Page 35 of Facing the Enemy
“Appears so. But at this point, the subjects of our case speak English without an accent.” Jack waved his hand. “While Harvey Sinclair and Emily Lock might be the kingpins, dollars buy what organized crime needs. I’m thinking three countries where the ring might originate—Russia, China, and Colombia.”
“You covered three continents,” I said.
“Four if you count the US. As I was saying, while the Phan sisters were Vietnamese, a fourth country, our reports point to Colombia. There’s easier access in and out of the country, and criminals using the same route deal in drugs, running weapons, and human trafficking.”
Jack needed rest and was pulling at straws. “It’s nearing 3a.m. Let’s get a few hours’ sleep to recoup and start back up around ten this morning.”
“You’re right. I’m not thinking logically.” He stood from where his rear must have stuck to the chair with the hours we’d put in. “Where do we meet?”
“I’ll pick you up at your apartment and drive to the explosion site. I want to see who’s hanging out there, talk to anyone who knew the Phan sisters. Sift through a few ashes around the kitchen. It’s still inconclusive why the male victim couldn’t get out. Did he have a phone?”
“I’m too tired to suggest any other agenda.” Jack said his goodbye and held up a finger. “Add tracing the ballistics of a .22 that killed those women. Probably goes nowhere, but it could go somewhere.”
Like a drunk, I stumbled through the house to set the alarm, snapped off lights, and made it to my bedroom before remembering to check the FIG to see if they’d located Carson Lowell’s car. I pulled my phone from my jean pocket and checked for an update from the Field Investigative Group. Carson’s car was parked at a small motel near Santa Fe, New Mexico—a long way from Estes Park and the Colorado Rockies. According to the motel records, he traveled alone, and he’d signed the register as Andy Sloan. Good news for a change.
The kid was on the run, but he needed a few lessons on how to outsmart the FBI.
I wrestled with giving Risa what I’d learned about Carson’s location, but she deserved to know. My call wouldn’t be the first time I’d wakened her with an FBI matter. I pressed in her new burner number and envisioned her wrapping her fingers around her phone. She claimed to sleep with it and her Glock. Her sleepy voice on the first ring reminded me of how often I’d taken her for granted. Now I wanted to hold her and never let go, get lost in those green eyes.
“Hey, I know where Carson’s hiding out.”
“Where?” She sounded more awake.
“Canyon Rock Motel, near Santa Fe, New Mexico.” I gave her his alias.
“Hold on, Gage. I need to write this down.”
“I’ll send it in a text to this number.”
“Thank you so much. I owe you. I’ll be on the first flight out there.”
“Not without me. It’s too dangerous for you to walk into a potential danger zone alone.”
“Have you forgotten my training?”
“Nope. Have you forgotten the reason for working in pairs? I’ll make the flight arrangements for both of us.”
“But you have a huge case with Jack. Don’t tell me you’re not on it this weekend because I know you.”
He chuckled. “You nailed me.”
“Have you even been to bed yet?”
“About to.”
“Gage, you need a keeper.”
He remembered a mug he’d given her for her birthday—Gage’s Zookeeper. “This animal is heading to bed. Remember I’m flying to Santa Fe with you.”
She sighed. “Impossible. The wrong people might find out we’re traveling together.”
“Who cares? But if you’re worried about us being seen together, you book your flight, and I’ll book mine. We can leave in the afternoon after Jack and I check out a crime scene. Once we’re in Santa Fe, we’ll team up, and I’ll rent a car.”
“Gage, I appreciate you but—”
“No buts. I’ll wear a disguise.”
“I don’t know what to say, but this is crazy.”
