“We’re both going with you,” James says. “And don’t try to dissuade.”
For the next minute, Kynan and James bicker. James threatens to follow in his own car, and Kynan threatens to have his men forcibly stopped. James tells him he’d like to see him try and cracks his knuckles like a caveman.
Bebe flies back into the room with her equipment bag and scolds, “Stop arguing. Let’s go.”
Kynan’s eyes flash with anger, but he relents, pointing first to James, then me. “You’re both going to stay in the car when we get there.”
“Fine,” I snap and move toward the front door. Everyone follows me out to Kynan’s vehicle.
James and I take the back and Bebe is in front, already clacking away on her laptop when we pull out.
As we’re exiting the driveway, Dozer’s dad reaches over and takes my hand, giving it a quick squeeze before releasing it again. It comforts me, and I reach back for his hand, gripping it.
“I’ve pinged the receiver, and it seems to be functioning,” Bebe says.
“Did the chip malfunction?” I ask.
She glares over her shoulder at me. “Of course it didn’t malfunction.”
I give her an apologetic look.
“They either have a jammer set up, or they found it with a wand and destroyed it. I’m thinking a jammer since it went dark not long after pulling into that neighborhood while the car was still moving. But I’d guess that jammer was in a house fairly close by.”
“How close?” Kynan asks.
“Three square blocks?” she guesses. “Maybe more.”
“That’s a lot of houses,” Kynan muses.
“I’m guessing going door to door posing as vacuum cleaner salesmen isn’t going to work,” James says.
“And it won’t work for the police to knock on doors. They have absolutely no probable cause to enter any particular home unless the vehicle Borovsky’s men were in is parked outside, and we know damn well they’re not that stupid. If I had to guess, I’d say the jammer is in the house, not because they were expecting Dozer to be bugged, but as a general protection against eavesdropping by the police.”
“In other words,” I conclude, “that house belongs to someone in the criminal organization.”
“Maybe. It’s a very high-end neighborhood, so it probably belongs to someone high up in the chain,” Bebe muses. “Or it could simply be a house they broke into because the owners are away somewhere, and they brought a jammer with them. The FBI can work those angles.”
“Jess.” Kynan glances in the rearview mirror at me. “Did you meet many of Borovsky’s friends when you were dating him?”
“Not a lot, but we went out to dinner with some. Met some at nightclubs. A few dinner parties. None who lived in this area, though.”
“That’s okay,” Kynan says thoughtfully. “Bebe… can you get pictures of the owners of these houses?”
Bebe turns to look at him. “You know I hacked our country’s nuclear codes.”
“Sorry,” Kynan replies with a sheepish smile. “Get on those pictures. And maybe tap the security cameras around the area. We’ll have Jess look at photos to see if she can identify anyone she’s met before.”
That’s brilliant. That seems like it would take a lot of time, but Bebe is a wizard when it comes to getting things she shouldn’t.
Kynan picks up his phone, eyes moving from the road to the screen, and taps in a number. It comes through the Bluetooth speakers, and I recognize Malik’s voice when he answers. “What do you need?”
“Go to the SAC and have him give you the list of informants they’ve been dealing with. You go to them directly. Offer $100,000 for viable information to find Dozer.”
“On it,” he says and disconnects.
“SAC?” James asks.
“Special agent in charge,” Kynan explains. “The informants are tapped out, but it could be they just need their lips loosened. They’re often not as forthcoming with law enforcement as they would be with someone like Malik, who is a civilian flashing money. He’ll also ask them if they know who lives in this neighborhood.”
I let out a heaving sigh. So much has happened in the last five minutes, my head is spinning.
“We’ve got resources,” Kynan says, and I realize he’s talking to me again. Our eyes connect briefly in the rearview mirror. “We’re getting Dozer back safe and sound, I promise.”
CHAPTER 20
Dozer
I’m roughly pulled from the car, just enough to get me over the lip of the trunk, and then they let me fall to the concrete. I land on my right side, pain shooting through my shoulder. The oil stains tell me I’m in a garage.
I’m hauled up by two men and walked into a house that, at first glance, rivals my dad’s. Huge with massive, vaulted ceilings, done in classic Mediterranean style with stuccoed walls, ceramic-tile floors, and arched entryways. Whoever lives here has exquisite taste in furniture and art, although I don’t make those observations out of appreciation. I memorize details in case I need them later.