Davis kept watching the clock on the far wall. He was trapped in his second official Fusion Center meeting, which now was approaching three hours.
Grayce and Mitzi should be wrapping up their visit to Mrs. Leary. Since he’d discovered that Grayce’s brakes had been sabotaged, he monitored every minute of her day.
She had promised to text him when she had arrived safely back at her office where Nick Welby and Talley stood guard. Of course, Davis knew Grayce’s safety wasn’t the only reason Nick stationed himself in the front office.
Grayce had refused to have the sergeant accompany her to her appointment. Grayce had put her foot down. There was only so much protection that she could tolerate.
His phone vibrated during the meeting, just loud enough for the presenter to hear. He turned toward Davis.
“Sorry for the interruption. I’m on-call for the department.”
Grayce’s office number appeared. Not sure why she was calling instead of texting. He’d be able to call in fifteen minutes, during the break.
Finally, after an overly detailed description of the statewide Integrated Intelligence System, Davis went into the corridor and called Grayce’s cell. No answer. She was supposed to have her phone with her at all times. He dialed the office phone. Hollie didn’t pick up.
There was a recorded message on the phone. Alarm shot through him. Where was everyone? He dialed Nick’s cell.
The phone rang interminably. His heart hammered against his chest. The phone call from Grayce’s office had been less than thirty minutes before. What had happened in the short time that no one answered? Sweat pooled on his back, on his hands and under his arms. He recognized the smell of fear. His imagination went wild. He had seen too much not to consider all sorts of deadly possibilities.
He called Grayce again as he sprinted to his car. He wondered if he should call the police. Grayce would be infuriated if she were seeing a patient and the police arrived.
Why wasn’t Nick picking up his phone? What kind of bodyguard didn’t respond?
He drove furiously toward Grayce’s office, but he was twenty minutes away from Fremont.
He tried Nick’s cell one last time before he’d call the police.
He could barely hear the phone ringing over the roaring pulse in his ears as he waited for Nick to answer. Panic was edging into his body. He kept trying to reassure himself that there must be a simple, plausible explanation. His experience as an investigator had taught him to trust his gut. Grayce was in trouble.
He picked up the phone to dial 911. The sound of his phone’s ring startled him. It was Nick.
“Nick, what the fuck? Why haven’t you answered?”
“We’ve got a situation, sir.” Davis recognized the lethally calm voice that boded nothing good.
“What the hell does that mean?” He hated being talked to in that controlled manner.
“There is a bomb down on Pier 69, set to blow up the Port Commissioner’s meeting.”
“How the hell would you know that?” Davis’ back went up—his mind was spinning—he needed to put his feet on the ground.
“Hollie and I discovered in the World of Warfare game that something big was going to happen so we came down here with Angie. Talley discovered the bomb.”
“Where is Grayce?” Davis’ voice got rougher as his lungs tightened in anxiety.
“We’ve been trying to call her at Mrs. Leary’s to tell her about the meeting and that we were leaving the office. She hasn’t picked up. Hollie said she’s terrible about answering her phone. We’ve been calling her for the last hour. She should be finished with her visit by now. I then tried to call you, sir. And you didn’t answer. And since we got down here, all hell has broken loose. The bomb squad is here, right now.”
“Where is Grayce?”
“I don’t know, sir. Hollie wants to speak with you.”
“Davis.” Hollie’s voice was tremulous, the tough-ass street kid long gone. Davis was unnerved by the dramatic change. “We can’t find Grayce. She isn’t answering her phone.”
Ugly, gross fear shook his body, as his adrenaline surged. “Give me Mrs. Leary’s number.”
“I don’t have the number with me. I know we were supposed to guard Grayce, but I thought she was fine. I’m so afraid something happened to her.”
“Calm down, Hollie.”
“Wait, Davis.”
Davis could hear Hollie speaking to another woman. He heard “Hunter Hines” and “military intelligence” and a shock quaked through him. He hadn’t been able to find anything about Hunter Hines. Everyone in the digital age had a footprint unless they were a covert or a criminal.
