newspapers. “Joaquin is a friend of mine. He’s very good at his job. I know you’ll like him once you meet him. Can I send him out?”
“Oh . . . I don’t . . . I don’t know about that. Let me think about it.”
Under most circumstances, Laura would simply cut the photograph from the story package. But she knew readers would want a face to connect with his story.
She looked at her clock and saw it was already ten thirty. Javier would be here at noon, and then Laura would be otherwise occupied—for a little while. That would leave her only a couple of hours of writing time before deadline, but she’d already made solid progress. If she could find Joaquin and meet him at Hollis’s place, she could get the photo squared away and be back in time to meet Javier.
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll meet Joaquin there. Would that work?”
“Oh, well, I guess that’s better.”
She reached for a pen and pad of paper. “What’s your address?”
He gave her his street number.
“Would eleven be good? That’s a half hour from now.”
“That’s fine. I don’t have anything else to do.”
Laura called Joaquin, who said he thought he could just fit it in before heading up into the mountains with Sophie. She offered to text him the directions she’d downloaded, but he said he didn’t need them.
“I’ll punch them into my GPS.”
“Perfect. See you in thirty.”
Laura e-mailed the directions to her smartphone and headed out.
JAVIER WAITED IMPATIENTLY on the line while Miles worked.
“Infrared LEDs—this could be a problem. I don’t know if the program can extrapolate a height or weight when it can’t get a lock on the top of his head. Oh, look, he brought an M110. Nice weapon.” More clicking. “Okay, got a great shot of him. Hang on.”
Javier paced the short length of Laura’s office, the uneasy feeling that had been building inside him growing stronger. The FBI believed it had closed this case, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d seen Edwards in action, Javier would have bought it. But he
“Yeah . . . This isn’t going to work. The software doesn’t know what to make of his head. I’m getting nothing but an error message. Sorry, man.”
“No problem. I understand. You’ll still get that steak dinner. And the Glenfiddich.”
“Happy to help. Sorry I couldn’t do more. Interesting to watch a left-handed sniper, though. You don’t see too many of those.”
Javier’s stomach dropped to the floor, his heart giving a hard kick.
Why hadn’t he noticed that before?
“I think you just gave me what I need. Thanks, man.” Without explaining, he disconnected the call and dialed McBride, hurrying for his gear.
“Hey, Corbray, what’s up?”
“It wasn’t Edwards. The sniper wasn’t Edwards. The shooter was left-handed. Edwards fired at me using his right.”
“Are you sure?”
“Look at the footage. Also, I ruled out the possibility of Edwards being behind Laura’s abduction. He was lying in the hospital in a coma at the time.”
“There went that theory. I’ll pass this along to the police. I’m on my way to the cop shop now anyway. Hunter called to say that Edwards’s social worker showed up insisting that Edwards couldn’t have done any of the things the FBI claims he did. She says he had trouble tying his shoes and struggled to live independently.”
How had Petras and his crew not ascertained that key fact?
Javier knew why.
They’d found exactly what they’d expected to find at Edwards’s apartment and hadn’t bothered to look deeper. Just as they’d done with Ali Al Zahrani.
Javier held the phone to his ear with his shoulder, loading a spare magazine with anti-personnel rounds. “Edwards may have been involved in this, but the man we’re looking for is able-bodied and fit. It can’t be a coincidence that Edwards had a beef against Laura. That has to mean something. Are we sure the alibis for his two surviving buddies are airtight?”
“I’ll get on the phone with Miami and Detroit now.”
“I’m catching a cab to the newspaper. I’ll stay with Laura until we can figure this shit out. Whoever he is, he’s still out there, and that means she’s still in danger.”
Javier ended the call, then dialed Laura’s cell.
No answer.
He left a message. “Laura, stay at the newspaper. Don’t go anywhere. Stay away from the windows. The man in the footage is not Edwards. I say again, stay at the paper. I’m on my way.”
He checked his Walther PPS and secured it in his shoulder holster. The fit wasn’t perfect, but since he didn’t have his SIG, it was going to have to do. Then he grabbed the spare key that Laura had left him, picked up the CD, and headed down to the street.
LAURA LET THE call go to voice mail, the traffic on I-25 demanding her full attention. Holly had a theory that Denver’s infamous Mousetrap was actually a psychology experiment gone awry, and this morning, Laura thought Holly might be right. There certainly seemed to be enough road rage going around.
“Hey!” She braked to avoid colliding with a car that had just cut across three lanes of traffic, heading for the I-70 exit. “Idiot.”
Twenty minutes later, she found herself staring at an expanse of undeveloped land. Surrounded by a barbed-wire fence, it had probably once been pastureland. Now it was simply vacant, its scant cover of grass dry and brown. Realizing she must have made a wrong turn, she read through the directions once again, only to find that she’d followed them precisely. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time that her browser’s maps app had been incorrect.
She stopped the car and saw that the call she’d missed had come from Javier, who had left a voice mail. Afraid she was going to be late to her meeting with Mr. Hollis, she dialed Joaquin first, hoping he’d had better luck with his GPS. His phone had just begun to ring when she heard the sound of an approaching engine. Thinking it might be him, she looked up—and saw a black van hurtling directly toward her.
There was no time to react, no time to be afraid. The van hit her head-on with bone-crunching force, knocking the breath from her lungs, as something hit her hard in the face—the air bag.
Stunned, she struggled to regain her breath, reaching for her cell phone, which had flown out of her hand and lay on the passenger-side floor along with the contents of her purse, including her loaded SIG.
Then a man jumped from the van.
In his hand was a rifle.
CHAPTER
29
JAVIER REACHED THE newspaper to find that Laura wasn’t there. With a knot of dread in his chest, he tried to reach her on her cell again.
No answer.
He looked out across a busy newsroom. “I need to know where Laura is.”
