by Jordan Dane
When she found a main thoroughfare, she took a risk and hailed a cab. She was already late. If she didn’t rush, the bank would be closed when she got there.
And without the contents of her safe-deposit box, she’d be dead in the water.
Sentinels’ Headquarters
“She tried to ditch us, but we picked her up again.”
“Where is she?” Donovan Cross asked the agent who headed the second surveillance team tracking Marlowe.
“Bank of America. We’ve got eyes inside the bank. She’s in the vault, accessing a safe-deposit box. What do you want us to do?”
Cross didn’t like the sounds of this. If Marlowe was like any other good agent, she had a plan to ditch her identity and become someone else. And the contents of her safe-deposit box would help her do that. He knew from personal experience that she’d have fake passports and IDs, cash from several countries, and myriad ways for her to stay off the grid. A seasoned field agent like Alexa Marlowe would have stashed plenty of ways for her to get very lost.
“Don’t let her out of your sight, do you understand?” Cross found it hard to keep the urgency from his voice.
“Copy that. When she leaves the vault, we’ll be on her sweet ass.”
“Just call me when she leaves.” Cross ended the call and tossed his cell onto Garrett’s desk.
Arrogant son of a bitch! Cross had more respect for Alexa than the pompous jerk following her, and he hoped he wouldn’t regret giving the assignment to a young agent with something to prove.
“What are you up to, Marlowe?” He sprawled in his chair and stared across Garrett Wheeler’s office. “And what have you got stashed at that bank?”
Cross had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer to that question.
Sentinels’ Headquarters
Twenty minutes later
“We lost her.” Donovan Cross hated failure, especially when he had to be the one to admit he’d underestimated Alexa Marlowe. “I had a team on her when she left headquarters, but she gave them the slip.”
“Do you think she knew she was being followed?”
The man on the other end of the line was his contact deep within the Sentinels’ organization, one of the anonymous members of the elite council who secretly ran the covert group from a discreet distance.
“In a word . . . yes. Bank video footage showed she entered the vault to access a safe-deposit box, but the surveillance team lost her coming out.”
“How is that possible?” The man on the phone asked the same question he had only moments ago.
“Apparently, she had a change of clothes and a wig in that box. She ditched the stuff she had on in a vault trash bin. And the disguise she used was good enough to give our team the slip when she left the bank. She was dressed like an old woman.”
Cross knew that field operatives could be real cagey and downright paranoid. If the hair on their necks got goosed, it wouldn’t matter if they actually saw anyone tailing them. They’d follow their instincts and get lost in a crowd. And they had the training to carry out that slick maneuver easily enough.
“What about her apartment?”
“The surveillance team had someone there, too, but she never showed. We still have it staked out, but I don’t think she’ll go there now.”
“This isn’t good, Cross. What are you doing to rectify the situation?”
“We may have a line on her. When I get something definitive, I’ll call you.”
Cross told the man how his surveillance team had scoured digital camera feeds from all over the city after they’d hacked into the municipal traffic system. They’d picked up Alexa again—once they knew what disguise to look for—and although they hadn’t pinpointed her exact location, they were getting close.
Very close.
“I don’t have to tell you how sensitive our operation is at the moment. Find her, Cross. Do it, now.”
After his call ended, Cross gritted his teeth. He hated losing. And Marlowe had bested him from day one, but with the success of the mission on his shoulders, that had to stop.
Outside New York City
10:40
P.M.
After Alexa felt safe enough, she grabbed a quick bite from a fast-food drive-through and hit a twenty-four-hour pharmacy before she found a place to spend the night. Without prying eyes, she changed her hair color to brown and took a quick shower. After a couple of hours’ sack time, she’d hit the road again. But before that happened, she checked in with Tanya Spencer, her only lifeline.
“Hey, it’s me.” Alexa didn’t say her name. “You got anything new?”
She’d used a prepaid cell, a number that Tanya wouldn’t know, but she figured the analyst would recognize her voice and take everything in stride like the pro she was.
“Yeah, I think I found something.” Tanya dispensed with the usual formalities of asking questions and kept her focus. “But it doesn’t make much sense.”
“What do you mean?” With a towel wrapped around her wet hair, Alexa sat on the corner of her motel bed, a room she’d paid for in cash.
“Someone with access to our internal resources is using satellite time to track a cell-phone GPS signal in Mexico. And as far as I can tell, no one at the Sentinels has an operation in that country. Normally, I wouldn’t make a big deal about this, but since we’re looking for anything out of the ordinary, it piqued my interest.”
“Do you have a name of the owner of the cell, or maybe the coordinates of that GPS signal?” she asked.
“No name, but I do have coordinates.” Tanya gave her a location outside Guadalajara, Mexico. “And I’ve got Seth Harper working this on the QT. With him being located in Chicago, he’s got no one looking over his shoulder to see what he’s up to.”
“Good call. Not many people connected to the Sentinels know Harper, and the guy can keep a secret.” Alexa tightened the towel that she had wrapped around her body. “So what’s near there? Can you tell if the signal is coming from a residence?”
