CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A TSA supervisor jogged up to meet them, badge swinging on a blue lanyard. “Agents Valentine and Reid?”
Kate flashed her credentials. “Status on Webb?”
Kate swore under her breath.
Kate nodded. “We split. You take the right side of the concourse. I’ll sweep the gates. He’ll be trying to stay near the boarding lane but out of direct sight.”
Marcus squeezed her arm once—a fleeting, wordless be careful—then veered off into the crowd.
Kate strode down the E concourse, weaving through families dragging suitcases, business travelers tapping phones, tourists arguing about directions. The air smelled of jet fuel, cinnamon pretzels, nervous sweat.
Her eyes flicked across faces: tall, short, anxious, bored—
Then she saw him.
A thickset man with brown hair, shoulders rounded forward, moving with that familiar not-quite-running urgency. He was heading away from Gate E13, cutting across the concourse as though he already knew someone was coming for him.
Kate’s pulse snapped tight.
“Dr. Webb!”
The man’s head jerked, his posture tightening like a spring.
“FBI! Stop where you are!”
Webb bolted.
“Damn it—Marcus, I’ve got visual!” Kate shouted into her radio as she barged forward, dodging a man with a stroller and nearly colliding with a vending machine.
People froze, then scattered, parting instinctively as Webb bulldozed through a family of four, knocking someone’s rolling suitcase spinning across the tiles.
“Stop! Webb—STOP!”
He didn’t. He ploughed toward the fork in the concourse, aiming for the escalators.
Kate sprinted harder.
Her lungs burned. The soles of her boots slapped against the polished floor, echoing under the vaulted ceiling. Webb shoved past a cluster of teenagers, one of them yelping as he stumbled.
“Move!” Kate yelled. “FBI—MOVE!”
Webb hit the escalator at full speed—
—and made a fatal mistake.
He chose the up escalator.
Kate launched herself after him.
Passengers screamed as the chase thundered upward—Kate two steps behind, closing fast as Webb shoved a man aside and grabbed the handrail for balance.
“Webb! This is your last warning!”
He didn’t slow. He reached the top and lurched forward—
Kate caught him.
She slammed into him from behind, hooking her arm around his chest and dragging him off his feet. They crashed onto the landing in a tangle of limbs, Webb grunting as his shoulder hit the floor. He twisted, tried to buck her off, thick arms bracing to push up—
Kate twisted his wrist sharply, forcing him flat with a cry.
“Hands behind your back—NOW!”
“Get off me!” Webb wheezed. “You—you have no right—”
She drove her knee into his back, pinning him. “You’re done. Hands. Now.”
Webb finally relented, panting, sweat beading down his neck. Kate snapped the cuffs on one wrist, then the other, her breathing harsh in her ears.
Around them, dozens of travelers had gathered in a wide, stunned circle—phones raised, eyes wide, murmuring in shock as the scene registered.
Marcus arrived seconds later, chest heaving. “You good?”
Kate straightened, hauling Webb to his knees. “Peachy.”
Marcus looked around at the crowd, then at Webb. “Congratulations, Doc. You’re about to go viral.”
Webb glared up at them, fury and something colder flickering in his eyes.
Kate leaned in. “Flight’s cancelled.”