Читать книгу Andrew Gross 3-Book Thriller Collection 2: 15 Seconds, Killing Hour, The Blue Zone - Andrew Gross, Andrew Gross - Страница 53

She had already made up her mind, long before the police ever got to her.

Long before the launch, which had been stolen the day before from a boatyard on City Island, had been found abandoned on an East River pier.

Before the gash on her arm from the splintered oar had been treated and bandaged, and before Greg had rushed up to the hospital to take her home and before she broke down when she saw him, realizing just how lucky she was to be alive.

She had made up her mind back on the shore.

What she had to do.

With her lungs on fire, her fingers pressed into the wet but precious soil, with the boat that had almost cut her in two chugging away, and the unmistakable look of clarity in Ponytail’s eyes.

Okay, you win. Kate seethed as the boat sped away. You wanted me, you got me, you bastards, I’m yours. She could no longer just stand by.

If they’d managed to find her, they could locate her family. Her mother knew something about why her father had disappeared. Why he was in that picture. The truth about their lives. They could be in danger.

Kate knew, even as Greg hugged her, what she had to do.

The WITSEC agents wouldn’t help her get to them.

It was up to her to find her family now.

The doctor gave her some Valium, and Kate slept for a couple of hours back at the apartment. Before he left, Greg knelt by the bed and stroked her hair.

“There’s an agent at the door, and the police are outside. Even better, Fergie’s on guard.”

“Good.” Kate smiled sleepily and squeezed his hand.

“You’ve got to be careful, Kate. I love you. I can’t even think about what might have happened. I’ll be back early. I promise.”

Nodding, her lids weighted, Kate closed her eyes.

She awoke in the middle of the afternoon. She still felt a little woozy and shaken, but otherwise she was fine. There was a bandage wrapped around her left arm. She glanced outside the window and spotted an FBI man and a couple of police uniforms on the street below. There was also a guard stationed on her floor, outside the apartment.

It wouldn’t be easy to go about this, Kate realized. She couldn’t e-mail them. She couldn’t call. The agents weren’t about to let her out of their sight now.

Where the hell did she even begin?

In the bottom drawer of her desk was the accordion folder she kept filled with the old e-mails and correspondence she had received from them throughout the past year. Kate had never destroyed them, as she’d been instructed. These messages and cards were all she had. She’d read them over several times.

There had to be something in there. Somewhere …

She put a Bartók string quartet on the external iPod and began leafing through them. Truth was, she’d always had a few ideas. Justin once wrote that they had a dock on their property and they could get around by boat, which he thought was cool. Mom wrote that the winter wasn’t too bad at all—that mostly it just rained a lot. Maybe Northern California, Kate always surmised. Or the Northwest coast. Even if her hunches were right about that, it was still a huge amount of territory.

She didn’t even know their new name.

Page by page, she pieced through the stack of correspondence. At first it was pretty much just “miss you” notes and a lot of complaints. Things weren’t the same where they were. Nothing was like before. Justin was finding it hard to meet new friends. Em was mostly miffed about Dad and new squash coaches who weren’t as good.

Mom just seemed depressed. “You don’t know how much we all miss you, darling.”

Then, over the year, the messages got a little brighter. As Agent Seymour had promised, they started adjusting. Mom was in a garden club. Justin found this guy who had a music studio in his basement, and they started recording stuff. Em met a few boys. She had aced her new SATs. Kate came across the note Em had written about the first concert that Mom had let her go to alone.

“3EB,” Em signed.

No translation needed. Third Eye Blind.

Her sister had sent it back in June, practically giddy with elation. “It was sooo ridiculous, K! So much fun!!! Stephan Jenkins was awesome!!!” They stayed until after midnight. On a school night. One of her girlfriends had arranged for a limo to drive them back home.

It made Kate smile to read it all over again. Then suddenly the smile receded. She focused on the band’s name.

Third Eye Blind.

That was it! Third Eye Blind. Kate ran across the room to her desk and flicked on the computer. She Googled the band’s name. A few seconds later, their Web site appeared on the screen. There was a link on the site for NEWS, and when Kate clicked on it, she found another link for the band’s recent summer tour. She scrolled down. Em’s e-mail was dated June 14. June 2 and 3, the band played in Los Angeles. June 6, they moved on to San Francisco.

June 9 and 10, they were in Seattle, Washington.

Em had said the concert was the week before. Kate started piecing together what she knew: They took a limo home. They could get around by boat.…

It had to be either San Francisco or Seattle.

But even if she was right, how would she go about finding them? How did she narrow it down? There were millions of people in those cities. This was the proverbial needle in a haystack. And she didn’t even have a name. She didn’t even know what the needle looked like.

Until it dawned on her.

“Now on, where you go, I go,” her new bodyguard, whose name was Oliva, had told her. “When you’re at work, I’m at work. When you row, I row.…”

Jesus, Kate, that’s it!

She rowed. Sharon did yoga. And Emily … Emily was the key!

Kate got up and went to the window. The WITSEC agent’s car was parked on the street below.

She knew there was no way she could tell Greg. And that fact was already making her feel disloyal and ashamed. He would say it was way too dangerous, too crazy. If she told him, he would never, ever let her go. She couldn’t bring it up.

And she’d somehow have to lose these WITSEC guards first.

Fergus wagged his way over, sensing something, and plopped his chin on her knee.

“Sorry, baby.” Kate put her head down and stroked his ears. “Daddy’s going to hate me. But I have to be gone for a while.”

Maybe she did know what the needle looked like after all.