Blink of an Eye (Kendra Michaels #8) - Roy Johansen Page 0,30
I was just about to start cooking dinner to go with it.”
Kendra shook her head. “The coffee will have to do. Because when I was bracing myself to deal with Lynch, I suddenly realized what was nagging me this morning that I couldn’t quite remember.” She turned back and headed for the bathroom. “But it turns out it might be time-sensitive. So while I wash my face and throw on clothes, suppose you make a couple of travel cups for us to take on the road.”
* * *
Son of a bitch!
Lynch leaned back in his chair after he slipped his phone back in his jacket pocket. He should have known better than to trust Chodan. He’d been fighting for years in these mountains to lure his brother back to his village and away from Beijing’s influence. Now that he could see how close Lynch was to negotiating a settlement where he’d failed, he wasn’t about to let him leave. Chodan might not have lied, but he wouldn’t have balked at turning away and presenting a more pleasant view of Kendra’s situation if it was more comfortable for him.
Which left Lynch not knowing what the hell was happening with Kendra, but realizing it wasn’t good. He’d been lucky that she’d told him even this little she had. It would be useless to probe to get more out of her when he was obviously not one of her favorite people at the moment. Better to go around her and get the full picture. Griffin? Metcalf? She’d mentioned FBI, but she would have referred to them directly if she was receiving help from either of them. What else did he know? The only other clue she’d given him was that she was not in San Diego but in L.A. where Jessie lived.
Why L.A.? Call Jessie?
Think about it, but right now he had to wind up these negotiations here in the mountains before they blew up in his face. The chances were he wouldn’t be able to get out of Tibet alive if he didn’t finish what he’d started. So go top speed and still do what he had to do here while working to find out what was happening to Kendra in L.A. Strike the balance as he’d done so many times before.
But none of it was going to get done by him sitting here. He got to his feet. Move! He threw open the front door and strode out into the driving snow.
* * *
Jessie handed Kendra her coffee when she jumped into the passenger seat fifteen minutes later. “One time-sensitive cup of coffee for the road,” she said as she backed out of her driveway. “But since you declined my offer of a meal, have you got a better suggestion where we can pick up a sandwich or doughnut to go with it?”
“Maybe.” Kendra took a sip of her coffee. “How about the 7-Eleven on National Boulevard?”
“Interesting choice.”
“Adrian’s girlfriend said he’d bought another phone, one that presumably couldn’t be traced.”
“A burner phone.”
Kendra nodded. “Everything else about his departure was in a last-minute panic. I’d say it’s likely he bought his phone between the Bowl and her place. Between four thirty and five thirty in the morning, options are limited.”
“Not so limited. This is L.A., remember? There are hundreds of convenience stores and gas stations open at that hour.”
“But we know he went to 7-Eleven, probably one very close to his house.”
“How do we know that?”
“There was a 7-Eleven coffee cup in the kitchen trash can, translucent enough that I could see it was still about two-thirds full. He probably bought it nearby and brought it inside with him. I didn’t see any cell phone packaging in the trash, though.”
“Maybe he hadn’t opened it yet.”
“Possible. Or maybe he opened and activated it before he left the store.”
Jessie nodded. “Are you proposing a dumpster dive?”
“If the packaging gives us the phone’s serial number, we can track his location with the carrier.”
“Oh, it’s definitely worth trying. I’m just saying, I hope the parking lot trash can hasn’t been dumped yet today.”
“I told you it was time-sensitive. I tried to call 7-Eleven to find out, but they kept putting me on hold. If I’d had my wits about me, I would have been able to put this together before I left the house this morning,” she added in disgust.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky. Did I ever tell you about the time I found a human hand in a dumpster?”