The Rescue(47)

“Sure you have, and I suppose Ms. Mackenzie just went for a walk right now. Should be back any time.”

“How should I know? She just handed me the keys and got out of the car. I assumed she was going to help with Jess’s luggage.”

“And you’re not concerned that she just vanished,” said Reeves, smiling at the ridiculousness of their conversation.

“Hey. I’m not her mother,” said the woman. “And it’s my car. If she doesn’t want a ride back from the airport, she can get an Uber. I don’t give a crap. I was doing her a favor.”

“She’s been driving your car for the past few hours,” said Reeves. “I know you weren’t in the car when I talked to them in the apartment at Santa Monica Beach.”

“She borrowed my car for the night. That’s called a favor,” she said. “And I walked right past you in front of that apartment building.”

“No way. I would have known—”

“Excuse me! Sorry to break this up,” said Sergeant Powell, appearing next to Kincaid. “I need their car moved, too.”

“Am I under arrest?” said Buzz Cut.

“I can’t be under arrest,” said the brunette. “I just got here.”

“You have an airline ticket?” said Reeves.

“Gentlemen?” said Powell, impatiently.

The brunette dug through her designer handbag and produced a ticket jacket, with the ticket stub and printed itinerary tucked conveniently inside. Reeves snatched it out of her hand and gave it a look.

“Jessica Arnay,” he said. “You flew in from Minneapolis?”

“Yes,” she said. “Would you like to see my ID?”

He shook his head. “What was your business in Minneapolis?”

“None of your business,” she said, flashing a cold look that told him everything he needed to know about her. She was part of this scheme, whatever it was, her fluffy, chic exterior nothing more than camouflage. Buzz Cut was the same deal. Seasoned operators in Mackenzie’s circle of friends.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t hold you up any longer,” said Reeves, motioning for them to pass.

“That’s it?” said Kincaid.

“That’s it.”

Kincaid drove them slowly past the Toyota, Reeves staring at the two women through his open window. Sergeant Powell stood on the curb next to the sedan, waiting to help them load their luggage into the trunk.

“Maybe he’s in the trunk,” said Kincaid.

“Nope. She swapped with him either at the apartment or on the road,” said Reeves. “They wouldn’t have asked the good sergeant to help with their luggage if Decker was curled up in the trunk.”

“True,” said Kincaid. “Obviously the two of them were lying through their teeth.”

“Yes and no.”

“No?”

“Buzz Cut was lying, but the other one?” said Reeves. “I have no doubt she traveled to Minneapolis.”

“She could have picked up that ticket in the trash,” said Kincaid. “You never checked her ID.”

“I didn’t have to. Decker’s parents live in Minneapolis,” said Reeves. “And that’s just too much of a coincidence for me to ignore.”

Kincaid didn’t look convinced.

“Did you see her entire itinerary?” said Reeves. “Ms. Arnay didn’t leave for Minnesota until late yesterday afternoon.”

“Before Penkin was grabbed?”

Reeves nodded. “Nearly six hours before.”

“I don’t know,” said Kincaid. “It’s a whole lot of circumstantial speculation.”

“Or Penkin was just the beginning,” said Reeves. “And Mackenzie is thick as thieves with Decker.”

“The stuff about Aegis?”

“If it’s real,” said Reeves.

“Sounded a little contrived to me. A little too convenient.”

“Normally, I would agree, but for some reason I can’t shake the distinct feeling that there’s something much bigger at play here.”

“Are we going to follow these two?” said Kincaid.

Reeves reached into the back seat and retrieved a ruggedized digital tablet, placing it on his thighs. A few moments later, the screen came to life, illuminating the passenger compartment with a full-color street map centered on Los Angeles International Airport. He dimmed the screen and checked the data feed. Both tracking devices pinged with strong signals.

“Of course we are.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Harlow sprawled across the back seat of the SUV that had moments ago whisked her away from Supervisory Special Agent Reeves’s dragnet, watching the streetlights pass above her. Reeves had swallowed the entire bait in the pickup zone, presenting her with the irresistible opportunity to vanish far sooner than she’d expected. She truly hadn’t expected to get any sort of a break from Reeves at the airport, but she’d arranged the pickup vehicle just in case. When every FBI agent in sight dashed after Pam, she slipped out of Pam’s Toyota and into the adjacent SUV.

“That was almost too easy,” said Sophie, her top skip tracer.

“You’re positive they didn’t make you?”