows drawn together. “I’m familiar with its function.”
Lana glanced at him. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She flipped her notebook open with one hand and pointed to a scrawl halfway down the page. “That’s the address. Enter it in the navigator for me.”
When he hesitated, she gave him the sequence of instructions. It took him a minute, but he finally accomplished the task and looked back at her with a grin.
“If I’d known you wanted directions, I could have gotten them for you in half the time.”
“Your phone has a nav app?”
“What?”
“Nav app. GPS. On your phone.”
“Oh. Right. Yes.”
Lana turned her eyes back to the road, but her attention remained on the puzzling man in her passenger seat. There had been times in this strange day when she’d felt so connected with Gabriel it was as if they’d known each other all their lives. Then there were the moments, like this one, when it seemed as if he’d come from another planet. He didn’t seem to understand the most basic things, and yet he knew things it should have been impossible for him to know. He was so unlike any other man she’d ever met. And she was drawn to him in a way she’d never experienced before. She had no idea if the irregular leaping heartbeat she kept feeling was a result of legitimate fear or unthinking exhilaration. Or both.
At least the distraction of the navigator had lifted his mood for the time being. He even smiled as the feminine voice of the device instructed them to turn off the main highway onto a secondary road.
“It talks.” He seemed captivated.
“Saves the driver squinting at the dashboard and causing a ten-car pileup.” Lana shook her head. “Yes, it talks. You don’t get out much, do you?”
His smile grew wider. “Technology is not my field of specialty.”
Why did she get the feeling there was something left unsaid in that comment? “I’d have to agree with you there, though just what we could call your specialty, I wouldn’t know.”
Gabriel grunted and turned back to the window. They were within a few turns of their destination now and a strategy had to be decided upon.
“Let me take the lead on this,” Lana said. “We’ll see how much this . . . Mrs. Clark . . . remembers on her own first.”
Her companion looked at her. “If you say so.”
“Gabriel, I don’t feel comfortable having you probe this woman—”
“Is that what you think I do?”
“Isn’t it?”
When he didn’t answer, Lana glanced in his direction. His face was unreadable, but his eyes, when they turned to meet hers, flashed with what looked like anger.
“I would ask her to show me what she saw. That’s all. Unlike Ethan’s case, where the memories had to be retrieved from deeper in the mind, this woman is more than willing to tell us what she remembers. It’s right there on the surface for the taking. I could do it without her being aware of it, but I wouldn’t. Do you know why, Alana?”
She pulled up in the woman’s driveway and stopped, waiting to hear the rest of it.
“Because I think it’s wrong.” He held her gaze for a heartbeat, plenty of time to make her burn with shame. “Are we clear on this?”
“Yeah, we’re clear.” It was an apology. “When I’m done, I’ll leave and let you speak with her alone.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
The two of them left the car and approached the tidy ranch house together, but Lana led the way up on the covered front porch to ring the doorbell. A small, determined bark sounded inside, followed within seconds by a female voice, telling the dog to “shush!” The door swung open to reveal a short, plump woman of about 70 in a Graceland tee-shirt and polyester pants. A tiny, white poodle circled her feet, pausing occasionally in its dance to bark at the visitors.
Mrs. Clark gave them a ten-megawatt smile and opened the storm door to invite them in. “Y’all must be the FBI folks! The young man on the phone said y’all would be coming. I’m Kathy Clark. Come on in and sit down.” She ushered them into a living room that was J.C. Penney’s idea of French provincial, mixed with a few pieces of Americana from Grandma’s attic. “Would you-all like something to drink? It’s awful hot out. I can get you some lemonade or a cold drink.”
“No, ma’am, no, thank you.” Lana pulled out her credentials and notebook and took a seat on the damask sofa. “I’m Special Agent Alana Matheson. This is Gabriel Cruz.”
Gabriel gave the woman a smile that would have melted the heart of any heterosexual female between the ages of three and 103 and murmured a hello before he sank into the chair next to the sofa. Mrs. Clark’s cheeks blushed a girlish pink. Lana could tell she was completely won over as soon as Gabriel reached down to pet the dog.
“You called some information in to the Amber Alert hotline this afternoon, Mrs. Clark, is that right?” Lana eased her into it, as if they had all the time in the world. “Can you tell us what you saw?”
The woman was distracted; her poodle had settled at Gabriel’s feet. “Why, I’ve never seen Pookie do that with anyone before!”
Gabriel shrugged. “I have a wa
y with pets.”
