Page 44 of Burn

Voodoo had proven a theory that just planning takeout didn’t mean we could skip on the bill. They would come looking for it.

She had a tracker.

A string of invectives fell as I pulled up the server that let me track the guys when they were out. These trackers were specific to our phones. Easier to never leave anyone behind if we knew where they were.

Same for Doc, but we kept that part to ourselves. He rarely left Braxton Harbor and his clinic. If he did, however, and needed us, we’d find him. It was why we’d gone the moment he called us about the trucks and the passengers.

Three offers were in the inbox. I ignored that for now as I zeroed in on Voodoo’s phone. They’d have been on the road for hours, and they’d be nowhere near here. So where were they?

They weren’t far from St. Louis, Missouri. What the hell was in St. Louis? We had a handful of connections there, including at least two certified physicians within The Network. Another swallow of coffee, as I tracked Voodoo’s phone by tower pings.

It was stationary.

Clinic.

I ground my teeth but kept my eye on the prize. The clinic had a decent system, but they allowed you to log in from beyond the firewall to see what was going on.

It took me ten minutes to get in. I’d need to shore those up before I left, for now, I flipped through the camera angles.

Reception.

Waiting room.

Hall.

Doctor’s office.

Exam rooms—only external cameras for each door.

I pulled up three windows to keep an eye on all of them while I checked the lot outside of the clinic. There was Voodoo’s Jeep.

It looked fine, no signs of visible damage. I flicked a look back to the other three as an exam room door opened. The angle wasn’t great, but I caught Voodoo’s profile.

They were in exam room two.

Since I was already in part of their system, I went digging into the patient files. I didn’t care about the others but I wanted to see who’d been checked in recently. The door was visible and the colored flag was set to red. That usually meant occupied.

Brittany Talbot. She did not look remotely like a Brittany. She was there for possible illness, flu or pneumonia. Smart, that meant he brought her in masked. Reduced the chances of her being identified.

The doctor was talking to one of the nurses, then he went down the hall and disappeared into his office. He wasn’t there long before he returned to the exam room. The patient in there left. The patient in one didn’t make an appearance.

A nurse didn’t join the doctor in the room with Voodoo and Gracie. That would fly in the face of protocol. Not that I was worried about the physician getting frisky. Voodoo wasrightthere.

Still, the other cameras showed the staff and patients trickling out. The doors locked. The clinic closed, and the whole time the door to exam room two stayed closed. Then it was just the doctor left and everything else was secure.

He opened the exam room door and Voodoo stepped out, his gaze tracked right to the camera. With care, I tapped a message to him using the red light. Instead of surprised, Voodoo just shook his head at me before he looked at the doctor again.

Then he held out a hand to the woman inside and I got my first good look at Gracie since Voodoo took off with her. She was pale. Paler than I liked to see. She also had a smudge on her cheek and she was dressed in an x-ray gown.

Oh, that was excellent. Probably trying to block any signal from the tracker. It had to be working, they were still in the clinic. If I had the right equipment, I could do a search for the signal and try to jam it.

The smell of burgers and peppers reached me a beat before Lunchbox did. He’d made his favorite. The man would put chilis on just about anything. It was fine, I didn’t mind them on my burgers.

“Found her,” Lunchbox said. “They getting her tracker out?”

“Not yet, I don’t think. Probably waited for the clinic to empty.”

“Makes sense.” He pulled up a chair and settled at the corner of my desk. We both ate in silence as I tracked her to an actual x-ray room.

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