“Bell?”
“Cross?” He mocked my inflection.
“Where is he?”
“I talk. You listen. Now, I want both of you to take out your own phones and hold them in the air. Hold them between two fingers, if you would.”
“No, you listen to me. I want to talk to Sampson before I do anything.”
There was a pause and a shuffle, then I heard a muted “It’s for you.”
Then Sampson’s voice, clear and unmistakable. “Alex, don’t do it!”
“John—” I called out.
But Bell was already back on the line. “Your phones? In the air. Both of them.”
I swiveled around and scanned the garage. Someone was definitely watching us, relaying information, but I didn’t see anyone anywhere.
“Now or never, Dr. Cross. You don’t want me hanging up on you. Trust me. You don’t.”
“Bree, get out your phone. Hold it in the air.”
He had us put the cell phones behind the back wheels of my car and then get in.
“Now back up. Over the phones. Then leave the garage, and take a right turn.”
“Where are we going?”
“No questions. Just go. Hurry! Time’s running out.” I heard the crunch of our cells as I backed out over them.
“Fuck,” Bree muttered. She wasn’t angry about the phones, just that we were following his orders.
We had barely hit the street when Bree scribbled something and held it down low for me to see. Black Highlander, DC plates. Female. Two cars behind.
I saw the Highlander and the woman driver in my rearview mirror. Long, dark hair. Sunglasses. I couldn’t tell much of anything else.
“Who’s the tail, Bell? Is that my friend from Baltimore?”
There was a sickening thud on the line, and I heard Sampson moan loudly.
“That’s what questions get you from here on out. Got any more?”
I didn’t answer.
“Good thinking. Now take a left at the next light and keep your fucking mouths shut unless I ask for your opinion.”
Chapter 115
I WOULD HAVE PROBABLY suspended another officer for doing what we were doing, but with Sampson’s life in jeopardy, I didn’t see how there was any choice. For the next few minutes, Bree and I stuck to hand gestures and notes while DCAK barked out directions.
The black Highlander with the woman driver stayed right with us, never getting more than a couple of car lengths behind.
Bree scribbled, Idea where we’re going?
I shook my head. Just enough for her to see.
How do we turn this thing around?