Chapter 65
Wednesday afternoon
JP sat in his truck while DuBois leaned through the open driver’s window. Two unmarked vehicles sat farther down the street, separated enough not to draw attention. Nobody joked. Nobody acted casual. Everyone was taking the situation seriously.
DuBois rested one arm on the window frame. “Let’s go over this again.”
JP nodded. “You and your guys pick up the tail when he leaves. And I stay out of sight.”
“I’m serious,” DuBois said. “I can’t have a civilian directly involved in an active surveillance operation.”
“You’ve had me involved before.”
“Not on something this volatile.” DuBois lowered his voice. “If this turns into a rescue situation, I need clean procedure.”
JP understood what he meant. Chain of custody, warrants, defense attorneys, future prosecution. It all mattered, especially if Hannah Caldwell was found alive after eight years. One procedural mistake and Rourke could get off on a technicality.
Still, JP wasn’t about to sit at home waiting for updates. DuBois knew that. That was why he finally sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket.
“I’ll leave the line open.”
“So, I can hear what’s happening.”
“Exactly.”
It wasn’t official, nor approved, but it was enough.
“That works.”
DuBois straightened and pointed down the street toward the unmarked units. “You’ll hear call signs. Don’t interrupt unless it’s important.”
“I know how radios work.”
“Good.” DuBois looked him directly in the eye now. “And if he burns the surveillance?”
JP knew the answer. “We back off.”
“Immediately.” DuBois stepped back from the truck. “We’re rotating every few blocks. No unit stays directly behind him long.”
“Who’s driving the secondaries?”
“Martinez and Chen.”
“Both experienced. That’s good,” JP said. “Remember, Rourke’s sharp. He’ll watch mirrors.”
“I know.”
“He may loop or stop suddenly to look for repeats.”
DuBois gave a humorless smile. “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.”
JP almost smiled back. Then both men looked toward the restaurant. JP knew that inside, Sabre was sitting across from Daniel Rourke pretending not to suspect him of kidnapping. JP hated every part of that.
DuBois’ phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen. “They’re coming out.”
JP’s pulse slowed instead of quickened. Years of investigative work had taught him something important: fast adrenaline made people sloppy. Slow thinking solved cases.
As DuBois moved toward his car, JP watched Rourke walk Sabre to her car, pause near the curb talking briefly with Sabre, then smile and head toward a dark gray SUV parked down the block.
Rourke showed no visible tension. He didn’t scan the area as though he suspected surveillance. That was good.
Rourke climbed into the SUV and pulled into traffic. Three cars back, DuBois eased away from the curb without rushing. Another unmarked vehicle remained parked, waiting to tag-team in. It was clean and professional.
JP waited exactly seven seconds before starting his truck. His phone crackled softly through the speakers. “Primary moving southbound.”
Another voice answered. “Secondary in position.”
JP settled in behind traffic several blocks back, far enough not to be spotted easily, but close enough not to lose them.
DuBois’ voice came quietly through the open line. “So, far, so good.”