“It’s registered to the Duttons. We found it in some woods about a mile from here. They’d driven the damn thing down into a ditch. Probably for concealment.”
“Any signs of where they went from there?”
“Still checking the truck out for trace. They must’ve had another vehicle nearby, but we didn’t find any evidence of that. We’re canvassing, see if anybody saw anything. No hits yet.” He eyed Michelle. “You sure it was two guys?”
“One submachine gunner, one driver. I saw the wheelman through the windshield. Tall. Definitely a guy.”
Sean checked his watch. “With the time she’s been missing and calculating driving radius in all directions you’re looking at thousands of miles they could have covered, easily.”
“By private jet, they could be anywhere in the world,” added Michelle.
“I take it no ransom note has been received?”
Waters turned to face Sean. From the expression on the man’s features it was clear that the short leash had just come off. “You know, I did some digging on you. Does it still hurt that you were thrown out of the Service on your ass for screwing up and costing a guy his life? That must be some serious shit to have to deal with. Ever think about eating a round because of it? I mean, it’d be understandable and all.”
“Look, Agent Waters, I know this is an awkward situation. And I know it seems like we’ve been crammed down your throat—”
“Nothing seemed about it, you have been crammed down my throat,” he declared.
“Fine. I’ll make a deal with you. If we crack something or get onto a lead, we’ll provide it to you to run with. I could give a shit about nailing any headlines from this. I just want to find Willa, okay?”
Waters took a few seconds to think about this, but then finally put out his hand for Sean to shake. But when Sean reached for it, Waters pulled it back and said, “I don’t need you to provide me with anything about this case. Now, something else you want to look at while I’m babysitting you and your partner?”
“Yeah, how about your brain?” snapped Michelle. “Where is it, still stuck up your ass?”
“This pissing contest isn’t getting us any closer to finding Willa,” Sean pointed out.
“That’s right,” agreed Waters. “And the longer I have to deal with you two, the less time I have to actually work my case.”
“Then we won’t waste any more of your time,” said Sean.
“Thanks for nothing.”
“Mind if we look around a bit before we leave?” When Waters looked ready to refuse, Sean added, “I want to make sure my report to President Cox is complete. And I’ll be certain to inform him of how helpful you’ve been.”
If Waters had gone any paler the forensic techs on site would’ve slipped him into a body bag. “Hey, King, wait a minute,” he said nervously.
Sean was already heading down the stairs.
When Michelle caught up to him she said, “Guys like that make me so proud to be an American.”
“Forget him. You remember Tuck’s bag, the one with the airline tag on it?”
“Garment bag, navy blue, standard lightweight polyester. Slightly ragged. Why?”
“Carry-on size?”
“Considering that these days people schlep packing crates the size of my SUV onto a plane? Yeah, definitely carry-on.”
Sean whipped out his phone and punched some numbers. He let the screen load and then worked through several more layers. “United Flight 567 into Dulles from Jacksonville?”
“Right.”
He stared at the tiny screen. “That flight routinely gets in at 9:30 p.m. He deplanes, goes to his car, and drives home. How long do you reckon that would take him?”
“Depends on which terminal it came into, because that determines if he had to use a people mover to go to the main terminal. Terminal A he could just walk.”
Sean made a quick phone call. He clicked off. “It gates at Terminal A.”