“Well, you surely do, Mr. Cruz.” Their witness seemed to recall why the FBI was in her living room and turned to Lana. “Oh, yes. Well, I was walking Pookie at the rest stop.”
“This was the rest stop at mile marker 114 on I-40, west of Memphis?”
“Yes, that’s right. Last night about ten o’clock. My husband, Harold, and I were coming back from seeing my sister in Little Rock.”
Lana looked up from her notebook. “Mrs. Clark, I hate to stop you, but that rest area is on the interstate headed west.”
The woman’s hand went to her throat and fluttered there. “Yes, that’s right,” she started, then followed with a rush of explanation. “But, you see, we’d passed the last rest area on our side a long time back, and there wasn’t another one for a while, and Pookie really needed to go and so did I, so I made Harold turn around in the median and go back, and I know that’s illegal except in emergencies, but this was an emergency, really it was.”
Lana ignored the grin threatening to break through Gabriel’s control. “Well, ma’am, next time you, uh, you might want to plan ahead.”
Mrs. Clark found her smile again and patted Lana on the knee. “Oh, thank you, honey, I’ll do that. So, anyway, Harold was in the restroom, and I was walking Pookie over in the grassy area, under these trees, away from everything, you know? I suppose that wasn’t very smart, being away from everything and everybody, but I wasn’t thinking about that. I was just thinking that Pookie needed to go. So I was out there, and all of a sudden I hear this loud sneeze—ah choo!—like that! And I look up and there’s a young woman about your age, dear, and a little boy about five or six, and a couple of big men with them. Then she sneezes again really loud, and it was like one of the men got kind of mad at her, I thought, and he almost pushed her in the back of this white van. And that’s why I noticed it, you know, because he seemed so mad, and the woman and the little boy were in the back of the van, but the men got in the front. That just seemed so odd.”
“Did you notice anything else about the men? Can you tell us what they looked like?”
“Well, no, I can’t say as I can, Agent Matheson.” She frowned. “They were awfully tall and, you know, they looked like those fellas on the wrestling. Big, you know. One of them was black, I think. But I was too far away to recognize them or anything.”
“What about the woman and the child. Did they appear to be injured in any way?”
“No, they looked all right to me. They weren’t tied up or anything. The little boy looked right brave.”
“And the van, Mrs. Clark—can you tell me anything about the vehicle? License plates? Identifying marks?”
“Oh, dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t see a thing on that van.” Mrs. Clark’s face reflected her distress. “It was just plain white, no writing or anything. And I’m no good with makes—I couldn’t tell you if it was a Ford or a Chevy. You know, I don’t even think they had plates on the front at all. Maybe just the back, but I didn’t see the number.” The woman actually wrung her hands. “I’m afraid I don’t make a very good witness, do I?”
Lana smiled reassurance at her. “You’ve done very well, Mrs. Clark. Just one more question. Did you see the van leave the rest stop?”
“Why, yes, they left before we did. They went out the other way, headed west. We turned around and went back east, of course.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Clark. This has been very helpful.” She glanced at Gabriel, who gave her a barely-perceptible nod. “Ma’am, would you mind if I used your bathroom?”
“Oh, certainly.” She rose to lead the way. “It’s right in here.”
Lana lingered in the floral-scented and pink-and-green wallpapered powder room for as long as she dared, trying to give Gabriel enough time with Mrs. Clark. When she came back to the living room, she found the two of them chatting like old friends.
“Mr. Cruz helped me remember a few things about last night while you were gone.” The woman’s sunny smile was full of pride. “He said you wouldn’t mind.”
“Oh, no, that’s fine.” Lana shot Gabriel a look. “Do I need to write anything down?”
“No, I think I have it.” Gabriel stood up.
Lana held out a hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Clark, you’ve been a terrific help.”
“Well, thank you for coming so quickly.” Mrs. Clark shook her hand, then Gabriel’s. “I sure hope you find those folks.”
“We will.” Gabriel’s dark eyes captured hers.
Shameless, Lana thought. Absolutely shameless. The older woman was blushing again as she showed them to the door, her poodle weaving in and out between her ankles. They said their goodbyes and got back in the car. Lana waited until they were out on the road before she asked Gabriel to account for himself.
“Well?”
He shook his head. “Not much more than she told us, I’m afraid. These men are being very careful. The vehicle has no distinguishing marks—it’s probably new. Mrs. Clark wasn’t wearing her glasses, so she couldn’t read the license plate or provide any details for the description of the men. They didn’t have their masks, but they still had dark glasses on, even though it was after sunset. One of the two had light hair, clipped very short. The other was black. The third was in the van, couldn’t get a look at him.”
