Page 20 of One Final Target

Jodie disagreed. Jukebox wasn’t a criminal mastermind. She’d started looking for him as soon as the cast came off her arm. No one had seen him, but she kept at it.

Once in Huntington Beach, she found a place to park. The regular surfers here were guys she called friends, and they all knew Jukebox. Most surfers tended to be a little on the unreliable side. Jodie didn’t see it as a character flaw; rather, she saw it as a practical result of the fact that waves were unpredictable. When they happened, guys had to jump on them or they’d be gone. Jobs and relationships suffered. Jukebox was more grounded, more reliable. He was a fixture at the beach, not a skipping-out kind of guy.

As she walked and talked to the surfers, she wondered if the mild-mannered, often goofy guy could really have had something to do with the explosion.Noscreamed in her thoughts. Nothing so sinister was in him.

She’d reached the pier near the volleyball courts when she saw him. Not Jukebox but Finn, Jukebox’s best friend. He’d been gone, certainly chasing the waves, for as long as Jukebox had. Brothers in the waves, Jukebox loved snowboarding as much as he loved surfing while Finn was strictly a surfer. Jukebox supported himself with odd jobs and taught skiing when he was in the mountains; Finn was a trust fund baby. Jodie had heard he survived on amonthly allowance large enough to comfortably support a family of five.

Her heart quickened in her chest. Finn would know where Jukebox was. She jogged to where he stood, surfboard at his feet, three or four bikini-clad ladies hanging on his every word. Finn was gorgeous—the only fitting way to describe him. Tall, tan, head topped with a striking mop of blond hair bleached by the sun, with a physique that looked sculpted, he could have stepped out of the pages of a movie magazine. He probably could have been an actor, if he had an attention span longer than a ten-year-old’s.

“Finn,” Jodie called.

He turned toward her, big grin splitting his face. “Jo-Jo, g’day!” he called back, affecting an Australian accent.

“Where have you been, buddy?”

“Down under. Just got off the plane. You know it’s summer there when it’s winter here. Sometimes I like to surf all year round. Where’s your board? I hear the swell is pumping.”

“I was in this morning. It was great. Hey, have you seen Jukebox?”

The grin faded and he scowled. “No, man, I haven’t. He was supposed to go with me. I bought him a ticket and he never showed.”

“He was supposed to go with you to Australia?” The excitement at finding Finn faded. Jukebox wasn’t fickle, at least not when it came to surfing or skiing.

“Yeah, he’d never been. Totally flaked, man. Wait, uh...” His face scrunched together like he was trying to remember something. “He wanted me to tell you something.”

“Tell me?”

“Yeah, it was strange. He said he was running late. Ah...” He threw down his hands. “I can’t remember. It was like months ago.”

“Try, Finn. It’s important. Juke is missing.”

“What?” He got serious and the fake accent fell away.

“True. I’ve been looking for him for three months.”

He dug around in the pile of towels and clothes on the bench next to him and pulled out his phone. “I’ll find his last text. It was from a different phone. No name showed up on my screen. I almost deleted it.” After he scrolled for a moment, he handed the phone to Jodie.

She saw the thread. With the first text, it seemed Jukebox wanted to be certain he had the right number. He identified himself as Juke. Finn told him he did and asked where he was, since there wasn’t much time for him to board the plane. She read the last entry Juke had typed. It was dated the day before the raid.

Sorry, Finn. Bad vibes. I might not make it. Can’t tell you what’s happening. Tell Jo-Jo it’s a setup. Gonna try and stop it, not sure I can tell her. I’m sorry for the bad 411.

Jodie felt frozen in place. The world around her faded away. Clearly something had happened. Why didn’t Jukebox call her? He had her number. Still holding the phone, she dropped her hands and looked up at Finn. He was watching her, a startled, serious look on his face.

“Was that bad? Did I mess up?”

She shook her head and handed him back the phone. “It’s bad. You couldn’t have known. Can you forward the text to me?” She gave him her number.

He sent the text and put a hand on her shoulder. “Is Juke in trouble?” His tone was so soft, sad, and caring she was tempted to give him a hug.

All she said was “I’m afraid so, Finn. I’m afraid so.”

CHAPTER11

THE SHOOTER HAD DUMPED THE VEHICLEat Forty-Fourth and Sierra Way. As they approached the location, Sam looked over a map, hoping for a clue as to where the suspect had headed.

“He took the first exit off of Waterman,” he said to Smiley, “then drove right past where he stole the vehicle, continued a couple of blocks, turned a corner, parked, and left the vehicle.”

“Yep.”

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