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“Is that all?”
“Isn’t it enough?” I roar, ready to push him against the wall, uncaring that he has thirty pounds of muscle and years of combat training on me.
“Calm down, Wren. Is there more ammunition against him?”
I take a calming breath, but it’ll be days until my pulse evens out. Honestly, it won’t go back to normal until I have Whitney safe in my arms.
“I have years of records. The idiot kept everything digital, but my guess is he’s so narcissistic he never thought he’d get caught. He covered his tracks decently, but he’s no match for me.”
Flynn nods, understanding that I’m not bragging about my skills this time. It’s simply the truth.
“Did you find any other players connected to the FBI?”
“Not yet.”
“I can’t move forward with my contacts until I know who’s involved.”
“I know,” I answer, turning to my computer and opening several more windows. “I’m working on it.”
“Keep me updated.”
Just as he’s about to walk out of the room, a ping echoes around the room. I abandon my latest search to track Whitney.
“What are you doing?”
“I just got a hit on her bank.” My fingers fly, pulling up the information I need. “She’s at the bank on Delmar.”
“We don’t have anyone even close to that area,” he says with a sigh. “She’ll be gone before we can get to her. We can call and have security hold her.”
“So Jones can show up with his FBI badge and take her away? I won’t risk it. I can track her from here.”
“Do I even want to know?”
“You should probably leave the room so you have plausible deniability.”
He must sense I’m not joking because a few seconds later, my office door snaps shut with him on the other side.
Tapping into the security cameras, I find my frightened girl in the middle of the lobby. Her foot taps nervously as she waits her turn in line. Her transaction at the counter doesn’t take long, but after the woman hands her a stack of cash that she unceremoniously shoves into her gym bag, she waits to the side until a man walks up to her. I follow her on the feed through the bank until she enters the vault. Without hesitation, she opens a safe deposit box and upends the entire thing into her bag before I can even register what she had inside. A few minutes later, she’s walking outside and grabbing a cab. My access to the city cameras follows her all the way through town, and she ends up once again at the airport. She did this very same thing last night, but she walked out and left seconds after purchasing a ticket to New York. She never returned to the airport to get on that flight, and I lost precious hours watching video feeds to figure that out.
She’s more nervous now as she enters the airport for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, but she doesn’t head to the counter, instead making her way to the tram to catch a ride to the rental car place.
She’s a smart girl, and I realize just how smart when she pulls a driver’s license from her bag. Zooming in, I have to smile when she rents a car under the name Kathryn Janeway. We discussed Star Trek before, but is she purposely leaving crumbs for me by using the Voyager’s captain’s name? I would kiss her right now if she were here.
The young guy at the counter doesn’t bat an eye at her fake identification the way someone working the TSA stand would’ve if she bought a plane ticket.
She leaves and by the time she’s driving out of the parking lot in a non-descript Camry, I’ve already hacked the tracking system the company uses for their cars. I want to wait, to see if she’s going to leave me another crumb, but I can’t stay ten steps behind her. At any point Stephen Jones could get lucky and track her down.
Twenty minutes later, I deduce she’s heading to Cedar Rapids. Five minutes after that, I have a plane ticket purchased.
“One of us can go with you,” Ignacio says as he leans against the breakroom counter eating a banana.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way—” he begins, and it just rubs me the wrong way.
“Every conversation that starts that way gets taken the wrong way.”
“Dude, you’re excellent at your job,” Brooks interjects. He came back to the office after his rendezvous with the bridesmaid before going home. “But you’re not trained for this shit. If there’s trouble, you’ll need help.”
I resituate the strap on my shoulder. I know I’m going to need equipment when I get to Cedar Rapids, and I don’t have time to stop by my apartment before heading to the airport.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure them.
“I just think it’s best—”
