March 8, 8.56 p.m.
Harper and Eddie were driving fast through Brownsville.
‘Where are you?’ asked Gerry.
‘We’re coming back the same way,’ said Harper. ‘Is there no other route?’
‘This is pretty obsessive stuff, Harper. She runs the exact same route, has done for three months. She times it and tries to beat it. She’s brought her time down by twenty minutes. She’s got some strength.’
‘But she’s not here,’ said Harper.
‘Keep circling,’ Gerry told him. ‘I’ll keep looking.’
Harper turned to Eddie. ‘She’s gone off the path.’
‘Or someone made her.’
Harper felt the flurry of anxiety again. ‘I called Hate Crime. They can’t find these guys anywhere.’
Eddie turned the car and they started back up through the streets of Brownsville.
Harper’s cell went again. He picked up. It was Gerry Ratten. ‘What is it?’
‘I had a thought. If her GPS watch is sending out signals and getting pinpoint location . . .’
‘Can you trace it?’
‘I’m waiting. I called the company. They want a warrant. They can’t release location information.’
‘They’re sticking to that?’
Harper hit the window. ‘Come on.’
‘So,’ said Gerry, ‘I tried a little trick or two I know.’
‘And?’
‘The watch sends signals back to base. You can get your runs logged in real-time to share with others and race with others. I’ve signed her up for this service. It’s just loading up.’
Harper held his breath. Gerry kept them waiting. ‘It’s worked,’ said Gerry. ‘I got it live. Not quite live. But three minutes ago she was two blocks west from where you are. Then left.’
‘Let’s go, Eddie. Two blocks.’