“Who, specifically, wanted you to back off?”
“Thomas Anson, Dad’s counsel, for one. You heard what he said. He thought I would be better served to get on with my life.”
“Who else?”
“Charles Frazier. I spoke to him about the theft, asked him how many munitions had been stolen. He was evasive, just said the weapons would be worth a lot of money.”
“Anson and Frazier both visited your father the day he died.”
She nodded. “According to the list, Frazier came in with his assistant, Andrew Horton. He’s a young guy, a computer specialist. I met him, but he was on his way out, so I didn’t really get to talk to him.”
“With any luck, we’ll be talking to Frazier tomorrow. Maybe we can speak to Horton while we’re there.”
“There was also a woman on the list. Mara Ramos. Dad never mentioned her.”
“We’ll track her down.” Bran glanced regretfully around the beautiful suite. “We need to pack up and get out of here before those guys or someone else decides to take another crack at us. I’m sorry to say, the next place won’t be nearly so nice. We need to find a spot with a lower profile.”
“I can do that while you’re driving,” Jessie said.
“You could, but you need to take the battery out of your phone so they can’t track us. Mine’s encrypted. It’s also got antitracking software.”
Jessie had to admit she was impressed.
“There’s a disposable you can use in my gear bag.”
She took the battery out of her cell, went over and got the disposable and stuck it in her purse. Quickly repacking her carry-on, she towed it into the living room.
“You ready?” Bran asked.
“Whenever you are.”
He grabbed his duffel and slung it over his shoulder. “Time to get the hell out of Dodge.”
Bran’s pistol rested on the center console as the SUV rolled along in the darkness. While he made evasive moves to be sure no one followed, Jessie brought up Expedia on the disposable phone and found a Holiday Inn and Suites that met their needs but was a little off the beaten path.
The suite Jessie had found was basic, just a bedroom, bathroom, living room, and small galley kitchen. The rooms were decorated with the usual hotel furniture, brown veneered tables, a dark brown tweed sofa in the living room that unfolded into a queen-size bed, a cheap pair of lamps.
Bran figured the sofa bed would be lumpy and uncomfortable, but at least the suite was roomy. They set up their laptops at opposite ends of the dining table, and both of them went to work.
Jessie had told him she made notes every day on the information they gathered. “I document everything, then speculate on what it might mean and decide what actions I should take next.”
“Sounds useful,” he’d said. And meant it. It was good to keep tabs on the investigation. Since Jessie was handling that part of the job, he didn’t have to worry about it.
So far she’d only grumbled a little about having to give up internet access on her laptop for fear of being tracked, while Bran’s was even more protected than his phone.
While she worked, he phoned Tabitha Love, The Max’s computer guru, a brainy female who knew the ins and outs of the internet like nobody he had ever met.
“Hey, Tab, I need a favor,” he said when she picked up.
“Hey, Bran, no problem. What can I do for you?”
“I need you to run a plate number. Got a hunch it’s stolen, but I need to be sure.” He rattled off the vehicle description and Colorado plate number EQZ-555.
“I’ll call you back,” Tabby said. Since she also did occasional work for law enforcement, she had access to all sorts of useful information.
“Who’s Tab?” Jessie asked from the far end of the table.
Bran noticed the faint slump in her shoulders. After the day she’d had, she had to be exhausted, but Jessie rarely complained.
