thin as one of Jeffrey’s thighs. Clad forever in hugely baggy jeans, a white tee-shirt under a flannel shirt, and a pair of Doc Martens, his pockets were always full of electronic devices… cell phone, pager, Palm Pilot, all manner of thin black beeping, ringing toys. A pair of round wire spectacles, nearly hidden by a shock of bleached blond hair, framed his blue-green eyes. Craig called himself a cybernavigator, though his title at Jeffrey’s firm was Information Specialist. More or less plugged into the Internet twenty-four-seven, more or less legally, Craig could gather almost any piece of information needed at any time of the day or night.
The image just looked like a bunch of trees seen from above to Lydia but Jeffrey had been on the phone with Craig for nearly an hour talking about various elements of the image, Dax looking over his shoulder, chiming in. It annoyed her that they all seemed to be seeing something there that evaded her, like one of those stupid computergenerated images that revealed itself only after you stared at it for an hour. She opened another window and looked at the survey of the property. It showed three structures built on the fifteen-acre property. She looked back at the satellite image. Dax and Jeff claimed to be able to see at least six structures. She couldn’t even see one through all the tree cover.
“Look for the unnatural lines,” said Jeff, coming up beside her. “Nature doesn’t like straight lines.”
“Oh, there,” she said after a moment, touching a finger to the screen where a hard edge showed through the tree cover. He nodded.
An anxiousness washed over her. As she traced the line of the building, the LCD screen turned black beneath the pressure of her finger.
“She’s in there,” she said. It was part declaration, part question. But something inside her told her they were close to Lily.
“If she is, we’re going to bring her home.”
She looked up at him. He had this way of sounding so confident she couldn’t think of doubting him.
Jeff’s phone rang then. He answered and sat on the bed. Lydia turned back to the screen. Another window revealed blueprints of one of the buildings at the New Day Farms. As far as Lydia was concerned, she might as well have been looking at hieroglyphics. Anything like that… maps, blueprints, forms… just shut her down mentally.
“Notice anything weird about this building?” whispered Dax who’d come to stand beside her.
She shook her head.
“No windows,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing good.”
“Interesting,” said Jeffrey, dropping the phone into the pocket of his shirt.
“What?”
“That was Chiam Bechim, the jeweler I saw. Someone tried to move some of those stolen stones. Apparently whoever was behind it paid the team in gems. Someone got anxious for his money and tried to sell a couple of small canary diamonds. Bechim’s people were notified.”
“Who are ‘Bechim’s people’?” asked Lydia.
Jeffrey looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “He didn’t say.”
“Okay,” she said with a frown. “So who was it?”
“A guy named Manny Underwood. Started out in corrections. Lost his job and did some hard time for dealing drugs to inmates.”
Dax winced. “Corrections officers don’t usually do well in prison.”
Jeff nodded. “He lived through it because he made some powerful friends inside. Later on, these same people gave him work in ‘personal security.’ Apparently, Manny’s a big guy, total roid case. Good bodyguard material. Anyway, after he was released he went to work for a company called Body Armor. Ring a bell?”
“Body Armor,” Lydia repeated, the name sounding familiar to her.
“Owned until about a year and a half ago by Tim Samuels.”
Lydia let the information sink in. “Huh,” she said, not having anything more intelligent to offer at the moment. The loose connections between people and events were not coalescing for her. Tim Samuels to Michele LeForge to The New Day, The New Day to Mickey, Mickey to Lily, Tim Samuels’ former employee to a jewel robbery to a pink stone found in an abandoned building that LaForge once declared as her residence. It was a chain of evidence linked only to itself, circular and useless.
“Do we know who bought his company?” asked Dax.
“We don’t know. But I’m starting to have my suspicions.”
“The New Day,” said Dax.
“I’d put money on it. That’s probably how Samuels got tangled up with them in the first place. Maybe he didn’t even know it.”
“What would The New Day want with a personal security firm?” said Lydia.
Jeffrey shrugged. “Maybe they needed some trained muscle.”
They were all quiet as they considered the reasons why a ‘church’ would need trained muscle. She thought of the men who’d chased her from the premises. She thought of Lily in restraints. She thought of the jewel heist and Detective Stenopolis accused of a terrible crime she was sure he couldn’t have committed. Who are these people? she thought.
“Well, maybe Underwood has some answers,” suggested Dax.
“Doesn’t sound like he knows much of anything. At least nothing Bechim was willing to share.”
“We can talk to him when we get back to New York. Tomorrow. With Lily,” said Lydia. She was shooting for optimism but it sounded more like desperation even to her own ears.
“When are we going to leave?” asked Lydia. She’d managed her anxiety into a low-level buzz but the volume was coming up again.
“I just want to do a little more research on that building,” said Dax, moving over to the computer.
There was an aggressive knock on the door to their room. All of them froze for a second, then Lydia moved to the wall beside the door. She felt her heart start to stutter and looked at the bag across the room that contained her gun.
“Room service,” a gruff muffled voice said through the thin wood. Jeffrey and Dax exchanged a look.
“Ever see a dump like this offer room service?” whispered Dax.
“Especially when we didn’t call for anything,” said Jeff, kneeling behind the bed and taking his gun from his waist. Dax was about to follow suit, when the door busted in and three unpleasant-looking men in suits entered, guns drawn.
“Guns on the bed, please. Hands where we can see them,” said a balding man with ice blue eyes and a small but powerful-looking physique. He sounded tired, bored, like he’d said the words so many times that his jaw ached from it.
Jeff and Dax put their guns on the bed and their hands on their heads. Lydia felt the tension drain from her shoulders and her adrenaline stop pumping. Federal Agents; better than The New Day freaks.
“Ms. Strong, can you please stand over by your associates?”
Lydia complied and the man replaced his sidearm in its holster and withdrew identification from the lapel pocket of his jacket.
“I’m Special Agent John Grimm with the FBI and you are in my space.” He glanced behind him. “Stand down, boys.” The two younger agents, both thin and fresh faced with good haircuts, replaced their weapons.
“You can take your hands off your heads,” said Grimm, moving toward the bed. Jeffrey and Dax got to their feet. Grimm leaned down and picked up the Desert Eagle.
“Jesus. That’s nice. I’ve never seen one of those. Going moose hunting?”
Dax looked very stiff, his face drained of color. Grimm laid the gun back on the bed.
“I know who you are, Ms. Strong. And you, Mr. Mark, I believe we met when you were still with the Bureau. But I’m not sure I’ve been introduced to your colleague here.”
“Ignatius Bond,” said Dax, extending a hand.
Grimm looked at Dax and nodded. Dax withdrew his hand with a smile that was really more like a grimace. There was an energy between the two men that Lydia wasn’t sure she understood.
“So what brings you all to Florida?” said Grimm, walking over to the laptop and touching the mouse pad.
“We’re vacationing,” said Lydia.
