Night Watch (Kendra Michaels #4)(105)

“Tell me about it,” Griffin said sourly. “Get off my back, Lynch. I’m having enough trouble without you giving me grief. I don’t have time to hand out bulletins to everyone when I’m trying to find your damn doctor.”

“You’d better rethink that. Kendra is with that ‘damn’ doctor. I want her found.”

“So do I.” He paused. “Sorry. I’m worried about Kendra, too. But my director, John Howell is giving me hell about Waldridge. He’s being almost as big a pain in the ass as you are about his disappearing.”

“I’m only giving you hell about Kendra. Waldridge doesn’t matter to me.”

“Well, he matters to Howell. You could have told me about that new research Waldridge is doing. When the director read my last report, he jumped on me with both feet. There are two hot-ticket political items in Washington, defense and health care these days. He didn’t like it that I’d lost a researcher who’s work could sway millions of votes.”

“I didn’t know about it,” Lynch said impatiently. “You found out about the research the same time I did. And I don’t care about your damn director. I want to know what leads you’ve got on where they took Kendra.”

Silence.

“Griffin.”

“We found the truck that fits the description of the one that hit Kendra’s car in Sweet Water, California. It’s a tiny town due east of San Diego. That’s where they must have changed vehicles.” He paused. “Well, actually, it was Jessie Mercado who found it. She was scouring through all the towns along that highway asking questions and tapping her contacts. One of them paid off.” He went on brusquely, “And that was where they also removed the GPS tracker. Jessie found a pad that had a little blood on it in the back of the truck. She was mad as hell. She said that someone must have known about the GPS to locate it that soon. She thinks that it might have been Biers and told us to go pick him up. We haven’t found him yet. But we’re checking traffic and security cams in all of the small towns around that location and seeing what kind of vehicles went through them for the entire day. I’ve sent out agents to interview citizens, and we’re hoping for—”

Lynch was swearing. “Nothing. You know nothing. If Jessie hadn’t been there, you’d know less than nothing.” His hand clinched on his phone. “Don’t tell me about hope. Give me results.”

“We’re working on it. All we need is one lead, and we’ll pounce.”

Lynch drew a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to go on the attack. Griffin would just get stubborn and start avoiding his calls. He was having enough frustration trying to get through this damned flight without going ballistic. “I want to know when that lead comes in. Don’t make me call you.”

“It’s not as if you could do anything right now anyway. But I’ll keep you informed.” He hung up.

Griffin was right, Lynch thought in frustration. There wasn’t anything he could do flying at thirty-five thousand feet above the Atlantic. He needed to be on the ground working those leads himself. Not depending on Griffin’s agents or Jessie to come through for him.

And it would still be hours and hours before he would be able to take control of the hunt.

What could happen to Kendra during those hours?


Anzo-Borrego Desert

As the last tinges of sunlight disappeared in the west, Kendra turned to Waldridge. “Ready?”

“Ready.” His eyes were still closed as they had been for many of the hours they’d spent hiding in this crevasse nestled in a long ridge. He had made no complaints, but Kendra suspected he must still be recovering from those days of torture.

She smiled as she noticed that he’d torn off his shirttail to fashion a sweatband over his forehead. “Hey, what’s this? Rambo?”

“I wouldn’t presume. Though I was pretty good back at that lab, hmm?”

“You were awesome. Rambo, eat your heart out.”

He opened his eyes and leaned forward. “Any idea where they are?”

“No. I haven’t heard the cars in over an hour.” They had barely gotten the ATV hidden and found this crevasse when she’d heard the pursuit she’d expected. Two vehicles, but they hadn’t risked coming out of hiding to see who was in them. They’d just crouched here, trying to blend with the brush surrounding them. Then the vehicles had passed, and they’d heard them only in the distance for the last few hours. “They may be trying a different direction.”

He nodded. “It was probably lucky that our ATV quit on us. It would have given them a dust plume to follow.” He slowly, painfully, stood up and surveyed the desert around them. “I’d hoped we might see a light from a house or building somewhere around here.”

“I already looked. There’s nothing.”

“Too bad.” He moved stiffly across the uneven earth.

She frowned. “Look, if you want to stay here. I can set out on my own and—”

“Absolutely not.” He smiled. “We’re in this together. And don’t worry about my being able to keep up. I told you I could do it, and I will. As soon as I get the kinks out, I’ll leave you in my dust.”

“Okay, Rambo.”

True to his word, Waldridge kept a brisk pace for the next few hours as they made their way across the rough desert terrain. The night sky, free of spill light from any large population center, shone brilliantly with the illumination of thousands of stars. After dark, the wind had died down, and the desert was still, almost silent.