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The makeshift white cardboard sign above the door said:
FEDERAL TASK FORCE
Mossbarger, the men he’d had with him at the Times, and the gawky kid who hijacked Ashley’s computer all manned desks in a large office somewhere in the basement of a federal building in downtown San Diego. Ashley sat at a long table sipping tea while studying the pictures Mossbarger had tacked up on a bulletin board. He dropped a file in front of her. “Check these out,” he said, pulling a chair up and sitting backward in it.
Ashley looked over and saw that Scott had fallen asleep with his head down on another desk. Sighing, she took the file and opened it. More reports and pictures of Justin Stephens. This was the information she needed to study the most, but her attention kept drifting back to the horror filled bulletin board. She sipped more tea, wiped her blurry eyes and looked up at the clock. Half past midnight. She and Scott had been here since six-thirty going over every detail of her connection to Stephens; everything except the whereabouts of Jeff Hamilton.
Ashley refrained from mentioning him, but as each hour passed, the question of his disappearance loomed heavier. She still felt suspicious of Mossbarger, but if the Feds had such an intense manhunt on for Stephens, they could look for Jeff too. To hell with it, she thought, pulling a picture of Jeff and Scott from her purse. “What about Jeff?” she said, handing it to Mossbarger.
He frowned. “Jeff?”
“Our lawyer. He’s missing.”
“Oh.” Mossbarger handed the picture to the kid. “Check with the CHP, Harbor Patrol, Coast Guard, Border Patrol, Sheriff’s, and San Diego PD. Have the FBI run a check too.” He rose from his chair. “After the break in at your house, I’ve assigned one of my men to drive you home.” He jabbed his thumb at Scott. “Two of them will be watching Miller’s place.”
Ashley scanned the file on Justin Stephens again. He looked like a big kid. Six foot three. Two hundred and thirty pounds. His short blond hair and cherubic, dimpled face suggested playfulness, but the twinkle in his blue eyes spoke of mischief.
She sorted through the rest of the documents. Born in Boston, Ph.D. in microbiology from MIT, interned at Scripps Institute in San Diego. A long list of research grants. How could someone so dedicated be so flawed? she wondered.
She looked through more documents before tossing the rest aside. “I’m not getting anywhere.” She closed her eyes and put her head down in her arms.
“Reeth and Hart,” Mossbarger said. “Take these two back up to North County so they can get some sleep.”
“You got it, boss,” the bigger of the two said.
Ashley stood, stretched, and shook Scott awake. He looked up blinking. “What’s happening?”
“Let’s go get some sleep.”
Scott looked from Ashley to Reeth to Hart to Mossbarger.
“My men will drive you home,” Mossbarger said, then to Ashley. “Tomorrow you can go back to work. We have taps on your computer and phone. Stephens will try to contact you again. No one knows we’ve found the body, so we expect him to keep trying to sell you his fountain of youth story.”
Ashley felt too tired to discuss it further. “I need some sleep.” She walked out with Scott behind her, followed by Reeth and Hart, who took separate cars, one in front, the other trailing.
Ashley dozed on the way to Del Mar, waking when they reached Scott’s townhouse. Hart parked in front and Reeth took a spot on the far side of the street. Ashley followed Scott inside and went straight to bed, instantly falling asleep.
It seemed like a moment had barely passed when the ringing phone startled her out of a deep sleep. She sat up, heart racing, not knowing where she was. Washed out daylight from an overcast sky shone through the window. Eight in the morning by the digital clock on the nightstand. She heard Scott’s voice from the other room.
“That’s what I figured. No, that’s all right. I’ll tell her. We’ll be in by ten.”
He poked his head in the door a minute later. “I figured it woke you too,” he muttered. “That was Mossbarger. They checked the morgue, the hospitals, the airlines, you name it. No sign of Jeff or his car.”
