His phone vibrated. It was a text message from Lucy.
Sean wanted to see Lucy, but he needed to talk to Paxton again. Fill in some of these blanks.
He called to arrange a meeting, and Paxton tried to postpone until tomorrow. Sean wouldn’t let him, and Paxton agreed to meet him at nine, at Paxton’s residence in Alexandria.
He never wanted Lucy to know what had happened in Massachusetts. He would destroy Paxton if it got out.
Sean might take the senator down anyway, just for threatening him.
He responded to Lucy’s message.
He had enough time to check on Lucy and get to Alexandria early. He planned to do a little investigation on the senator himself.
He grabbed his laptop and bag of tools, locked up, and tossed everything in his trunk.
Noah watched His Grace Church for thirty minutes.
Reverend Marti North knew exactly who Ivy Harris was. He had already called to get a warrant, but it was late and he had not one teeny piece of evidence that Marti had lied to him, that Hannah/Ivy was there, or that she would return. And whenever they were dealing with registered churches, legitimate or not, they had to be extremely careful in how they approached the situation. No one in the Bureau would forget Waco.
Still, Rick Stockton thought Noah was on to something, and was working with his people and the U.S. Attorney to see what they could do. It might mean simply sending in another agent. Or authorizing a stakeout. Or digging deep into Marti North’s past and finding something they could leverage. Not Noah’s favorite approach, but when a fourteen-year-old girl was missing and the people she had been with were all dead, he would do whatever it took.
Cyber crimes had called him with the information obtained from the virtual phone company. The number was registered to a pay-as-you-go phone and the account purchased with a prepaid credit card.
Noah didn’t find it humorous that Sean Rogan had predicted that method to hide the identity of the phone number holder.
The credit card yielded nothing-it was in the dollar amount for the yearlong subscription to several virtual numbers, all of which went to the same disposable phone number. The account had been opened three months ago, and changed disposable numbers four times. The current disposable phone, however, had been reloaded at a nearby location three weeks ago.
When he got the call that the surveillance team had finally arrived to relieve him from the impromptu stakeout, he left to check out the business.
Noah drove to a small convenience store only six blocks from the church, on the corner. Like other businesses in the area, bars covered the windows. When he pulled up, several loiterers left the area.
He walked in and the tall, young black kid behind the counter gave him the once-over. “You a fibbie?”
“Special Agent Noah Armstrong.” He showed his ID. “I’m looking for the owner.”
“That’s my dad. He’s not here.”
“I’m looking for this girl. She lives not far from here, and may have come in to refill a disposable phone.” He showed Ivy’s picture.
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Noah wasn’t certain the number belonged to Ivy, but since it was only a mile from her house, he was taking a chance thinking it was her. With the multiple virtual numbers all going to the same phone, it suggested she was giving different numbers to different people. According to the company, the caller ID was set up to show which virtual number was being used. That would help Ivy keep track of who was calling her.
Noah had also asked about tracing the numbers calling in to the virtual numbers, but the company didn’t keep that data.
This was his closest lead. “The last time the phone was filled was three weeks ago, two hundred dollars cash.”
The kid lit up. “She-et, why didn’t you say so? Two bills, crisp and clean.”
“Was it her?”
“Naw, it was some older dude. Forties.”
“Do you remember what he looked like?”
The kid shrugged. “White. Maybe Mexican, Italian, something like that-but not a spic, if you know what I mean.”
Noah let the racial slur slide. “How was he dressed?”
“How’em I supposed to remember that? Not like a scumbag. No suit, but I thought he might have been an undercover cop. ’Cept the narcs I know try to look like addicts, you know what I mean?”
“You have a good memory.”
“Two bills? Don’t see those here. Counting pennies for a bottle of beer, sure, got that going down.”
“Anything else you can remember?”
“No, and I’d tell you, honest. You just killed my business for the next two hours, buddy. Everyone on the block pegged you for a cop. My dad is going to shoot me.”
Noah handed him his card. “Thanks for your help.” He glanced up and saw the security camera. “Any chance you have that guy on surveillance?”
The kid shook his head. “No chance. We copy over the tapes every twenty-four hours. My dad’s cheap, and tapes cost a lot, and do you know how much it costs to go digital?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lucy closed her eyes as she savored the dark chocolate Haagen-Dazs ice cream Sean brought her.
“Umm.”
“Good?”
“Umm-hmm.”
Kate hit Sean in the shoulder. “You didn’t bring me any?”
“I’m sure Lucy will share.”
“No I won’t,” Lucy said between bites. “I’m the invalid here.”
Kate snorted and waved her hand around the family room. Lucy had taken over the coffee table with all the files and notes Noah had sent over. Her laptop was open and Noah had given her access to the complete Wendy James file. Because she’d been out of the loop on the James case for the last two days, she wanted to go through those documents first, with an eye for any connection to Ivy Harris or the murder victims.
“I need the chocolate to keep me focused on the task at hand,” Lucy said.
Kate sat on one of the chairs, tucked her shoulder-length blond hair behind her ears, and picked up a file.
“Wait,” Lucy said, “if you want to help, first read the Cyber Crime Unit report.” She leaned over and handed Kate the appropriate file, then took another big scoop of ice cream and put the lid on the carton. She started to get up to put it in the freezer, when Sean grabbed it from her.
“Sit.” He walked into the kitchen to put it away. Lucy glanced up when he came in a few minutes later, holding the cat. He sat down and adjusted the cat in his lap to pet him. The cat purred happily.
“Did you pick a name for him?” Lucy asked.
“Why does Sean get to name the cat?” Kate said.
“Because he’s taking him when I’m at the Academy.”
“No he’s not.” Kate looked from Lucy to Sean, narrowing her gaze to a glare. “You travel too much, Rogan.”
“Patrick and I are rarely gone at the same time.”
“I’m here every night. The cat needs consistency.”
