Committed (7 page)

“Let’s see if we can get them leaving on the exit cam and get you a tag number,” the security guard said.

“They’re not leaving yet,” I said. “The truck driver saw the vehicle at the RV.”

He clicked a few keys on the keyboard and brought up the final camera angle for the side dedicated to passenger cars. We watched as the Toyota made a hard left back into the lot dedicated to buses, semis, and larger vehicles.

“Get the exit camera angle on that side,” Bill said.

The guard pulled it up. We had a crystal-clear shot of the front of the car entering the exit, as well as an equally clear tag number on the screen.

“Pause that,” I said. I pulled my notepad from my pocket and jotted down the tag number. “You guys finish watching that and see if there is anything else useful and then find out who that vehicle is registered to. I’m going to go get the tag number to Scott so he can get it out across the wire. He was just calling everyone with the vehicle description. We need this tag number added to that right away.”

“I’ll call back to Manassas,” Bill said. “Marcus and Lewis should be able to get everything and hopefully get us a location from the guy’s cell phone.”

I turned and left the security office and found Scott still with the truck driver.

“We got a tag,” I said from twenty feet away as I tapped the front of my open notepad.

He left the man at the side of the semi and walked to me. “You have them on video?”

“Yeah, I just watched it. Let’s get this tag number distributed.”

Scott held out his hand for my notepad, and I handed it off.

We’d had the BOLO out on the car for the better part of three hours, and we’d expanded it to neighboring states. The helicopters covering the grid spotted four vehicles matching the description from the air. Local sheriff’s deputies had pulled over each vehicle even though none of the tags were a match. We weren’t taking any chances since they could have swapped plates. As it turned out, none of the stopped vehicles had our couple. Agents Makara and Gents waited at the rest stop—they were going to get the RV towed back to Omaha and have their forensics unit go over the vehicle with a fine-toothed comb.

Scott had gotten word that the helicopters had to suspend the search due to darkness. The tech twins back in Manassas got nothing on the man’s phone. The last cell-tower ping would have put him somewhere in the area, but the phone was off, and they couldn’t get a GPS signal for it. As far as finding the vehicle or its occupants, we didn’t get anywhere. We did, however, get all the information on the man, who we hoped wouldn’t become Nick Frane and Molly McCoy’s next victim. The man’s name was Lindsay Dunbar. He was sixty-four years old, listed as single, from Lexington, Kentucky. What he was doing around Omaha, we didn’t know. Ball was trying to get a hold of some of the man’s family to get more information.

Beth waited to make a left into the hotel’s parking structure. Bill and Scott were directly ahead of us, waiting to do the same. We figured we’d need a point as a home base until the case took us elsewhere. Jim, back in Manassas, had booked us a handful of rooms at The Residence Inn, located in downtown Omaha. He said the hotel was centrally located, allowing us easy access to just about any major interstate out of the area, and the Omaha branch of the Bureau was just a ten-minute drive away. Bill and Scott turned left into the parking structure, and we followed. We found two spots together a few levels up, grabbed our things, and headed down. The four of us hit the sidewalk out front, wheeling our suitcases toward our hotel on the corner of the block.

I glanced at my watch as we walked. The time was a bit after six thirty, and from the color of the sky, I could tell the sun would be down within minutes.

“Wonder what this building used to be,” Beth said. She nodded toward the words
United States of America
carved above the entrance.

“Jim said it was the old federal office building,” Bill said. “They turned it into a hotel a few years back, I guess. Well, at least that’s what Jim said.”

I took a moment to look up. Below the words Beth had mentioned, and directly above the entrance doors, was an eagle, with shields carved into the stone to the bird’s sides. The first three stories of the building that included the carvings were tan. Above the first three floors were another ten stories of gray brick. It was a good-looking old building, and if it had been federal at one time, I guessed it made a good fit for us.

