“That’s where he’s going?” Zoe asked.
“According to his mother,” Skye said.
“We don’t know his motivation,” Edge said. “But, more importantly, we need to know if Henson and Lila are traveling with Rollie, and if they are, where exactly they wind up.”
Zoe whirled her chair back toward her computer screen. “I’ll set up a program to mark their route as the cell phone changes location. I can send a map to both your phones showing their progress.”
“They would be great,” Skye said, more than a little impressed.
They left Zoe to her task and went into the employee lounge. Neither of them wanted to leave the office until they knew for sure the direction Beekman was heading. Skye brewed a fresh pot of coffee. They each filled a mug and sat down at the Formica-topped table.
As the afternoon slid toward evening, the map of Beekman’s travels on Skye’s phone continued to show a southwesterly journey, and soon the phone was pinging on the other side of the New Mexico state line.
“Looks like Mrs. Beekman was right,” Skye said. “The route they’re taking . . . I think they’re purposely avoiding Colorado.”
“Be the smart move,” Edge said.
“You think we should notify the authorities? Bring them up to speed on what we’ve found out?”
Edge shook his head. “We don’t have anything solid, just a lot of speculation and a phone pinging its way across the country. Add to that, if Beekman is traveling with Henson and Lila and we bring in the police, there’s no way to control the situation. Lila could end up dead.”
“So what do you suggest?” Skye asked.
“I suggest we keep watching Beekman’s progress, see where he ends up. Once he’s settled somewhere, we go after him. We find out if Henson and Lila are traveling with him. If they are, we’ll have a better idea what we’re up against. Once we have enough intel, we can go to the police. The DEA still wants Henson. Maybe we’ll be able to help them get him.”
* * *
Morning sun filtered through the curtains in the windows of Edge’s bedroom. He’d been awake for a while, lying contentedly in his big bed with Skye draped over his chest. They’d had a bout of early-morning sex and now drowsed peacefully. He’d get up soon, he told himself. They both had work to do.
Then his cell signaled, the ringtone jarring him fully awake. Skye rolled off him with a yawn as he leaned over and grabbed the phone off the nightstand.
He was too groggy to recognize the number. “Logan.”
“Edge, it’s Grease. I got news you’ll want to hear.”
Swinging his legs to the side of the bed, he pressed the phone against his ear. “Grease. Hey, buddy, what’s going on?”
“Word’s going round a certain army major is getting ready to turn in his papers. He’s getting out, Edge-man. And it’s happening soon.”
Edge’s whole body tightened. “Where’s he going?”
“I hear he’s heading south, not sure where. That’s all I know.”
“Keep me posted, will you?”
“You know I will, Sarge.” The line went dead.
Edge felt the bed move as Skye came up on her knees behind him. She rested her hands on his shoulders. “What’s going on?”
“That was Grease. His real name’s Gill Franklin. He’s one of the guys in my old unit.”
“How’d he get a name like Grease?”
Edge smiled to think of it. “Gill loves junk food—the greasier the better. The nickname stuck.”
Skye must have felt the knot of tension in his shoulders. She started kneading them softly. “Gill must not have had good news.”
“In a way it was.”
