Sight Unseen(95)
“So I guess Griffin doesn’t owe you after all.”
“What a disappointment.”
“Is he angry?”
“I don’t give a damn.” He looked at his Ferrari. “It’s in pretty good shape. You must have resisted temptation.”
“I didn’t drive it very much,” she said. “I just went to the park and sat and tried to make sense of everything.”
“And did you do it?”
“Not very well. But it’s looking better right now.” She moved toward the door. “And now that the governor did the right thing, we can get back to the business of finding Myatt. Where’s Griffin?”
“In the war room. Breathing fire.”
She could see what he meant when the elevator doors opened, and she saw Griffin.
“I guess you’re happy,” he spat out bitterly when he saw her.
“Not happy. But a little more … satisfied.”
Griffin cursed and walked over to the uncovered windows where there had once been a row of offices. The sun had just set, and the lights of the city twinkled in the distance. He called over his shoulder to Metcalf. “Anything in those prison files?”
Metcalf stepped forward. “A few things to follow up on. We won’t know until we—”
A high-pitched beep sounded from the phone-company technician’s laptop.
Kendra’s eyes flew up to the large projected map, which had remained unchanged all day long. But as the beeping continued, she noticed that a pulsing red dot now appeared on the map.
“What does that mean?” she yelled over the noise.
“I’ll check.” The technician, who had passed much of the day hovering near the desk of Griffin’s attractive assistant, snapped to attention and ran back to his laptop. “This is it.” His voice was filled with wonder. “One of the phones has made contact with the network.”
Griffin ran back from the windows. “Where?”
“Northeast of the city.” He picked up his phone. “I’ll see how far we can narrow the location.”
San Quentin State Penitentiary
Death-Watch Cell
COLBY STARED AT THE NEW JEANS and denim work shirt that one of his death-watch guards, Tom Lester, handed him. “What’s this?”
“Put them on, please.”
Colby raised his eyebrows. “Please? That’s the first time I’ve heard that word in all the years I’ve been here. Dead Man Walking evidently has its privileges.”
The guard pointed to the crisp new clothing. “It’s routine. It’s almost time. Do it.”
“Funny. A costume for an execution. May I have some privacy while I change?”
“Not a chance.”
Colby nodded to Lester and his fellow guard, Patrick Nevis. “Of course. The death watch. Can’t have me killing myself before the big show.” He pointed to his left. “The execution chamber is just on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?”
“Just put on the clothes.”
Colby turned his back on the guards, stripped out of his prison uniform, and pulled on the jeans and shirt. He turned back around and adjusted the collar. “Blue really isn’t my color, you know.”
“Sit down, Colby.”
He smiled and sat on the edge of the bunk. “Be nice. You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”
FBI Field Office
San Diego
“GROUP LEADERS, PREPARE TO MOBILIZE your response teams. We have an active target.” Griffin whirled away from the gathered agents and leaned toward the telephone-company technician, who was still on the phone and scribbling furiously on a Post-it note. “Got it?”
The technician tore off the note and handed it to Griffin. “That phone is most likely within thirty yards of this address. They just confirmed it at the office.”
“It’s 26613 Breaker Drive,” Griffin said. “Get the response teams rolling. I want the names of every resident on the street. Reade, let’s see if there’s a match with anyone on the suspect database you’ve been compiling.”
Reade was already pounding her keyboard. “I have the resident list up. Cross-referencing now.”
Kendra stepped closer and looked over Reade’s shoulder at the dozens of names displayed on the laptop screen.
She went rigid with shock. “No,” she whispered.
Lynch quickly moved closer to her. “What is it?”
She shook her head dazedly. “It’s crazy.” She moistened her lips. “It has to be a coincidence. The third name on the list. Dean Halley. A history professor. He works with my mother. He was with me on the bridge that night. But I can’t believe that he’s the…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to comprehend and connect the dots. “But he does have a prison record, and it might not be for the reason he told me. But he was so damn … plausible.”