Page 62 of The Saint

“Maybe they’re running some kind of facial recognition. Though how they matched an image of you walking down the street beats the hell out of me.” He pulled out his cell phone. Camden’s thumbs tapped out a quick message. “We’ll worry about that later. First things first: new house. New ride. And I guess I wouldn’t mind new dinner plans.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Unanswered questions plagued Camden. How the hell had anyone spotted her? He had forty-five minutes until Winters would find them. Until then, Camden had to keep moving. He would let Parker sort out how Amelia had been pinpointed.

They couldn’t hide in a driveway all night long. He wouldn’t find a cab in this neighborhood and didn’t trust an Uber. Somehow, some way, Amelia’s face had been caught on camera. It didn’t make sense. He checked the empty street and took her hand. “Let’s roll.”

They hurried down toward the businesses and restaurants again. More people meant more places to duck and hide and fewer Ring cameras that could catch them and livestream their locations.

“Where are we going?” she asked. “Hey, you’re kind of dragging me, Cam.”

If he could’ve thrown her over his shoulder, he would’ve. He apologized but didn’t entirely mean it. They hit the main drag again. Enough people milled about that they could blend in. They could move with groups. A city bus approached. Its route number and Ride for Free flashed on the digital billboard above the windshield. “There’s our ride.”

They arrived at the bus stop a moment before it would’ve rolled by. The doors cracked. Heat enveloped them as they boarded.

“Where are we headed?” he asked.

“King Street in Old Town,” the bus driver said.

That didn’t mean anything to him, but they sat down toward the back of the bus.

“I know lots of places to eat on King Street,” she said.

Good. He liked busy areas and pulled out his phone to update Winters on their changing location.

The ride didn’t take long. They stepped off the bus in front of City Hall. Despite the cold, tourists walked through the large open area with ice cream cones. The streets were bustling compared to where they’d just been. It was exactly where they needed to be. A crowd covered the main blocks. Even the side streets had thick foot traffic.

“This way.” Amelia led them downhill with signage directing them toward the waterfront. Gaggles of people waited in front of restaurants for seating as heat lamps warmed outdoor patios.

The streets were cordoned off ahead of the river. People milled. Street musicians played. Vehicles could only pass through the intersecting streets that bisected the large space. He almost felt comfortable enough to ask if Amelia wanted to pop in somewhere to restart their dinner. Then another sedan with tinted windows crawled down a side street. A uniformed officer was directing traffic to move. His stomach dropped. That couldn’t be the same people searching for Amelia, could it? It wasn’t possible, yet his gut said to duck and cover.

They could see Washington, DC, from the bottom of King Street. There had to be any number of politicians and diplomats within a block, not to mention anyone else who required security details rolling by. Hell, even the city might have roving security.

“What’s wrong?” Amelia grabbed his arm and searched around.

“I don’t know.” His pulse pounded. What had he missed? “You don’t have your phone on you.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Check your pockets.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Check them.”

She shoved her hands into her coat. He rushed his hands over her pockets. They could have put a tracker in her jacketsand coats, hoping she would wear one when she was released from prison. He came up empty, and anxiety needled him.Hershoes, maybe? Jeans?What the hell was he missing? Camden ran his hands over her pants. She wasn’t wearing jewelry. She wasn’t carrying a tracker.

Time rushed by. He ran a hand into his hair and looked over her shoulder. Uncertainty hammered in his chest. Two men were working their way down from the top of the cordoned-off area. Methodically, they worked side to side, gaining ground.

“Shit.”

Amelia spun. “What?”

“We’re missing something. They tracked us all the way here. How?”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t know.”

Camden checked the crowd around them and didn’t see anyone else working through the group. They could run toward the river. A large waterfront pavilion on their left had a crowd, or they could go right, where the lighting got significantly darker. Neither would help if they were being tracked. The buses weren’t running on the intersecting street closest to the river.

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