“Did some digging on that. It’s not just a residence, it’s an estate, honey. And the property had a few layers of corporations heaped on top of the name of the real owner. I had to call in a few markers to dig that deep.”
“And? Who’s playing the shell game?”
“Manolo Quintanilla Pérez is the owner of record. He’s the head of a drug cartel, an upstart group that’s trying to make a name. What they lack in longevity, they more than make up for in brutality. A fun bunch.”
“So if you can’t find any record of this op, what makes you think Garrett is involved?” Alexa asked.
“My Logistics contact came up with those AWOL operatives who don’t have a specific assignment. And one name got my interest. Hank Lewis. Besides you, Hank is one of Garrett’s ‘go to’ guys. It’s just a gut feeling, but I think this is the thread of information we’ve been looking for. We may not get anything better, Alexa.”
For the first time since she had learned of Garrett’s disappearance, Alexa felt the pang of regret. Whatever Garrett was involved with, he hadn’t included her. He’d chosen Hank Lewis to confide in and lead the team that would back his play.
Why hadn’t Garrett asked her?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Tanya said after her silence left an awkward wake in the conversation. “And when we find him, you can ask why he was so bullheaded about not making you a part of his team, but right now we’ve got work to do.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Alexa took a deep breath and rubbed her temple. The tension headache that had started earlier in the day had gotten worse. “I’m going to Mexico, Tanya. I don’t think we’ve got another choice.”
“Honey, I knew you’d say that.”
Tanya had already worked out the logistics for her trip to Guadalajara. She’d leave at first light. If Garrett was in Mexico, she would find him.
She had to.
Northern Wisconsin
Jessie gulped down the last dregs of cold coffee f
rom a lidded styrofoam cup and ate what was left of the Cheetos as she drove through Wisconsin. With orange fingertips, she gripped the wheel of her rented Taurus sedan and watched the center stripes roll by under its high beams.
The sun had gone down hours ago, taking with it the last of the scenery worth seeing. Rolling green hills dotted with picturesque dairy farms and placid lakes that mirrored the waning sunset had been replaced by darkness and miles of self-doubt. She had plenty of time to think. In her state of mind, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
She had paid the price for getting a late start on her drive to La Pointe. Thinking of Seth had made the trip easier, but it was hard to ignore the nagging thoughts about her past. She had talked with Seth over breakfast and explained why she’d come to Chicago. And like she had expected, Harper had plenty of questions as they sat at his dining-room table.
“Do you really think this old case might give you a lead on your mother? That’s huge, Jess.” Harper leaned closer, elbows on the table, as he grabbed her hand. “I mean, how does that make you feel?”
Jess shook her head, and said, “I don’t know, exactly. After all this time, a part of me wants to know what happened, but maybe this will make things worse.”
If she had to let go of the only good memory she had—the only shining moment of the woman she believed was her mother—Jessie wasn’t sure she could handle that. Her whole life had been about abuse—what one sick man had done to her and what she had done to herself when she didn’t feel she deserved to be happy. Jessie wanted to believe she had gotten past it, but she knew that wasn’t true.
She never would.
“I can come with you,” Seth had offered. “I can have someone look after Floyd while we’re gone.”
“But what about that assignment you have with Tanya?”
Harper launched into geek speak, telling her about his new laptop, courtesy of the Sentinels. He had plenty of juice to keep in touch with Tanya Spencer on the road.
“My new laptop is ubersexy. I can stay connected with New York. No worries.” He squeezed her hand and fixed his gaze on her. “I just don’t think you should make this trip alone.”
Looking into Harper’s eyes made anything possible. Jess thought about his offer as they sat in silence. She’d have to keep her explanation simple and something Seth would understand. She would avoid telling him the real reason she needed to make the trek to Wisconsin alone, mostly because she didn’t want to hear the words come out of her mouth.
If her mother had anything to do with how she ended up with a serial pedophile, Jessie wasn’t sure how she would handle that. She’d rather face that reality alone and deal with it on her own terms. And if there had been a reason why she was never claimed by a family after her ordeal as a child, maybe Chief Tobias Cook might know what it was.
“I appreciate the offer, Seth, but I think this is something I’m gonna do on my own. I hope you understand.”
Of all people, Harper would understand her need to uncover the truth about her mother by herself. For years, he’d been dealing with the fragile relationship he’d had with his father while growing up. In her eyes, Harper’s father would always be a hero, but that hadn’t been the way Seth saw it.
His old man was a retired cop who had been an AWOL dad when Harper needed him. It didn’t matter that his father had sacrificed his personal life for the sake of his job. To a small boy, that didn’t matter. And in a strange show of irony that life often dished out, now Harper was responsible for his father’s care after dementia had sidelined him at a nursing home with no one else to take care of him. Seth had dealt with his burden on his own, too, even after he and Jessie had met and grown close. Sometimes, family problems hit too close to home to share with anyone.
“Yeah, guess I do. Family stuff can really mess with your head,” he said. “But I want you to call me, anytime. You hear?”
“Yeah, I will.”
“Don’t say that unless you mean it, Jessie. Swear to me.”
“Pinkie swear.” She raised her hand and offered her pinkie. When Seth took it with his, she added, “I’ll call you.”