We walked under the glass-and-steel awning and entered through the doors into the maroon-and-tan marbled entryway. I grabbed the brass railing and climbed the couple of steps. Directly ahead of us were a pair of brass-doored elevators. We found the front desk, got the keys for our rooms, and took the elevator up. All four of us were on the sixth floor yet spread out a bit. Though Beth’s and my rooms were next to each other in numbering, the spacing between them seemed odd—her door was quite a ways farther down the hall. Bill’s and Scott’s rooms were on the other side of the elevators. The plan was to get settled and meet downstairs in a half hour. I slid the plastic key card in the door and pushed it open.

“Hmm,” I said to myself. “Guess I wasn’t expecting that.” I took a step inside and let the door close at my back. My line of sight went left to right across the modern suite. I left my suitcase near the front door and walked to the desk to set down my laptop bag. Then I pulled off my suit jacket and hung it over the back of the office chair.

“Let’s see what the rest of this place looks like.”

I grabbed my suitcase and headed to the left, through the open doorway to a single bedroom with a king-sized bed. I tossed my suitcase onto the bed, walked through the next doorway, and flipped on the light of a giant marble-covered bathroom.

“Nice place,” I said in approval. I flicked the light off and plopped down on the bed. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialed Karen. She picked up within a couple of rings.

“Hey, hon,” she said. “I just got home a minute ago. What’s up?”

“Nothing. We just got to a hotel in Omaha.”

“Omaha?” Karen asked. “I thought you were in Des Moines.”

“Yeah, we’re chasing. Had a couple things tied to these two today that brought us this way.”

“Do I want to know?” she asked.

“I’m sure you can find out if you flip on the television.” I pushed my suitcase off the bed and swung my feet up onto it. I put my head on the pillow, stretched out, and stared at the ceiling. “They’re running, basically killing anyone in their path along the way. We need to come up with something to put us in front of them. Otherwise, we’ll keep doing the same thing—looking at what they leave behind and scratching our heads.”

“Do you know where they’re headed yet?”

“No clue. The last point we have them is in a stolen car, with a possible hostage, heading west on the interstate a few miles from here. By morning, who knows where the hell they’ll be?”

“Nothing you can do anymore tonight, huh?”

“We’re going to meet downstairs in a bit and discuss it. Aside from getting in our cars and aimlessly driving, hoping we spot them, no. As bad as it sounds, we almost need them to strike again to even see which direction they’re going.”

“Sorry, babe.”

“Yeah, anyway, I’m sure I’ll get my fill of talking about the investigation over the next few days. Let’s change the subject. What are your plans for the night?”

“Absolutely nothing. Well, I shouldn’t say that. I’m going to continue to make sure these couch cushions don’t go anywhere. I just started a new series. Well, I started it a few days ago actually, when you were sleeping. I’m about halfway done with the first season now.”

“New series? You’re starting new shows without me?”

“There’s only three seasons so far. I figured I could get the whole show done while you were gone. I don’t think you’d like it anyway.”

“What is it about?”

“Um, a psychic that helps the LAPD with unsolved murders. He gets visions of the crimes after reading the files. Well, then he and a pair of detectives follow up on the visions and solve the case.”

“Sounds believable,” I said.

“It’s television, Hank.”

“So that’s it? He gets visions and solves the case? Sounds like a hell of a skill to have.”

“Well, he also gets messages from the dead victims, which helps.”

“Of course he does. What kind of messages? Text? E-mail?” I asked.

“They come in his dreams.”

I chuckled. “Probably fine that you’re watching that one without me.”

“Kind of what I thought,” she said.

I brought my wrist up in front of my face and caught the time. “Hey, babe, I’m going to need to run. I’ll call you a little later.”

“Okay. Love you. Be safe.”

“Love you too, and I will. Enjoy your psychic-cop-dead-talker-guy show.”

Karen laughed. “I will. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.” I clicked End on my phone.

I rolled over in the bed, kicked my feet off the side to the floor, and sat up. I had just about enough time to make myself a cup of coffee from the room’s mini coffee maker before I had to be downstairs to meet with the team. I was pretty certain the flavor would be awful, but the caffeine was going to be needed. I stood, walked to the next room, with the desk and sofa, and made my coffee. With the cardboard cup of coffee in hand, I let the room door close at my back and made a left toward the elevators. I heard another door behind me when I was halfway down the hall. I glanced back to see Beth.

“Wait up,” she said.