“Davis, you still there? Maddy, Angie’s friend, wants to talk with you. She has information. Here she is.”
“Sir, I’ll be brief. I’ve been working undercover with Hunter Hines, tracking the leader of an ecoterrorist group. He’s responsible for several bombing threats at military bases.”
Davis’ mind reeled with the implications of what Grayce had stumbled upon. “He planned the attack on Pier 69?”
“No, sir. It’s a member of his group, a Brandon Billow, but we think that’s an alias. He’s been working with a guy named Gator.”
“The guy who Grayce believed tampered with her brakes?”
“Yes, he is the same. I just notified Hunter of the bomb situation. He’s been tracking Gator. And sir, Hunter witnessed Dr. Walters get into a car with someone he suspects might be one of Gator’s associates. We don’t have an ID on him yet.”
“Why in the hell would Hunter allow Grayce to get into the car?” He knew the damn answer before he asked. If he were tracking a suspect, he’d want to glean as much information as he could before he called for backup.
“Sir, I know you’re an investigator and have FBI clearance or I wouldn’t be allowed to share this information. We’re talking about a terrorist cell in Seattle. Hunter is following Dr. Walters and has put the FBI on high alert.
“Grayce is a hostage and all he’s doing is following?” His anger spilled over, rushing into his entire being.
“We don’t know if this man is connected to Brandon Billow or Gator.”
“But you do know that Gator is connected to Brandon Billow who just tried to blow up Pier 69.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Give me Hunter’s number. Which way were they headed? Do you have an ID on the car?”
“You’ll have to ask Hunter about the car. I’ve been pretty busy here, sir.”
“Where are they?”
“1-5 south. Sir, Hunter Hines will protect Dr. Walters at all cost.”
Davis sped to the next exit to reverse his direction. He took the 45th street exit and raced down 1-5 south as he dialed Hunter Hines. The son of a bitch better pick up.
“Hunter Hines here.”
“This is Ewan Davis. I just got off the phone with Maddy.” Hell, he didn’t even know the woman’s last name. “You still have Grayce in your sight? I want backup called right now,” he barked.
“The FBI has been alerted, but I don’t want a major presence to alert the guy and spook him into rash behavior.”
“Do you have eyes on Grayce?”
“Yes, she is in the front seat and appears unharmed. No force was used when she got into the car.”
“What the hell?” Davis’ mind raced. What could’ve made Grayce get into that car?
“When she freely got into the car, I first thought you’d hired private security. It was only by accident I saw her. I was following Gator, but lost him when he went down an alley.”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m on 1-5 south by the 1-90 exchange. FBI is on stand-by waiting for the suspect’s direction.”
“I’m ten minutes behind you.” Or less, if traffic didn’t routinely back up in the downtown area. He drove eighty miles an hour, swerving around cars in every lane.
“Who is the guy who has Grayce?”
“I don’t know, possibly Brandon Billow with an altered appearance. He doesn’t match Maddy’s description. This guy is clean-shaven, has a military look to him. What is his connection to Dr. Walters?”
“I wish I knew. It makes no sense. All I have is that Grayce was set up and you and Gator were following her before the accident.”
“But why does this guy want Dr. Walters?”
“Hell, she was trying to help your mother. Everything else makes no sense. All I could find was that Gator was a lowlife thug, drugs, pimping, B and E. And, of course, your record has been swept clean.”
“You’re right about Gator. I have no idea how he’s connected to ecoterrorists, but I have a feeling he’s a gun for hire.”
“Do you have an ID on the car?”
“A black Lexus SUV registered to a Meryl Billow on Mercer Island. Haven’t been able to contact the owner, but I know that Brandon Billow is using his mother’s car.”
“Listen, he just exited to the West Seattle Bridge. I’ve got to call in the backup.”
“I’m headed to the West Seattle Bridge, and I’ll call you in less than five to find out where you’re headed. And man, you answer the phone.”
“Right.”