Under the table, Floyd sprawled at her feet and groaned. When he moved, the dog passed gas. Jessie tried hard not to take it personally.
“Oh man, Floyd. Give it a rest, big guy.” Harper grimaced as he waved his hand. “Sorry about that. He must like you.”
“I’ll be sure and send him a thank-you note.”
Although Seth had covered up his disappointment well with a soft chuckle, his eyes mirrored everything he felt. She knew he was worried about her and had been disappointed she hadn’t asked him to come. In the end, he had to settle for feeding her, arranging for a reliable rental car, and stocking her sedan with Harper-worthy munchies. Field-tested eats, he’d called them. Jess didn’t get on the road until early afternoon and had nearly nine long hours ahead of her.
She’d arrive well after dark at a remote location she’d never been to. And the only ferry making the trek to Madeline Island stopped at midnight. If anything went wrong, it would be close, but lingering with Seth in Chicago had been worth it.
She ached, having to leave Harper behind. Even Floyd had grown on her. She tried to imagine living with someone else, especially someone like Harper. She kept odd hours, took risks, and had never answered to anyone. The abuse she had suffered in the past was a strong driver for the woman she had become. Could she change the way she looked at the world for him? Despite the fact that she loved Seth, how would she feel about sharing her life?
Self-doubt had always been her number one enemy. It was easier to picture Harper getting tired of her than the other way around. When anything good happened, her first response was to beat herself up over it. And things hadn’t changed much over the years. By the time she made it to Bayfield and the ferry, she had a wad of tension in her stomach the size of Floyd’s head.
“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” she muttered.
Jessie bought passage on the Madeline Island Ferry Line and pulled her vehicle onto the loading zone behind a guy in a red pickup. In no time, she was waved onto the ferry and told where to park. She could have stayed in her rental car for the half-hour ride to the island, but the moonlight dappled on the water was far too enticing. Jessie headed for the bow of the ferry and let the cool breeze tousle her hair.
In the distance, she saw the lights from La Pointe, a small town shining its beacon along the shoreline of Lake Superior. No big-city lights spoiled the incredible canopy of stars over her head. She took a deep breath and leaned against the railing, feeling incredibly small and inconsequential.
Whatever she learned the next day from Chief Cook would change everything she knew about her mother. She felt certain of that. She wanted to brace herself for what would come next, but she had no idea what that might be.
She had just begun to think her life had turned a corner, with Seth and Alexa and her best friend, Sam Cooper, in her life. And working for the Sentinels had been a step in the right direction, too. It meant she had a steady income and could leave behind her ratty Chicago apartment and the scumbags she had tracked for money as a bounty hunter, working one bail jumper at a time.
If she learned that her past was darker than she could have imagined, what new ways would she find to punish herself for coming from a crappy gene pool? Jessie shut her eyes when she felt the sting of tears. Wallowing in self-pity had its appeal, but the ferry had docked, and she’d arrived at La Pointe.
After she’d disembarked from the ferry, she got a better look at the small harbor town. The place wasn’t much more than a few dimly lit streets that intersected. A visitor would have to work damned hard to get lost.
Except for a few bars, La Pointe was closed for the night. Most of the other businesses were geared for the tourist trade. Gift shops, quaint cafés, realty offices, and motels with self-serve Laundromats lined the narrow streets. When she located the police station, it was on the main drag across from a diner and
a local watering hole, with a motel only a short walk away.
“Looks like I’ve struck the mother lode.”
Jessie pulled into a parking spot near a motel that had a flashing red neon sign claiming it had a vacancy. Once she got out of her car, the sound of waves ebbing against the shoreline haunted her memory like a tune she was desperately trying to remember. La Pointe had triggered something in her that she couldn’t quite put a finger on.
Only occasional laughter and jukebox music coming from a nearby bar interrupted her trip down memory lane. The remote location and the small size of the town made her wonder about her connection to it all. The place probably had a thriving tourist trade, and, during the day, it no doubt had its merits; but at night, it left her feeling lonely and on edge. Every shadow held demons from a past she needed to know more about.
How did you end up here, Beck?
Standing outside her car, Jessie looked around. There wasn’t much to see this time of night, but she got a real hinky vibe when she thought about living in a town like this. There’d be no place to hide from who you were, and everyone would know your business, or think they knew it. Living in a place like La Pointe would be a disaster for someone like her. That was why living with hordes of strangers, like she had in Chicago and New York, had been a major relief. Except for Sam and Harper, no one knew her story. And she could reinvent herself whenever she felt the need.
Jessie looked into the window of the motel office and saw the light of a TV cutting the shadows in a room behind the counter. Someone was up. Her hiking boots crunched gravel until she hit the wooden boardwalk in front of the motel. When she stepped inside the front door, a doorbell tinkled overhead. The cramped space was filled to the rafters with knickknacks for sale, small-sized containers of toiletries, gum, and breath mints, and plenty of snacks even Harper would endorse.
“You come off the last ferry?” The motel clerk stepped out from the room where she’d seen the TV.
Jessie spied the clerk’s name posted on a wall plaque behind the counter. Byron McGivens.
