Page 73 of One Final Target

JODIE GRABBED HER BACKPACK AND SUITCASEand followed Agent Greto out to the car. He’d been one of the original agents on the IED case, which meant she wasn’t riding with a complete stranger. He looked like every other male federal agent she’d ever met: tall, dark hair cut close, wearing a dark suit with a muted blue tie.

“Sorry we wasted so much time on Hayes,” he said as they sat in the car.

“Thanks for the apology.”

“First thing,” he said as he started the engine. “I’ll need your phone. You’ll be incommunicado for the time being.” He held his hand out.

“No, I’m not some silly civilian. My phone was checked. It’s free of trackers. I know not to use it.”

“Protocol.”

Jodie dug in her heels and shook her head. “It’s been examined. It’s in airplane mode. I’ve got games on my phone; I need something to occupy me. I know not to call anyone.”

They glared at one another for a moment before Greto relented.

“I hope you don’t plan on giving me headaches the whole time we’re together.”

“All depends. I hope you don’t plan on asking me the impossible again.”

He turned away and concentrated on the driving.

It was dark, and Jodie recognized he was driving to thwart any tails. She paid attention. After about an hour they pulled into the driveway of a small house in Huntington Beach. The house sat up off the street and backed up to an alley. It would have good ingress and egress. The agent opened the garage door with a button, then pulled the car in and shut the door once they were inside. The lights came on and they both got out.

As they entered the kitchen, the agent pointed to the refrigerator. “It should be stocked if you’re hungry.”

“I could eat. I’ll check out the bedroom first.”

He nodded. “Certainly.” He turned to a keypad on the wall. “I’m setting the alarm. There are sensors on all the doors and window screens. You can open a window, just don’t mess with the screen. If you need to go outside for any reason, let me know.”

“I can’t think of any reason why I would need to go outside, thanks.”

He keyed in the code and the alarm clicked on. He then went to the hall and flicked on the light. Jodie followed him to a back bedroom.

He turned the light on there as well, checked out the room. “This is yours.”

“Thanks.”

He left Jodie in the room, closing the door behind him.

She put her bags down and sat on the bed for a while. Then she went into the kitchen to make herself a snack. She was hungry; she hadn’t eaten since Estella’s. Greto was watching television. She put together a ham and cheese sandwich, grabbed some chips from the pantry, and went back to her room.

“Sweet dreams,” Greto called out.

Disappointed not to be taking Jodie to the safe house, Sam began to pack up his stuff. He’d been looking forward to chatting with Jodie for a bit. But the fewer people who knew where she was, the better. Now he could be as certain as possible she’d be safe.

Sam left the station about half an hour after Corson. One of the other detectives told him he’d find an In-N-Out Burger in Belmont Shore. He pulled up the address on his GPS and found it easily. While he was in line, he noticed a blue Jeep in the parking lot, same model as the one he’d seen earlier in the day. There was someone in the driver’s seat, but he could only see a shadow though the tint. From where he sat, he could tell the Jeep had no front license plate. He hadn’t noticed whether the Jeep he saw earlier had a front plate or not.

Am I being paranoid? Why would anyone be following me?He ate his meal, trying not to continually stare at the Jeep. It was still there when he got up and threw out his trash.

Spotting a tail in the dark would be difficult. He made a mental note of the vehicle’s headlight configuration, then started uphis rental and headed for the 405 freeway. He entered the flow of traffic, glanced in his rearview mirror, and there was the same car, he was sure.

Luckily, traffic wasn’t too heavy. He veered to the right and took the next off-ramp. The vehicle following him didn’t take the same exit. He pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall—was he in Cypress or Westminster?—and parked to think.

Am I being paranoid?he asked himself again.

He still wasn’t sure, but an idea came to him. He called his friend from the rental agency and asked if he could change rental cars.

“You having mechanical problems?”

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