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I tossed aside another set of prints that came up with nothing. I had six others running. Egan glanced at his phone and left the room.
I checked on Raven’s still unworking tracker, then studied the footage we had again, looking for a clue. Any clue. My computer beeped as a hit came in, and I pulled up the information.
“I may have something.”
I scanned the screen, suddenly on my feet as adrenaline flowed into my body. “Fingerprints came back with the name John Andrew Allan,” I read out loud. “Files are sealed.”
Marcus looked over my shoulder. “Not to us.”
I slammed my hand on the table. “No known address. Motherfucker—this is him. I know it is. The mug shot looks like Andy. Younger, but it’s him.”
Julian walked in with Egan. “I have something too, Damien.”
“What?”
“Stewart Anderson doesn’t exist. He mirrored a website from a company in the States and dropped himself in there. He created a whole fake profile.”
“But I met him.”
“I think we found your crumb.” He paused. “I think you met Andy’s alias.”
I gaped at him. “How is that possible?” I asked. “They look nothing alike.”
“Or so you thought.” He handed me the sketch Egan had done of Andy, then the picture he’d obviously printed off the fake website.
“Nothing alike,” I said again.
He handed me another piece of paper. “Look without the glasses, the colored contacts, or the wig.”
I stared down at the picture. “Holy fuck.”
“Take away the prosthetic add-ons, the scruff, and the padded shoulders…” He trailed off.
“It’s him.” I stood, rage setting in. “You mean to tell me I had dinner with that fucker—that he sat across the table, acting like someone else, planning all this? That he set this all up?”
“I think so. I think he does this a lot. Andy, Stewart, the maintenance man. He pretends to be someone else.”
“But how is he living?”
“Under yet another fake name and life. Now we have to find him.” Julian rested his hand on my shoulder. “And when Stewart calls you, and he will, because we all know how these psychos work, you have to pretend to still be in the dark. Almost beg him for help. He has to think he’s ahead of us. Still controlling the game. Let him get careless.”
“Why can’t we go find him and beat him until he tells us?” I snapped.
“Because he’s already underground. I called the real financial company, and they have never heard of him, which came as no surprise. He will respond to your message as Stewart and pretend to be shocked. Horrified. Drop some red herrings about who he told so we can chase our own tail. We’re going to trace the call and see if we can find where he is. Then we find Raven.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t see it.” I yanked on my hair. “How the fuck did I miss this?”
“He is an expert manipulator. Add an accomplished hacker with a flair for acting? It’s a scary trifecta,” Marcus mused.
Julian nodded. “You missed it because you’re not a field agent, Damien. You weren’t trained for this. Your focus was on Raven. On protecting her.” He shook my shoulder. “There’s a reason doctors don’t operate on their spouses. You can’t separate those feelings. You can’t be an objective doctor and a loving husband at the same time. It’s the same here. It was for me and for Marcus.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “This man is a genius at disguise. To be honest, I don’t know if any of us would have caught on. He’s too good at the game.”
“I should have. He was right fucking there, and I missed it.”
“Stop,” Julian insisted. “Stop blaming yourself, and concentrate on finding him.”
I hung my head. He was right.
