CHAPTER 62 Phillips
Phillips
Forty-eight hours earlier …
NEAR THE PEAK OF a wooded hill overlooking the Sunset Shores Motel, Aiden Phillips lies flat on his belly, using his Zeiss monocular to observe activity at the motel.
He’s got a radio receiver with a single earpiece, which allows him to listen in on the law enforcement frequencies while keeping one ear open for threats behind him.
But he doubts that anybody will bother him.
From the way the assault went down, it looks like the operation was quickly staged and executed.
No blocking units on the road. No recon patrols in the woods.
No hunt for a second getaway vehicle. Too much focus on searching the motel room and impounding his pickup truck.
Probably assuming the former occupant is miles away.
Overhead, Phillips hears the hum of a surveillance drone, but he’s not worried. His ghillie suit has a built-in barrier to deflect thermal imaging. From above, he looks like just another leafy lump in the woods.
Even from ten feet away, nobody could spot him. He’s that well camouflaged.
Phillips watches the FBI agent in charge speaking with the motel owner, Margie Coffey. Nice lady. Always concerned about him. He feels bad about breaking the mirror. But the rage came on so fast, he couldn’t stop himself.
That was weak.
He can’t afford to be weak.
Phillips recognizes the tall Black man talking to the FBI supervisor: Detective John Sampson. This is serious business, bringing in a heavy hitter like him. From what Phillips knows, Sampson is tight with Dr. Alex Cross, the famous forensic psychologist.
But Cross has his own problems, Phillips has learned. A missing son down in North Carolina. Good. Maybe that’ll keep him out of this case.
A stern-looking Hispanic woman with ATF on her blue windbreaker comes into view. That must be Anna Rizzo—a sharp investigator, according to Phillips’s research. And a former EOD specialist with the U.S. Army.
Another Afghanistan vet. Like Sampson.
Like him.
In a fair fight, Phillips knows Rizzo and Sampson would beat him in no time.
Unfortunately for them, he doesn’t play fair.
Phillips keeps watching until the sun sets, then slips away to the Dodge Charger he hid deep in the woods under a camo tarp.
The vehicle they never found.
The one they never even looked for.