once again. “Stop shooting! I’m not trying to hurt you!” He peered around the rock, his blood pumping. His eyes met Morrow’s and the man glared at him for another few seconds before he raised his weapon once again to aim it at Riley’s face.
Riley pulled back just as another pop sounded then he heard the engine of the SUV roar to life.
Riley rose to his feet once again and watched the agent drive away while his heart thundered in his ears. Why had Agent Morrow reacted that way? Had he not heard him calling out to him? Of course he’d heard and still opened fire. His aim had been deliberate. Close shots that meant business. If the look in his eyes meant anything, Jake Morrow wasn’t lost and he definitely didn’t want to be found.
Riley reached for his cell phone, checked that he had a signal, and went to the news website. The number he’d seen on the television last night regarding reporting tips for Jake Morrow sightings was on the home page. He tapped the number and lifted his phone to his ear.
* * *
FBI Special Agent Harper Prentiss lowered her feet from her desk and leaned forward, her attention totally focused on what she was hearing. She’d been about to walk out the door to head home for the evening when the call had come through. Could this finally be the tip they were waiting for? “Tell me again. I want to make sure I didn’t miss anything.” And that his story didn’t change.
The man on the other side of the conversation had identified himself as Riley Martelli and said he’d spotted Jake Morrow in Drum Creek, Colorado. Skepticism was her first reaction. They’d had so many bogus tips that her head hadn’t stopped spinning with all the information she’d had to sift through. But the more this guy talked, the more she wondered if he’d really seen Jake.
He repeated the story word for word. The details didn’t change. Nothing left out, nothing added.
They had to check it out.
“Hold on a second.”
“Sure.”
She did a quick Google search. It was about a ten-hour drive to Drum Creek. If they left within the hour, they’d have time for a couple of hours of sleep before jumping on the case. She pondered taking the choppers, but they’d need their vehicles for the dogs.
Then again, she wanted to get there before too much time passed and Jake had a chance to move on. Or, there was another option. One that made the most logistical sense. “All right, I’ll tell you what. If I take a chopper, I can be there within a couple of hours. The others drive up with the vehicles and meet me there, but at least I can start searching.”
“No sense in hurrying,” Riley Martelli answered. “You’re going to want to start your search where I last saw him, I’m sure. There’s no searching in the dark. Not in that area, trust me.”
“Give me the location.”
“Rocky Mountain National Park. It’s about an hour and forty minutes from Denver and about fifteen minutes from Drum Creek. It’s got tons of camping areas, lakes and other great hiding places. I repeat, you won’t find him in the dark.”
Harper bit her lip, her frustration raging. She didn’t want to have to wait until morning to start looking for Jake, but apparently she wasn’t going to have a choice. They could chopper in lights and other equipment, but that was still risky. They could miss something important on the fringes of the light.
No, they’d have to start the search at dawn. “All right, we can be there first thing in the morning. Can you recommend a place to stay that can accommodate six team members and six dogs?”
“Sure. There’s a hotel in downtown Drum Creek. I’m staying there right now. The owner is a friend of mine. What do you need? Six rooms?”
“Yes.” Harper worried her bottom lip with her teeth. They had to be careful how they approached this. They still didn’t know what they were dealing with. Was Special Agent Morrow an agent in need of help or was he a double agent, actually working for the very mafia kingpin they’d been trying to put away for months now? She just didn’t know. But she was going to find out.
“Keep this confidential, will you? We’re going to make a big enough splash with our vehicles and the dogs, but if you can help us fly as far under the radar as possible, that would be great.”
Keeping the press and the public unaware of their classified missions was the only way to ensure the success of the team. However, with the dogs, the handlers had to be identifiable in certain situations so the FBI provided a variety of uniforms and gear for different occasions. Max West, their team leader, would have to figure out the best option for this situation.
“I’ll do my best and I’ll reserve the rooms for you,” the bounty hunter was saying. “Like I said, the guy who owns the hotel and works the early morning desk is a friend of mine. He can keep his mouth shut—and if you park in the back, your vehicles won’t be seen from the main road.”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll meet you in the lobby at 5:30 sharp. Sunrise is around 5:45. If we get out of town and head into the park early, there won’t be a lot of traffic or inquiries.”
“Good. Our vehicles are black Suburbans. No flashy logos or anything.” But the dogs would attract attention. They gathered stares wherever they went. She sighed. Well, they could only do their best.
“Sounds good.”
“Thank you, Mr. Martelli.”
“Call me Riley.”
“All right, Riley, see you in the morning.”
She hung up and sent an email to her team. She was a member of the elite FBI Tactical K-9 Unit. While the FBI started its K-9 program many years ago, the Tactical K-9 Unit was started by the agency ten years ago in response to the increased levels of terrorism haunting the country. They ultimately answered to the FBI Director, but her team was special in that they had very little micromanaging from above. They were good at their jobs and the director knew it. He left them alone, only requiring debriefs as necessary from their team leader.
Harper’s computer dinged as the responses came in. Good, everyone would be ready to leave by five this afternoon. They’d drive to Colorado, check into the hotel, sleep a couple of hours and be ready to roll by 5:30 a.m. She shut the laptop and placed it in her bag.
They had to find Jake. He’d disappeared in the shootout with the Dupree kingpin and his uncle, Angus Dupree, in Los Angeles, California. Jake’s Malinois, Buddy, was injured in the shootout and was slowly recovering. Unfortunately, as smart as he was, he couldn’t talk and tell them what happened or where his partner went. It was up to Jake’s team to find him and bring him home.
Or bring him to justice.
* * *
Riley glanced at his watch. 5:28. On any other morning, it would be too early for the motel to have breakfast ready, but he had requested that pastries and juice be available for the team. Since the two of them were friends, the manager had been happy to oblige and had even added scrambled eggs and bacon to the spread. Special agents milled around the buffet, their expressions solemn, determined and ready for anything. Each one had a highly trained, working dog. He didn’t see how they would be able to fly under the radar, but working in the early morning hours while most people still
