73

Hill’s phone rang. He lifted it as he read a file. “Jimmy Hill.”

“It’s Timo. Tran’s not answering his phone.”

“He went to take a leak. Why?”

“Potential break on your case.”

Which case?”

“Robbins. I’m sending you a video. We got a hit on a traffic cam, facial recognition. Lots of false positives. I need a confirmatory ID before I alert local PD.”

Hill navigated to his email and found Tim Gates’s message. He opened the attachment and watched the looping clip.

“Whoa. Yeah. Not only is that Amy Robbins, that’s Melissa Ellis. The girl. She’s got some kind of—what is that, a mask?”

“That’s my guess. Maybe a disguise?”

“Maybe. Where is this?”

“Diablo Canyon.”

“Where the hell’s Diablo Canyon?”

“Just outside San Luis Obispo.”

“And yes, Loren turned on her radio. Was only on a couple minutes. I took me awhile but I triangulated and it was coming from Greenfield, a few miles south of Soledad.”

“Soledad. You sure?”

“Lots of mountains around there,” Gates said. “And service is spotty, so I’m fairly sure. Not guaranteed. Somewhere near there. That’s what took me so long. More than that I can’t do without diverting a lot more resources. Mountain signed off on this, but that’s all you’re gonna get. She turns it on again, we’re not gonna know. I won’t be ‘listening.’”

“No, no, this is great. I’ll alert SLOPD about Robbins and the girl. Good work.”

“Computer algorithms. All technology. I had nothing to do with it. The facial rec—”

“Dude. Dude. Not important. We can talk about that later.”

Hill hung up, called SLOPD and forwarded the traffic cam capture, gave them the location, and set the wheels in motion. He thought about calling the FBI’s Los Angeles Division office to request two agents, but figured they would be dispatched from the Santa Maria Resident Agency, which was a great deal closer. He phoned them directly.

Minh was returning to his desk when Hill jumped out of his seat, grabbing his FBI windbreaker in one motion. “We got a hit.”

“A hit? On Robbins?”

“Yeah, Timo just called me. Traffic cam, facial recognition. Positive ID. And we got a ping on Loren’s radio. Near Soledad. Grab your stuff. We’re going to San Luis Obispo.”

“Us? Aren’t they coming out of … that would be LA.”

“Santa Maria RA. But this is our case. And it’s Loren. I want to be there to find out what the hell’s going on, look her in the eyes.”

“Soledad’s about an hour and a half, two hours from SLO, depending on traffic. You really think that’s where Loren’s headed?”

“Yep,” Hill said as he started down the corridor toward the elevators. “I’d put money on it.”