Page 25 of Long Past Deadly

“You left San Diego?”

“Yes, for college.”

“How many times did you see Mercer here?”

“Once.”

Mackey touched his arm. “Let’s get off the elevator and have the rest of this conversation in the office.

But Quaid stayed in place.

She was close to shutting down. Her eyes sagged with fatigue, deep lines creased her forehead, and her lips were red from chewing them. This wasn’t the strictly controlled FBI Agent. This was the real woman with all her vulnerabilities hanging out. He wanted to know this woman, but he would have to earn it. In the meantime, he’d protect her and her secrets as best he could.

“Tell me one other thing to help us find him.” He held up his forefinger. “One thing.”

She sighed deeply, grief streaking across her face. “Find Daniel Whitaker.”

“How?”

“Daniel Boone Whitaker. He goes by Whit. Streets.” She brushed past him to stand with Drucker. “I’m done.”

The medic led her down the hall to the clinic.

Mackey patted his shoulder and let the door slide shut. Pushing the button for floor three, Quaid didn’t speak until the doors opened again on the Operations/Admin level. “We have two names now, and we’re both safe. Let’s start hunting.”

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Flash Alert: 13:45:15 12/15 – San Diego HQ.

Investigation active. HQ facility secure. All personnel accounted for. Security Level 3 in force. Ϙ

The guts of QM always hummed with activity. Night and day someone was on shift. Ambient light, white walls, dark blue carpet, black desk cubicles, monitors and smart boards spread across every surface. All the wall space represented QM’s professional intent. Every case was managed through here.

Quaid had an office in the main hallway, as did Mackey, used for guests, clients, and personnel business, not cases. He checked the monitors and noted they were using his Operations workspace to manage the hunt for the assassin. That he and Alanna’s situation was an active investigation made him battle his temper.

Mackey walked to the cubicle and leaned to study what Kerry Jahle, their computer genius, was doing on her three computer screens. Quaid followed to listen in.

Info flashed in rapid fire across her screens, and Quaid rubbed his eyes to banish the fatigue. Harrison’s office light was on, but the space was empty. Casey Miner, a former cop and his deputy, was across the room working with Dave Johnson, their financial investigator. They did have cases pending. They couldn’t grind everything to a halt to solve this. Mackey would, but they couldn’t afford to drop the ball anywhere.

Quaid joined them, choosing silence.

Mackey took point to brief. “Name is Mercer. First or last, we don’t know. Might be military.”

Kerry frowned, then grabbed a tie and twisted her hair to the top of her head. “Oh, that’s so vague as to almost be useless, but let’s see what we get. I’ll try as a last name first, but this could be an alias, too.”

“Can you find any reference to an assassin using only that name?”

Kerry raised her brows. “Telling me how to do my job, boss?”

“Wouldn’t think of it, but the sooner we find him the better. I have another name.”

“Do tell.”

Quaid dropped his silent pose. “Daniel Boone Whitaker. Known as ‘Whit”, San Diego streets. Alanna lived in San Diego in high school. Knew these two when she was fifteen.”

“So we’re talking back a ways and if they were street, well, you do love giving me a challenge, don’t you?” Kerry slipped a pencil behind her ear, chose a database and typed in Whit’s name.

Mackey crossed his arms and blanked concern off his face, but Quaid saw it. “You should go get some sleep. I’ve got this.”