We’re being followed?
Caitlyn felt the hairs prickle on the back of her neck as she glanced behind them where a couple dozen people were rushing through the long, narrow tunnel like a bunch of worker ants.
“Which one?” she asked.
“There are two of them.” He grabbed her hand, forcing her to pick up her pace. “One’s in a sport coat and the other one—the same one that’s in the photos we have now—is wearing a leather jacket.”
She glanced back and quickly picked them out of the crowd. She hadn’t been surprised at his precision recall, but she was impressed.
“We need to find out not only who they are, but what they’re after,” he said.
Her fingers tightened around her purse strap. “Do you think they’re after the photos?”
“The photos . . . Helen’s notes . . . more than likely both.”
She looked up at him, catching his dark expression, and realized not for the first time how personal this was for him. She wished she could do something to fix the situation. Wished just as much that she could fix his heart. She’d heard the hurt in his voice when he’d looked at the surveillance photos of his wife. She knew what betrayal felt like. Knew what it felt like to lose someone you loved. And she hated being the one who had stirred up the hornet’s nest.
Right now, though, wasn’t the time to think about that. The dots were starting to connect, and she didn’t like the picture that was beginning to emerge. Helen found out something and started asking questions. Questions that had gotten her murdered. Just like Olivia and Dr. Abbott. And if they weren’t careful . . .
“They broke in and tried to take your case file notes,” she said as they passed a barbershop with an older man in a suit and tie getting his hair cut. “They were clearly looking for what Helen might have known or left behind, and now they’ve targeted Dr. Abbott’s wife in order to find out what she might know.”
“Exactly.”
They were circling in, ready to take down any loose ends.
“What are we supposed to do?” she asked.
“I’ve got my Glock, but no doubt they’re armed too, which means confronting them will be a risk. Especially with people around.”
“You know how I said I hated parking garages . . . Now I think I’ll add tunnels to that as well.”
They kept hurrying through the long maze of corridors, until most of the people who’d been behind them had ducked into a couple elevators, which left the hallway quiet except for the sound of footsteps behind them.
She glanced at a color-coded map of the sprawling underground labyrinth on the wall. The tunnels—reminding her of an airport with its overhead lights and shops—enabled people to commute to work, but how were they supposed to evade someone with deadly intentions?
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“That I’m not going to get my burger after all, though I know that’s not what you were asking.” His hand tightened around her fingers. “To be honest, I’ve lost my appetite.”
“I want to know who they are, but if we’re going to have a confrontation, it needs to be on our terms. We need as many witnesses as possible, but I also don’t want to risk anyone else’s life. The last thing we want right now is an active shooter situation.”
She knew he was right, but a confrontation terrified her. Whoever was following them was armed and involved in a situation where the stakes were big enough that people had lost their lives.
They hurried past a group of tourists who’d decided to book a walking tour and explore Houston’s underground.
“Are they still back there?” she asked.
“Fifty . . . maybe seventy-five feet.”
“So what do we do?”
“Sometimes the best way is the most direct way.”
They rounded another bend in the tunnel. There was a food court ahead of them with tables and chairs set out for the growing lunch crowd.
“I’m going to talk with them.”
“Okay . . . What can I do?”
“Do you have your phone with you?”
“Yes.” She pulled it out of her purse.
“We’re going to need photos of the men, so Quinton can try and identify them.”
“I can do that.”
“But I want you out of the way.” He slowed his steps. “There’s a shop ahead of us with glass walls and quite a few customers. Take the photos from inside, but if anything goes wrong, I want you to call 911, find the nearest exit, and get out of here.”
“I’m not going to leave you—”
He looked down at her. “Promise me, Caitlyn.”
She hesitated, then nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to argue with her. “I will, but you need to be careful too. Please.”
“I will.”
A moment later, she slipped inside a shop filled with knickknacks and home décor and picked a spot near the entrance, partially hidden by a display. One that kept her out of sight and yet gave her a good angle to zoom in on the men’s faces.
Josh turned around and started walking toward them. She waited for the camera to come into focus, then snapped a string of photos. By the looks on the men’s faces, it was clear they’d been taken aback by Josh’s approach. The location he’d chosen meant the men following them couldn’t do anything without causing a scene, and while she had no idea what their agenda was, her gut told her that was the last thing they wanted.
She snapped a couple more photos, hoping they would be sharp enough for Quinton to be able to identify them. She took a step back as one of the men looked beyond Josh to where she stood. She snapped another photo, unsure if he’d discovered where she was. A blur of people passed between her and the men. She shifted her gaze away from the phone. The group of tourists they’d passed in the tunnel earlier had arrived, laughing and joking loudly as they scouted out the different places to eat.
