Page 62 of Hidden Falls

“That must be hard,” Marcella said. “It’s been challenging here, too.”

“You look tired, Marcella. Wrap things up and get back to your family,” Lei said.

“I’ve been battling some kind of bug. Soon as we nab Paulson, I’m on the next plane.” Marcella pointed a finger at Lei. “You, too, lady. You’re way out of bounds on this.”

“I know. I’ve more than used up the twenty-four-hour countdown that Stevens gave me,” Lei said. “Next call after this is to Security Solutions. I’m glad I already gave Sophie a heads-up that we might need one of her extraction teams.”

“Get to it, then. Keep me posted however you can,” Marcella said.

“Will do. Aloha.”

“Hasta luego, Agent Scott,” Cruz said, and cut the connection. He turned in his chair to look at Lei. “Do you want to go through Security Solutions’ front desk, or call your friend Sophie’s cell?”

“Call her cell and use video chat,” Lei said.

The angry splash of dishes ceased as Harry hurried to join them.

28

Marcella rubbed her gritty eyes as the video chat went blank on her phone. She flopped back onto the bed in the room at the Maui Beach Hotel that she’d been using for the last two nights as she, Jenkins, and the rest of the MPD searched for Paulson.

Here on Maui, it was three hours earlier than in Mexico, and though she should have been up by now, she’d been having trouble falling asleep, and that had led to oversleeping. Fortunately, she’d made plans to meet Jenkins at the station for a team meeting at ten a.m., so she’d be able to take her time with a shower.

She rolled to the side and stood up from the bed. Dizziness swamped her. She gripped the edge of the cheap pressed wood desk and waited for the spell to pass, then headed for the shower.

“I’m tired of people telling me I look tired,” she muttered.

Waxman had said the same thing when she’d checked in with him the night before, updating her boss on the fact that Paulson’s trail had gone cold.

Under the shower, turned to cold for maximum wake-up power, Marcella scrubbed her skin with a rough washcloth and shaved her legs; her skin felt prickly and sensitive. “I do need to get this thing wrapped up.” Come what may, she was going home tomorrow. Marcus and Jonas had reached their limit on doing without her, and it seemed that Paulson had gone to ground in a final way.

As Marcella stepped out of the shower, her phone, set on the edge of the sink, vibrated and toned. She wrapped herself hastily in a towel and picked up the call. “Special Agent Scott here.”

“Marcella. We have a lead on Paulson.” Jenkins’s voice was tight with excitement. “I’ll pick you up outside the hotel in ten.”

“That will work. What’s the lead?”

“One of the girls we rescued talked. Finally. Paulson has a hideout in Kahului at a house he rents. She gave us an address.” Jenkins paused for the first time, wavering. “Think we should call for SWAT?”

“No. I think we can take him. Paulson doesn’t seem violent.” Marcella felt confident of her assessment. “But we do need to surprise him. Did you keep those girls cut off from their phones?”

“Sure did. That’s what finally broke the kid.” Jenkins chuckled, typical insensitive dude that he was. “She’s been in a women’s shelter. No phones allowed for the first week. After one of the meetings, she told the counselor she wanted to help bust Paulson; the therapist called me just a few minutes ago. See you in ten, like I said.” He hung up.

Marcella set the phone down and grabbed a second towel, wrapping up her long hair. She hurried into the room and dressed quickly in her usual FBI “uniform,” and this time, left off her signature shoes in favor of a pair of black Reeboks—always good to be prepared for running on a raid. She braided her wet hair quickly, strapped on her holster and badge, and then pulled the FBI-emblazoned ballistic vest out of her suitcase and put it on.

Yeah, the thing was hot, but better safe than sorry. As she tightened the Velcro straps, the vest squashed her breasts uncomfortably.

Marcella was preoccupied with her own thoughts as she hurried down the stairs and out through the exit to the front of the hotel, ignoring the stares of the staff and other hotel guests.

She checked her phone again when Jenkins hadn’t yet appeared; Marcus had called and left a message. She’d have to get to it later; she wasn’t in a hurry to speak to him given she’d worn out her grace period away from home.

Jenkins pulled up in his personal vehicle, a bright yellow older-model Mustang with black racing stripes. “I didn’t have time to go pick something up from the motor pool,” he said as she opened the door and got in. “And I thought we should do a drive-by and case the house first.”

“Yeah, this car really blends for surveillance purposes,” Marcella teased. “We’ll get one lap around the block before they’ve tagged us.”

“Hey. A man’s gotta have a hobby. This car’s been a restoration project.” Jenkins patted the steering wheel, a shiny chrome thing made of welded-together chain links. “My wife Anuhea is totally supportive.”

“Whatever. Just get us there.” Marcella wished she’d had time for a snack; her stomach was roiling. “Got any crackers in here?”

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