on him. This could be the man who had stalked and killed Elaine. How many times had he followed her, watched her, and planned how he was going to do it? And she had never known, never realized, someone was there, ready to take her life.
You son of a bitch, I see you.
Lynch had reached Metcalf and spoke quietly. Metcalf played it perfectly, registering no surprise at the news.
But a nearby ERT tech wasn’t so smooth. He turned to steal a glance back toward the food truck.
Shit!
Hayes caught it. He bolted away, running toward a row of storefronts behind him.
Lynch was off in a shot, pounding the pavement before anyone else realized what was happening.
Instinctively, Kendra ran after him. Metcalf shouted into his radio, barking commands to the other agents and police officers on-site. Within seconds, the block had erupted in a chaotic scene with agents scrambling toward the storefronts, shouting as the police cruiser’s siren blared.
Kendra rounded the corner. Nothing.
Where in the hell had Lynch gone? And Hayes?
One of the storefronts had a glass door with open shades. The pull cords swung back and forth.
There!
Kendra bolted through the door and found herself in a Thai restaurant. A table had been knocked over, and two spilled water pitchers rocked on the carpeted floor. The staff and customers were obviously disturbed by some commotion.
Kendra charged through the dining room and pushed through a red curtain. She ran through the kitchen.
Pots and pans rolled across the floor, which was cluttered with broken bowls and soup.
A helpful but obviously confused cook pointed toward the back door.
Kendra nodded and ran outside to the alley. Still no sign of Lynch or Hayes.
She stopped to listen.
Pounding footsteps. But from where?
And was it from Lynch and Hayes or the half dozen FBI agents and cops now swarming the area?
BAM!
A trash can tipped over. Somewhere…
She turned. It came from the left. She ran down the alleyway following the sounds of plastic bottles hitting the pavement. It was most likely a recycling container, she realized.
She stopped.
The green plastic container was between two buildings, knocked on its side.
She ran toward it, slowing as she moved down the narrow opening between buildings. Only then did she wonder what in the hell she would do if she found Hayes. She had no gun, no weapon of any kind. What would happen if—?
A strong pair of hands covered her mouth and yanked her to the ground.
She tried to scream, but the sound was muffled by the palm pressed over her lips. She was about to bite down when she became aware of a familiar scent.
“Quiet,” Lynch whispered into her ear. “He’s near.”
She relaxed as he pulled his hand from her mouth and then drew a shaky breath. “Risky,” she whispered back. “Your bitten-off fingers almost ended up on the ground.”
“Worth the risk.” His eyes darted down the narrow opening between buildings. “I think he’s down there somewhere.” Lynch picked up the handgun he’d obviously put down to grab her and drew her behind the nearest dumpster. They crouched there, their gaze narrowed on the opening.
More police sirens wailed in the distance.
Lynch nodded to a pile of shipping cartons. “He could be there. Or maybe in one of the other dumpsters.”
Kendra shook her head. “All those dumpsters have locks.”
“Good point.” Lynch picked up a crate lid and hurled it toward the stack of cartons. They tumbled to the ground, scattering across the narrow walkway between buildings.
No shots.
No wild scramble to escape notice.
Lynch peered at the scattered boxes. “No Hayes.”
They got to their feet and slowly, carefully made their way down the walkway.
Suddenly Kendra stopped and cocked her head. “Do you hear that?”
“The sirens?”
“No. Listen.” She listened again herself. “Water. Drizzling, running water. Just ahead.”
“Oh, I hear it,” Lynch said. He took two steps forward and kicked aside the largest carton on the pavement in front of them. “It’s damn familiar.”
There, under where the cartons had been, was an open manhole. The iron cover was askew, moved just to the right.
Lynch cursed and began lowering himself into the manhole. He said to Kendra, “Call Metcalf. Tell him that Hayes is in the sewer system. He’s going to have to pop up somewhere.”
“But we don’t know where and we have a chance to get him while he’d still down there.” She moved toward the manhole. “I’m going with you.”
“The hell you are.”
“Shut up, Lynch. Don’t be sexist.” Kendra’s fingers flew across her phone’s keyboard. “I just told Metcalf where we’re going. These sewer lines are monitored,