Chapter 52
FIFTY-TWO
JORDAN
WHERE IS CARA CAMPBELL?
—Headline,
Jordan was the first one to see her. She had changed clothes already—a new shirt, hat, and sunglasses—but by now he recognized her gait.
She saw him, too, reversing direction, then ducking between two stalls and hurrying toward a store on the first floor of a brick building.
Jordan pointed the way, and he, Wen, Crosby, and Hart all converged on the door at the same time. He barged in first and scanned the room. Low ceilings and narrow aisles, a couple of sunburned tourists gaping at him over a cheap embroidered sombrero.
“What’s going on?” asked the owner as the rest of the US Marshals crowded in.
“The woman who just came in—where is she?” he demanded.
“I-I-I think she went out the back.”
Crosby and Hart flanked him, but Jordan had the center aisle and reached the back first. The metal fire door was still ajar. He charged through.
Outside, the sidewalk was empty. A delivery driver returning to his truck with an empty hand truck looked at him curiously, then got in and drove away.
Wen ordered her men to spread out and search the neighboring businesses, but most of them were closed. In stark contrast with bustling Olvera Street—which was little more than an alley—there were few pedestrians here.
“I’m actually starting to respect this girl’s skills,” Hart chuckled as they regrouped.
Jordan had to reluctantly admit that he was, too. Was her ferocious drive to escape driven by guilt?
Or innocence?