Page 52 of Thorn

“And he was chasing her to France, why?” Gage asked.

“Again, the obvious reason would be that she is disabled and could get herself into a life-threatening situation. Roxanne said that normally Juliette wears a tracker at home.”

“Like for someone with dementia?” Gage asked.

“It was on a bracelet that also had her contact information and medical records. She wore it so that if Juliette went somewhere on her own with Toby, and didn’t get home in a certain amount of time, Roxanne could go out and find her. Juliette can become cognitively and visually disoriented. And she can lose her hearing − not all the way − but so that conversations aren’t possible.”

“Right. No hearing aids. Does she know sign language?” Honey asked.

“She does. So lucky you that you’re required to have some basic skills in that. When you find her that might be helpful.”

God, that sounds like a difficult life,Thorn thought.Especially without much of a support system – old friends, a larger family…

Thorn came from a big family. Five boys. Tons of cousins. They leaned on each other. Sometimes, he just took it for granted that everyone had that kind of support. Family behind them. A team like the Panthers behind them. Juliette had DuBois and this Roxanne person.

Thorn shifted in his seat. He was done gabbing. He wanted to be out prowling the streets, finding Juliette, making sure she was okay, not just from the kidnappers who might still be on her trail, but from anyone who might want to take advantage of a woman in a physical crisis.

When he looked up, he found Lynx’s eyes hard on him. There was a trace of worry between her brow. A slow nod of her head. Thorn wished she’d share that thought. There was conviction behind it whatever it was. He thought if they were alone, she might just tell him, instead he said, “All right, let’s get on it. Any crumbs to lead us toward her?”

“We didn’t have a license plate, but I tracked cab destinations from the taxi queue at the time we saw her in line. I called each of the hotels where they took their fares. No Juliette DuBois. But Lynx had suggested that I also ask for Roxanne Olsen, probably the safest name for someone with Juliette’s brain injuries to use. And she was right. We have Juliette registered as Roxanne atPetit Coin, a hotel in the nintharrondissment. I put a satellite on the place with a computer watch, and I haven’t mapped her coming or going. We have to assume that Juliette went to bed and hasn’t gotten up and mobile yet today.”

“She took Roxanne’s ID?” Honey asked.

“Her caregiver is African-American,” Lynx told him. “I’d say that was a no. She’s just using her caregiver’s name. Taking Roxanne’s I.D. would be significant though, it would show premeditation for going to ground. I really don’t think that’s the case here. Based on her behaviors, I’d think she would have been better prepared.”

“We hacked thePetit Coincomputer system,” Nutsbe said. “Juliette paid for a week in-full using a gift card and left a two-hundred-euro cash deposit. I’m assuming that’s because she didn’t have a credit card to give them.”

Thorn pulled that name up on his map app. After giving it a look, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and reached out to tap his teammates. “Okay, Lynx and Nutsbe – if there’s nothing else, we should move.”

Chapter twenty-Seven

Thorn

Paris, France

Sunday, Zero Nine Forty-five Hours

Gage drew their car into the alley behind the hotel.

They dropped their comms into their ears, wrapped their microphones around their necks and did a sound check.

“No comings or goings of anyone who might be Juliette?” Thorn would normally call her their “mark,” but that felt like putting her into his crosshairs and seemed impossibly wrong. “Lynx said that Juliette had good days, so she might not be on crutches or staggering.”

“Nothing to report,” Nutsbe said. “I loaded up the schematics. She’s on the third floor in a back bedroom. You shouldn’t have much in the way of foot traffic getting in your way.”

The team opened the file on their phones. “Those halls and rooms look mighty narrow,” Honey pointed out.

“You may have to duck and walk sideways, Honey,” Nutsbe said. “But the other guys should fit just fine.”

“It sounds like he’s joking,” Gage said. “But looking at this, he’snotkidding.”

Thorn held his phone in the flat of his hand, so the team was all looking at the same view. “I’ll walk around, go in the front door, and make my way up this stairway. Gage and Honey, it looks like someone propped open the back door.” He lifted his chin toward the building. “Why don’t you take the back stairs?”

“Roger that,” Honey said. “Just give us a heads up as you get in there.”

Thorn climbed out of their rental car. He snagged his day bag, a lower profile backpack. Between them, they’d chosen the equipment most likely to be of help on a mission like this. Their duffels were in the trunk, their computers hidden beneath the seats, trackers on, and just in case, Nutsbe had placed a computer lock on the car from his satellite image.

Thorn sauntered down the alley, around the corner, and up to the hotel’s front door. The awning cast a shadow across the building where a sign hung on the window indicating they’d be back at ten hundred hours.

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