“Shit. This was a wasted trip, then.”
“No. We’ve confirmed this is Asia and Jack. We know which way they’re headed. I might be able to learn more if I could see this place.”
“What, the rest stop?” Lana turned her head to stare at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Yes, of course, the rest stop.”
“First of all, once again, it’s a Federal crime scene, which, need I remind you, you’re not supposed to have access to. Secondly, it’s at least three hours’ drive from here, on the other side of Memphis.”
Gabriel shrugged. “If you need to go home, you could drop me at the nearest car rental.”
“As I believe you said recently, like hell.” Lana noticed she was making the turns that would take her in the direction of I-40 West, against her better judgment. What was it about the man that made her want to do things like this? “What do you need to see this place for anyway? It’s a freaking rest stop.” A flash of insight pulled her up. “Wait. You’re not looking for another gun, are you?”
He almost laughed. “No. I doubt we’ll find any tangible evidence this time.”
“Then, what?” She glanced from the road to his profile seeking some clue. “Damn it, Gabriel, you are the most puzzling partner I have ever had the misfortune of working with.”
One black eyebrow arched toward his hairline. “We’re partners now?”
“Hell, no, we’re not partners—not until you start telling me what the fuck is going on in that mind of yours.”
She could have sworn he looked startled for half a second, as if her comment surprised him. Then he sighed. “Alana. You won’t understand.”
Anger stirred in her chest. “You think I’m stupid?”
He gaped at her. “No! Far from it.”
“Then tell me. Because I’m getting pretty pissed off here.”
He ran a hand through his thick, black hair, an action that accented the waves framing his face and just touching his collar. Lana swallowed. Angry or not, she could hardly ignore that. She saw him take a breath.
“I have other . . . talents, Lana. I can sense things—electromagnetic markers, for example—even if the living being that left them has been gone awhile. It’s part of what makes me the tracker I am.”
Lana felt her world tilt off its axis. “Electromagnetic markers.”
“Yes.”
“You want to start by explaining that?”
He stared up at the roof of the car for a second, obviously unhappy, with himself or with her, she couldn’t tell. Then he looked back at her.
“Every living thing is distinguished by an electromagnetic signature or marker unique to that individual. They are as different as, say, fin
gerprints. Traces remain behind in a space an individual has occupied and can be detected with certain devices or by people with the appropriate psi talents.”
“Psi—psychic? That would be you?”
“Yes.”
“So, your psi talents make you a good tracker?”
“Among other things.”
She pinned him with an unrelenting stare. “Don’t stop now, you’re on a roll. What other things?”
He exhaled, a breath of sound in the intimate confines of the car. “I don’t just use my talents to find people. In the business, I’m known as an extractor. I find people, then I help them escape whatever difficult circumstances they find themselves in.”
Lana almost slammed her foot on the brakes. She wanted to bring the car—and this whole misbegotten day—to a screeching halt. Instead, she slapped her palm on the steering wheel and cursed.
“Holy fucking shit! And that’s what you plan to do when and if we find Asia and Jack, I suppose! Just waltz in there and rescue them, all on your own, a civilian, right from under the noses of the FBI, the State Police of what looks like at least two states now and whatever local police might be involved, huh? Are you freaking insane?”
She looked for a place to turn off, saw one up ahead and slowed down, pulling off onto the side of the road, gravel flying as she slid to a stop.
“Lana—”
“Don’t even start. I’m turning this car around and taking you back to Nashville right now. We’re done, Gabriel.”
He put a hand on her arm. “Wait a minute, Lana, please.”
She refused to look at him. Somehow she knew if she did, she wouldn’t be able to maintain the level of anger she needed.
“Damn it, Gabriel, you used me. You have to know I can’t possibly allow you to do what you’re thinking of doing.” She did look at him, then, hoping to convince him of the foolishness of what he was planning. “It’s not just that my job is on the line here—and for damn sure, my job is in jeopardy. If you’re thinking you can ‘extract’ two kidnap victims without bloodshed, you’re just plain crazy. The real world doesn’t work like that. Think of that woman. Think of her little boy. If these men are as professional as you say they are, do you think for one minute they’d hesitate to kill their captives if they suspect a rescue attempt?”
Trouble In Mind (Interstellar Rescue Series Book 2) Page 10
