“So nothing.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
“Thanks for trying. I’m going to see what I can get into.”
“I’ll keep looking on my end, too, and let you know if I find something.”
“Thanks.”
“Yeah. Any word on Jack?” Tucker asks.
“No one has heard from him since last night. He’s not at home or in Stormwatch Landing as far as we know. I’m going to do some digging into him today, but the FBI is trying to track him down.” The knowledge that something could have happened to him makes my stomach churn. I might not have cared for the fact that he was with Anastasia, but Jack is a good guy. He doesn’t deserve this.
“I checked security cameras outside his building again, but aside from seeing him leave last night, I’ve got nothing. Wherever he was grabbed, it wasn’t at home.”
“Yeah, that’s what I found, too. Thanks, Tucker.”
“Anytime, Sawyer. Talk soon.”
The call ends, so I set the phone aside and get to work. After getting through more than one firewall, I manage to hack into the system the feds use to triangulate phone calls. If I can figure out who was near my shop the morning it blew, I might stand a chance at finding who this guy really is.
That is, if he has a cell phone that he carries in his own name.
Given the fact that Tucker found nothing on the facial recognition database, though, I don’t have high hopes.
Lord, please help me. What am I supposed to do here? I can’t keep her on this boat forever.
My gaze drifts over toward the closed door to the bedroom. She’d finally excused herself about an hour ago and headed down to get some sleep. But I’d be surprised if she actually found any.
She’d been hollow after that call. Even more so once we realized Jack was missing.
I plug in the location for my search and start the program, scanning for all registered cell phones in and around my shop from the time I left to the time the place blew. Then, I open a new browser so I can start digging into Anastasia’s shop records. Thankfully, all her sales are processed through an online platform, making it easy enough to comb through the information.
For this guy to be as obsessed as he is, he has to have spent time in the shop. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Especially with him knowing about Axel. While I’ve already gone through this half a dozen times over the past week, I’ve got no other leads.
So, I run both hands over my face, then export the data again. Seventh time may be the charm.
With the spreadsheet in front of me, I search for the names of local people I know aren’t responsible. Myself, the rest of the team, Katelyn, Pastor Reeves and his wife…I eliminate as many as I can, hoping to get myself a workable data set that won’t take forty-seven years to navigate.
With that script running, I jump back into the phone tracer database to see that it has finished scanning and compiled a list. I export that, then start on another script to compare both data sets for any matching points.
Time ticks by, seconds that turn to minutes. Minutes to hours.
And so far—nothing.
How is this guy hiding? Even the call placed to the satellite phone was unregistered and only routed so it looked like it came from Momma Knox’s place. He has meticulously thought through every single process, and with every single unanswered question, I find my anger growing.
I’m a Navy SEAL.
A trained soldier.
A communications expert.
It was literally my job to learn everything I could about a target, yet I can’t seem to eliminate this one threat to the woman I love.
The door opens, and I glance up as Anastasia steps out. Her eyes are red and swollen, her expression broken.
“Hey, are you okay?”
