56

Agents, cops, and firemen were scattered over the lawn like ants. The house had burned hot and fast. His hearing came back in increments. The last guy Jim spoke to figured there was a large amount of accelerant expelled during the explosion. No one there was a bomb specialist, but that much was obvious.

He sat beside Ava on the tailgate of the fire marshal’s truck, drinking off-brand bottled water and waiting as the crew searched the smoldering structure for any remains. Jim’s gut told him Sandy and Dan were not in there.

Neither of them had spoken for a few minutes, both staring at the remains of the house.

Agents had found two other triggers. The bomb could have been set off from the front porch or a trigger by the pond. The entire property had been booby-trapped.

“That was close, Agent Webb.”

She let out a little laugh. Her hair was free and dangling in her face. Mud drenched her white shirt. She’d lost one of her shoes. “Again, I think you can call me Ava. After all, you saved my life.”

Jim said nothing. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being on a first-name basis with her. He’d been calling her by her given name in his mind since the scene at the house. Out loud was another matter. She was strong, beautiful.

He took another drink of water. It was good. Soothing.

“Now what? Where would she take them?” She shoved her hair back again. It seemed to irritate her.

“Why not cut it off?”

“Cut what off?” She didn’t look at him. Just watched the men moving around with hoses and long pry bars.

“If your hair bothers you, why not cut it off?” Easy enough. He liked it, but he could understand why a woman in her position would keep it short.

She looked down at her hands. “I don’t want to come off too mannish at the office. I have enough trouble because of my job as it is.”

“Trouble?”

“Never mind, Bean.” She stood. The paramedic rushed over.

“You need to sit, ma’am. I wish you’d let us transport you. That’s a bad dislocation.” He’d iced and wrapped it but didn’t have the skills—or the pain meds—to reset the joint. Agent Webb—Ava—had refused to go to the hospital until she was sure no one was in that house.

One of her agents approached. “For you.” He held out the phone to Jim.

“Hello?”

“Hey, my man. Hear you’re having a blast up there.”

Ely always had a way with words. “Not funny.”

“You guys okay?”

“Head hurts. Ava has a few cuts and a dislocated shoulder.”

“Ava? Must be getting cozy.”

“Shut up. What do you have?”

“Well, I think I know where she might be going.”

Jim straightened. Ava turned her attention away from her agent and was obviously eavesdropping. He held the phone out some so she could hear.

“There’s one little cross-reference from a car sale. Elizabeth Stanton sold a 2009 Toyota and traded it in on a cargo van. One like the caterers and shit use. The dealer remembered the picture I sent him because the woman said she was buying the van for her aunt. She insisted the title be put in the name Eloise Fowler.”

He looked at Ava. “That name ring any bells for you?”

“None.”

Ely broke back in. “It shouldn’t. Eloise Fowler was a single woman, no kids, who died in a car accident four years ago. But I found where she got a ticket driving from California to Nevada last week.”

Ava stood, holding her arm, and looked at her guy. “You find any of this?”

He shook his head.

“You have an address, Ely?” she shouted a little too loud at the phone.

“Why yes, I do, Miss Lady Fed. And for you, I have one other little treat.”

“You do?”

“I found an online veterinary medical distribution. I called and said I was working for Dr. Eloise Fowler and needed some ketamine. That I didn’t have my account log in. They wouldn’t let me order, of course, but I managed to find out they sent a large shipment just last month to …”

This had to be where she went. It was her drop location. It may not have been her first choice, but Sophie had been numerous places. “Where is she?”

“Knoblesville, Indiana.”

“Text the address to this phone.” Ava was still loud talking. Evidently, her hearing wasn’t all the way back.

“Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am!” The phone dinged. The text was there.

“Nice work,” she said. “If you ever need a job, give me a ring.”

“Already did my civic duty, ma’am. I like my … recreational activities way too much for government work.”

Jim laughed. “You have Annie?”

“I do, indeed. She’s sleeping on the eagle as we speak.”

“Eagle?” Ava asked.

Jim eased off the tailgate. “Ely has some rather impressive hanging sculptures in his place. Annie likes them.”

Into the phone she said, “Later, Ely. Let me know if you find anything else.”

Jim paced away. “Sophie changed her plans. Why?”

“We got too close. This was her plan. To make a perfect home for Dan. She got spooked, took the waitress, and changed her destination. She’s unprepared. Probably angry. My bet is Dan’s not going along with her scheme. She’s going to get off-balanced in a hurry.”

“As if she’s not now.” Jim paced back.

“She’s been calm and collected for years. Her killings had been planned or at least convenient. Now she’s running. I bet she never considered what to do if we caught onto her. Psychopaths assume they are correct, even justified in everything they do. They have no respect for the police. Or you. Probably picked you because she thought you weren’t capable of figuring her out—no offense. Now that we’ve tracked her, she’s got to be in a panic. Or worse.”

“That makes her even more dangerous.” Jim thought of Cynthia Hodge, disfigured and dumped. The dead agent on the back porch of the safe house without a face. A limp Lynette Hodge in Stephen’s arms. He didn’t want to think of Sandy and Dan stuck with Sophie Evers as she fell apart.

And again, all because he’d found Dan for her. Fuck, he wished he hadn’t taken this job.

Jim looked at the young agent standing beside Ava. “Can you get us a ride to Indiana?”

He didn’t answer. Just looked over at Ava.

“Do it.”