a roundabout route?”
“Absolutely. We have to make sure we’re not being followed.”
“Okay, we’re off.” He put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. “Lead the way, boss.”
Chapter Nineteen
ISAAC REMINGTON
“We lost the girl.”
Isaac glanced at the clock on his nightstand. One seventeen in the morning. The shrill sound of his burner phone ringing had woken him from a deep and rather pleasant dream, and he wasn’t happy about it.
“What do you mean, lost?”
“She was at her mother’s apartment with a friend, a Miss Frances Chang, who is also enrolled in UTOP. They arrived at the apartment around eight and fixed dinner. The girl called around to the mother’s friends trying to find her. She didn’t seem overly worried—in fact, she said it was likely her mom was staying with a friend.”
“What?” He sat up, snapping the light from the beside lamp on. “How stupid is that? How could she possibly believe that?”
“I don’t know what information she’s basing that on. We heard only that when she couldn’t find her mom at any the local hospitals, she decided not to panic and instead is considering the possibility that her mom might indeed be with friends or…a new boyfriend.”
“That’s absurd. There’s no indication she’s called her father?”
“No, sir.”
“She hasn’t called the police yet, either?”
“Not that we know. We haven’t seen any unusual activity, and the local cops create a lot of that.”
Isaac leaned his head back against his headboard thinking. “Of all the ridiculous scenarios… Idiocy from her was not what I expected.”
“She’s a teenager. Teenagers don’t always have the best ideas.”
Isaac supposed that was true, although exceedingly unfortunate at this point. “What happened tonight?”
“She and Miss Chang left the apartment at approximately nine fifteen to head to a teen night at a local skating rink.”
“Her mom is missing and they went…skating?” Was he hearing this correctly? Things this stupid only happened on sitcoms. Not that he ever watched such idiocy, but still.
“Yes, sir. Teenagers. Dumb decisions and all.”
His hand tightened on the cell phone. “Are you sure she’s had no contact with the father?”
“None that we could find, and we’ve had constant eyes on her and her devices. We’re still monitoring her account and phone, of course. But she’s careful and talented on the computer, so we can’t be certain.”
“How did you lose her?”
“The fire alarm went off in the skating rink, and the kids scattered. I lost sight of her in the dark and the crowd, but Carson and I covered the exits to watch who came out. Unfortunately, there were four exits and only two of us. She and her friend must have gone out a different exit.”
“Did they return to the apartment?”
“No, sir. But they were talking earlier about possibly staying at Miss Chang’s house. We have eyes on that house now, but it’s dark. If they’re in there, we won’t know until the morning.”
Isaac’s irritation grew. “How is this even a problem? We’re the NSA. Can’t you follow the girl’s phone or get a lock on Miss Chang’s phone?”
“That’s the problem, sir. Both phones are turned off.”
Two teenage girls with their phones turned off? Was that even possible? Did they suspect something? Their behavior certainly didn’t suggest that, but who knew what went on in the mind of girls that age?
“Just get me eyes on the daughter as soon as possible. That’s imperative.”
“Understood. I’ve asked for more surveillance bodies, but we are running out of resources. Two watching the mother’s apartment round the clock, and two—including me—on Miss Chang’s home residence. We’ve got another team on her devices, and now on Miss Chang’s.”
“What about the rest of her friends? The ones that were passed through to UTOP with her? She went to her mother’s apartment today with one of them—a boy.”
“That would be Jaxson Drummond. The tracker on his car is still functional and confirms he remains at the hotel where some of the UTOP students are staying while their buildings on the campus are being remediated for asbestos. We’re working on getting information on his phone and the others’, too.”
“Good. She may try to reach out to them.”
“Don’t worry, sir. She’s sixteen, and we’re the NSA. We’ll find her.”
ANGEL SINCLAIR
“Wow, this place is great!” Frankie set her suitcase on the couch in the living room of the farmhouse and twirled around. “There’s not a lot of furniture, but I love the country decor.”
Mr. Toodles ran around checking out the house, his little furry bottom wagging happily. I carefully put my backpack with my computer