“I assume there’s a reason they need us to do it,” Quinn said.
“But there can’t be much left, can there? Bones, maybe some clothes?” Quinn looked at him. “What is it you really want to say?”
Nate stuffed a potato chip into his mouth. “Okay, I know it’s going to sound a little weird given what we deal with most of the time, but this kind of gives me the creeps.”
“The creeps.”
“Yeah. Come on. It doesn’t make you feel a little odd?”
“No,” Quinn said. He started walking again.
Nate was a step behind him.
“Not even a little?”
“Not even a little.”
“Okay. Sorry I brought it up. It’s just, you know, you always said to go by your gut.”
Nate stuffed another chip in his mouth.
Despite what he’d said to Nate, his gut was telling him pretty much the same thing. Only it wasn’t the condition of the body that was bothering him. It was the whole nature of the project. For the first time in quite a while, he was starting to wonder if he was on the right side of things or not.
His phone vibrated, bringing a welcome diversion. It was Orlando.
“Hey,” he said. “How’s Garrett?”
“What? Oh, he’s fine,” she said, seeming distracted. “Okay, so I’ve got you on a 6:40 flight on Continental out of Newark.”
Quinn looked at Nate. “Get a cab.”
“I could change it to the 9:45 if that’ll work better,” Orlando said.
“No. Should be fine. Just need to pick up our bags and head over.” They’d left their luggage in the car they’d driven into the city. It was parked in a lot just off Broadway. “I’ll call you back if I think we’re not going to make it. Have you found anything on that photo I sent you?”
“Not yet. The age might be a problem. But I’m running it through several databases.”
“Here we go,” Nate said as a taxi pulled to the curb. Quinn’s apprentice climbed in.
“Our ride’s here,” Quinn said into the phone. “I’ll check in with you before we leave. See if you’ve found out anything then.”
“Quinn,” she said.
The tone of her voice stopped him on the curb.
“What?”
“That problem I told you about before …”
“What about it?”
“It’s worse than I thought.”
“Worse how?” he asked.
“Whoever’s trying to find out about you knows what they’re doing.” She paused. “They found your name.”
“Which name?” The sounds of the cars and the people on the street disappeared. Even the October chill seemed to vanish.
“Your
“I don’t have a Social Security number.”
“You did once.”
“Yeah, but you got rid of that, didn’t you?” he asked. She hesitated. “I buried it, but I wasn’t able to delete it completely.”
“But you told me …”
“I told you I took care of it. Look, I’m sorry. I thought I had. No one should have been able to find it, but someone did.”
“Okay. All right. What—”
She cut him off. “Ten minutes later I got half a dozen alarm messages from some improved trips I set up last night on things connected to your life before Quinn.”
“Where?” he asked.
“IRS, the Phoenix Police Department—”
“I know for a fact my record with the Phoenix PD was removed.” His tenure there had been short and long ago.
“
