Page 70 of High Velocity

I immediately check my emails and open the one from Shane.

Well, I’ll be damned. I can see what he means that it’s not a precise location, the circle on the map is at least a couple of miles in diameter. But it’s covering an area I’m familiar with, just north of Troy, and bisecting the circle I can clearly make out Waterfront Road, where Tracy Elliston lives.

Annoyed, I immediately dial Ben Vallard, who answers on the third ring. I don’t give him a chance to say anything.

“This was a waste of a good favor,” I launch in on him, while texting him the image Shane sent me. “Her cell phone is still at the trailer.”

“No, it’s not.”

His quick and confident response throws me for a minute.

“How would you know that? Ben…were you in her trailer?”

It might be different if she was reported as a missing person, but she isn’t, and for him to gain access to her trailer without cause could get him into big trouble.

“It doesn’t matter. Her phone is not there,” he insists.

“Look at the screenshot I sent you.”

Some rustling can be heard on the other end, followed by a muffled curse.

“Are you still sure?” I prompt him.

“Yes. It’s not in her trailer,” he confirms.

All kinds of different scenarios play through my mind. She could have dropped it, but it’s hard to believe she wouldn’t have discovered that quickly and returned. Unless, of course, she dropped it but wasn’t able to return. Because someone was restraining her, or worse, she was injured or dead.

I shake my head to stop my mind from running away from me. I need to stick to the facts and her phone may be a source of information, if I can get my hands on it.

“We have to look for it.”

“It’ll have to wait until I get back this afternoon. I’m in Eureka, running down a lead.”

I don’t want to wait around. Tracy’s been missing for days already, if she was in any way hurt, we may well be too late already, but I’m not about to take that chance.

“Fine,” I tell Ben, already shoving my feet into a pair of runners.

I’ll deal with the fallout later.

I’d almost forgotten about Alex, who gets to her feet when she sees the keys dangling from my hand as I step outside.

“Is everything okay?”

I realize I’m being pretty rude, running out on Alex when I’m the one who invited her to stay in the first place. She deserves an explanation.

“I’m so sorry. I have to run out to Troy. I have to check on someone. She may be in trouble.”

She puts a hand on my forearm.

“Alone?”

I plaster a reassuring smile on my face.

“I’m an FBI agent, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you armed?”

Unfortunately, the fire destroyed my Glock. I guess I could lie, but this is Jackson’s mother.

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