you."
Things were looking up. "Keep monitoring and tell me if anyone else calls."
"Will do."
Truman hung up and opened his email. Sure enough, he had a new message with an attachment. He opened it, letting it play over the speaker. The hurried conversation pratted off in French, and Truman had to play it twice to make sure he understood. But he got it. Natalie, the girl who rescued the kidnapped girls, used a phone to call her own cell phone, which was in her boyfriend Chris’s possession. She wanted him to meet her at a local diner and take the girls somewhere safe.
Truman dialed Sanders’ number.
“Yes—” Sanders began, but Truman interrupted.
"Belay your current destination. Go to Louie's Diner. The girls will be there."
"Yes, sir. We'll get them, sir."
"You better." Truman hung up and tapped his fingers on the counter top, feeling impatient and helpless. Who else was searching? The Bennett brothers. He called them.
"Yello," Danny Bennett said, his customary answer.
"Danny. You and Derek get over to Louie's Diner and provide back-up for Sanders and Grey. They'll be bringing the girls in."
Danny passed the information on to Derek, who yelled, "You got it, boss! We're on our way."
So eager. They all were. Now nothing to do but wait. Truman paced the hardwood floor, resisting the urge to call Sanders for an update. The phone rang, and Truman snatched it up. "Grey? Do you have them?"
"No." Truman heard yelling in the background, and Grey continued, "They drove away. We're chasing them. But I've got a visual. They're driving a dark-gray SUV with brown wood paneling. It's old and slow." Grey swore, then shouted, "Sanders! Watch the traffic!"
"I'll call the police," Truman said, his adrenaline kicking in. "We'll get a patrol to pull them over."
"Slow down, slow down, slow down!" Grey yelled. "Boss, we just lost them over a railroad track."
"Street names," Truman snapped.
Grey spat out the intersection names, and Truman called Officer Fayande. "I need you to get your men on this right away. Pull them over for reckless driving, expired tags, any excuse. Get them to me."
Fayande hesitated. "I cannot do this personally. I will alert the unit closest to them."
For a moment Truman's vision blacked, and red lights flashed in front of his eyes. "I need all your units! Get everyone on them!"
Fayande lowered his voice, the French accent thick in his whisper. "It will blow your cover. I'll be questioned."
Truman hung up. He couldn't handle Fayande's excuses right now, but in the back of his mind he also knew the man was right. He called Claber back. "Claber. What's going on?"
"I'm not sure," Claber said, sounding a bit rattled. "I’m still at the post office. Sanders said you sent them to a diner. The Bennetts said the same thing. I haven't heard anything since then."
"They're chasing the girls," Truman snapped. His mind whirled, trying to find an assignment for Claber. He had the big van and three men with him. Not exactly equipped for car chases. "Stand by for action. I'll call you with an assignment."
Sanders’ number showed on the phone, and Truman clicked over. "What's the news, man?"
"We lost them."
Chapter 15
Sanders voice was heavy with disappointment. "We're still surveying the area, but I don't know where they went."
Truman squeezed his eyes shut and pounded his fist into the pool table. He couldn't give in to the desperation wrapping itself around his chest. "Keep searching. I'll check back." He slammed the phone down on the green fabric, then grabbed a pool stick and snapped it in half.
The next call came from Fayande. "My patrol spotted them and gave chase. But they switched vehicles, and we haven't had any sightings since then."
"Fine." Truman felt no anger or disappointment, only a calm resoluteness. "I have no more need of your services."
"But—" Fayande started to respond, but Truman hung up. Instead, he called Claber.
"News?" Claber asked.
"No. We've lost their trail. But
Things were looking up. "Keep monitoring and tell me if anyone else calls."
"Will do."
Truman hung up and opened his email. Sure enough, he had a new message with an attachment. He opened it, letting it play over the speaker. The hurried conversation pratted off in French, and Truman had to play it twice to make sure he understood. But he got it. Natalie, the girl who rescued the kidnapped girls, used a phone to call her own cell phone, which was in her boyfriend Chris’s possession. She wanted him to meet her at a local diner and take the girls somewhere safe.
Truman dialed Sanders’ number.
“Yes—” Sanders began, but Truman interrupted.
"Belay your current destination. Go to Louie's Diner. The girls will be there."
"Yes, sir. We'll get them, sir."
"You better." Truman hung up and tapped his fingers on the counter top, feeling impatient and helpless. Who else was searching? The Bennett brothers. He called them.
"Yello," Danny Bennett said, his customary answer.
"Danny. You and Derek get over to Louie's Diner and provide back-up for Sanders and Grey. They'll be bringing the girls in."
Danny passed the information on to Derek, who yelled, "You got it, boss! We're on our way."
So eager. They all were. Now nothing to do but wait. Truman paced the hardwood floor, resisting the urge to call Sanders for an update. The phone rang, and Truman snatched it up. "Grey? Do you have them?"
"No." Truman heard yelling in the background, and Grey continued, "They drove away. We're chasing them. But I've got a visual. They're driving a dark-gray SUV with brown wood paneling. It's old and slow." Grey swore, then shouted, "Sanders! Watch the traffic!"
"I'll call the police," Truman said, his adrenaline kicking in. "We'll get a patrol to pull them over."
"Slow down, slow down, slow down!" Grey yelled. "Boss, we just lost them over a railroad track."
"Street names," Truman snapped.
Grey spat out the intersection names, and Truman called Officer Fayande. "I need you to get your men on this right away. Pull them over for reckless driving, expired tags, any excuse. Get them to me."
Fayande hesitated. "I cannot do this personally. I will alert the unit closest to them."
For a moment Truman's vision blacked, and red lights flashed in front of his eyes. "I need all your units! Get everyone on them!"
Fayande lowered his voice, the French accent thick in his whisper. "It will blow your cover. I'll be questioned."
Truman hung up. He couldn't handle Fayande's excuses right now, but in the back of his mind he also knew the man was right. He called Claber back. "Claber. What's going on?"
"I'm not sure," Claber said, sounding a bit rattled. "I’m still at the post office. Sanders said you sent them to a diner. The Bennetts said the same thing. I haven't heard anything since then."
"They're chasing the girls," Truman snapped. His mind whirled, trying to find an assignment for Claber. He had the big van and three men with him. Not exactly equipped for car chases. "Stand by for action. I'll call you with an assignment."
Sanders’ number showed on the phone, and Truman clicked over. "What's the news, man?"
"We lost them."
Chapter 15
Sanders voice was heavy with disappointment. "We're still surveying the area, but I don't know where they went."
Truman squeezed his eyes shut and pounded his fist into the pool table. He couldn't give in to the desperation wrapping itself around his chest. "Keep searching. I'll check back." He slammed the phone down on the green fabric, then grabbed a pool stick and snapped it in half.
The next call came from Fayande. "My patrol spotted them and gave chase. But they switched vehicles, and we haven't had any sightings since then."
"Fine." Truman felt no anger or disappointment, only a calm resoluteness. "I have no more need of your services."
"But—" Fayande started to respond, but Truman hung up. Instead, he called Claber.
"News?" Claber asked.
"No. We've lost their trail. But
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