Page 172 of The Advocate’s Ultimatum

“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.”

Chapter 66

Wednesday afternoon

In his car, DuBois watched Rourke head toward a dark gray SUV parked halfway down the block. The man was calm, unhurried, and no obvious scanning. If Rourke knew he was about to become the center of a multi-vehicle surveillance operation, he hid it well.

“Primary target moving,” Chen said softly over the tactical channel.

Rourke climbed into the SUV and pulled into traffic. Chen eased away from the curb three vehicles behind him. Perfect spacing. DuBois waited another five seconds before pulling out himself. Urban rode shotgun beside him while Martinez drifted into position farther back. Everything looked smooth, which made DuBois nervous. Experienced investigators usually worried more when things felt easy.

“Speed steady,” Chen reported. “Southbound Harbor.”

DuBois kept his distance while watching Rourke move through traffic.

Urban glanced sideways at him. “Do you think he’s checking?”

“Always.”

Good investigators never stopped checking. Especially ones who spent years learning how to follow people without being noticed, and Rourke had spent even more years watching his back.

Rourke merged onto Interstate 5 northbound with Chen still primary. Martinez rotated closer. They made a clean transition and got no brake taps from Rourke, no hesitation. The SUV moved with steady confidence through traffic.

“I don’t think he’s driving home,” Urban said.

DuBois had started thinking the same thing. “Me either. He’s not that relaxed. He’s driving like he’s still working, measured lane changes, consistent speed, and no wasted movement.

Martinez’ voice crackled softly again. “Target exiting Mission Bay.”

DuBois followed at a distance while Martinez slipped between them naturally with a delivery van now buffering the line of sight. That was good.