I did.

Beth came to my side before we continued down the hall. “Nice suites, hey?”

“Yeah, Jim must be buttering us up for something.”

“His birthday is probably coming up would be my guess. Anyway, I just called Ball.”

“For?” I asked.

“I think our best chance of catching up with these two is going to be connected to this girl, Molly McCoy.”

“What do you mean?”

We stopped at the elevator doors, and I thumbed the button to take us down.

“Think about it,” she said. “This guy was in Louisiana. As far as anything I’ve heard from Scott or Bill, he doesn’t have ties to anything up here, so why come up here? I mean, if your goal is to flee out of the US and you’re in Louisiana, common sense says you go to Mexico. It’s a nine- or ten-hour drive—not twenty-four and across an entire country that’s looking for you.”

“Right,” I said.

The elevator doors opened and took us inside. I hit the button for the lobby.

“So by that logic,” I said, “what Scott was thinking might be right. These two could be headed for somewhere in Montana. From there, they may be crossing the border.”

“No real way to know for certain,” Beth said. “But we need to be prepared if that is a possibility.”

I nodded. “We don’t have anything else to really go on. At least starting to monitor everyone in Montana that’s ever been connected to her, is an attempt to get ahead of them.”

“I agree,” Beth said.

The elevator doors opened and let us out into the lobby. Beth and I headed for the lounge.

Nick and Molly sat in camping chairs around a campfire. The site they sat at, rented by an RV-traveling man named Joey, and his wife Heather, was across the road and one down from Nick and Molly’s campsite. Molly’s eyes were locked on the three-foot flames flickering and illuminating the area.

“Another beer?” Joey asked.

“Nah, I don’t want to drink all your beer. I’m good,” Nick said.

“Ah, we’ve got plenty. Heather here isn’t much of a beer drinker, and I just picked up a thirty pack.” Joey stood from his chair near the fire and walked to the cooler sitting outside the front door of the RV. The man looked to be in his forties and wore a pair of faded blue jeans with a black hooded sweatshirt. Joey flipped the lid and reached his hand inside the cooler. Ice, beer cans, and water crunched together. Joey flipped the lid closed and walked back toward the group. He handed Nick the beer. “Are you girls good on drinks?” he asked.

“I’m fine, babe,” Heather said. She swished the wine remaining in her glass. The woman’s blond hair hung down over her thin face and covered her shoulders.

“And you, Katie?” Joey asked.

“I’m still good, thanks,” Molly said.

The man briefly looked at the fire and walked back toward the RV. He pulled a few logs from what he called the RV’s basement and walked them back to the fire. Joey tossed two on and retook his seat in the camping chair between his wife and Nick.

“So, Tim, how long have you been in construction?” Joey asked.

Nick cracked open his beer and took a drink. “What has it been? Sixteen years now? I’ve been doing it since I was fresh out of high school, basically.”

“Commercial or residential?” Joey asked.

“Commercial. I do okay. It pays the bills.”

“He’s being a bit modest,” Molly said. “He does better than just paying the bills. His income allows me to stay at home with our daughter. Her grandparents are watching her for the next few nights though, while we get some time away.”

“That must be nice,” Heather said. She took a drink from her wine.

“So, Joey, you said you owned a restaurant franchise?” Molly asked.

“A few of them, actually.”

“Eight now,” Heather said. “All around the Atlanta area, where we’re from.”

“Wow, that’s pretty cool,” Molly said.

“Yeah, we have a really good staff,” Joey said. “We’re kind of hands off and only pop in when needed, now. Early retirement, I guess.”

Nick chuckled. “Sounds like the good life.”

“It wasn’t without a lot of elbow grease in the early years,” Heather said.

Nick turned in his chair and looked back at the RV parked behind them. “What is that, Joey? A 2014?”

“Fifteen, actually. We just picked her up the beginning of the year,” Joey said. “We had a couple-year-older one that we traded in. Are you guys into RVing?”

“We borrowed a Dolphin for a short trip a while back. We’re in the market for picking one up, actually. What model is that?” Nick asked.

“Forest River Berkshire.”

“And what is that, a forty?” Nick asked.