She scanned the growing crowd, panicked when she realized she’d lost Josh and the other two men. Where were they?
She shoved her phone into her back pocket and rushed out of the shop. Her anxiety mushroomed. There were two armed men tracking them down, who’d been involved with at least three deaths, and now she couldn’t find them. She tried to stuff down her panic. They knew she was here. Might already know that she had the photos Melanie had given them . . .
Her fingers pressed tighter around the strap of her purse as she started turning in a slow half circle, searching for Josh. The noise of the lunch crowd surrounded her. Someone shouted out a lunch order. Her own heart pounded. She understood his need to keep his investigation quiet and they did have Quinton, but they shouldn’t be doing this alone anymore. They had enough to convince the captain to reopen the case. They might not have all the answers, but they definitely had enough to link the three deaths at the lab and open up a new investigation.
She finally caught sight of Josh’s suit jacket as he slipped out of the crowd and hurried toward her.
She let out a sharp sigh of relief at finding him. “Where are they?”
“They ducked into the crowd and I lost them. They clearly weren’t looking for a confrontation.”
Because they wanted what Melanie had given them. She was sure about that. But while the men might have forfeited this round, she also knew this wasn’t over.
He gripped her elbow as they started walking. “We need to get out of here too.”
“Agreed.”
They started back toward the parking garage in silence, leaving the crowded section behind so only their footsteps echoed in the quiet hall. Josh’s body language was both on edge and alert. And he wasn’t alone. A sense of uneasiness had settled in her gut. An unnerving feeling that there was nowhere they would be safe. At least meeting with Melanie had been worth it. They now had both the photos from her as well as the surveillance photos Caitlyn had just taken with her phone.
“I have the closeup photos of their faces,” she said.
“Good,” he said as they exited the tunnels and hurried toward the car. “We’ll send them to Quinton as soon as we get out of here and hope he can identify them.”
The figure came at them out of nowhere, slamming into Caitlyn’s side and knocking her onto the pavement. She reached for her purse, which had slid out of her hands, but it was too late. The attacker had already grabbed the bag and was running.
“Caitlyn—”
“I’m fine. Go.”
Josh took off after the man, shouting for him to stop. A car squealed around the corner, and the man jumped into the passenger side of the car before slamming the door shut behind him. A second later they were gone.
“He grabbed my purse. He got the photos.”
“Forget about it. None of that matters as long as you’re safe.”
A woman wearing a suit and tennis shoes ran up to them. “I saw what happened from a few cars down. Are you okay?”
Caitlyn nodded, trying to catch her breath. “I think so. Or at least I will be.”
Once her heart stopped racing and her legs stopped shaking.
Josh helped her to her feet, then wrapped his arm around her waist to help walk her to the car. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”
She shook her head. Her pants had torn at the knee when she’d fallen, and she was sure there was going to be a bruise there, but besides that, nothing else seemed to hurt.
“I got their license plate number and just called 911.” The woman followed them to the car. “The cops should be here any minute now.”
“We appreciate your help.” Josh had her sit down on the edge of the passenger seat, then turned back to the woman. “Could I have that license plate number?”
“Of course . . . I just can’t understand why someone would do that.”
Josh grabbed a pen and pad from the car console, then wrote down the number. “Again, I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I’m going to go ahead and take her home now—”
“Don’t you think you should stay until the police arrive?”
“The thieves are long gone. I’d rather just get her out of here.”
Caitlyn leaned her head back against the seat and tried to slow down her breathing while Josh slid into the driver’s seat and started up the engine. She looked over at Josh. “She wasn’t going to give up, was she?”
“No she wasn’t. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Just shaken.” She grabbed her phone from her pocket, surprised it wasn’t cracked. “At least we have my phone and the photos I took of those men, but we needed those pictures.”
“I’ve got the PI’s number on my phone. We should be able to get copies from him. What about your purse?”
“There wasn’t anything of value in there except a little cash. I left my credit cards and driver’s license back at the motel in the safe. Now I’m glad I did.”
“Me too.”
“Agreed.”
“Josh . . .” She struggled to put into words what she was thinking. Not sure what his reaction would be. “I’m not sure what you’re going to think about this.”
“What is it?”
“I think we need to go to your captain. Surely we have enough to convince him to reopen the case.”
“Actually, I think you’re right.”
“You do?” His answer caught her off guard, but also relieved her.
“Yes, though first I think we should go back to the motel and spend the rest of the day organizing what we have so far,” he said. “That would give you more time to go through Helen’s notes, and I want to track down the PI who took those photos of Olivia. We can see if we can get copies, and if Quinton can trace this license plate number.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, and there is one other thing,” he said, flipping on his turn signal.
“What’s that?”
“I never did get my burger and fries.”