He sat down on the bed and pressed one, guessing she wouldn’t follow the same pattern.
“Sorry about that. Can’t be too careful. Here’s what I need you to do, and don’t write any of this down. Tomorrow morning, at a normal hour for you, place your phone in your safe and run a three-hour SDR. Check your vehicle for trackers before leaving. Physically disable any systems like OnStar. Leave your E-ZPass behind. You must go dark to and from this destination. No credit cards or anything traceable. I know what you’re thinking—Mom can’t even let go of this shit after she’s dead.”
He stifled a laugh. Mom’s sense of humor could be wicked, particularly when things were tough going. Dad had called it gallows humor. Devin had never really understood it until he’d started working for the Special Surveillance Group. The long, thankless days and nights on stakeout that yielded nothing. Exhaustively choreographed, hours-long street-surveillance gigs to track a target to an adult video store. They became the stand-up comedians of gallows humor.
“I hope that made you laugh a little. Here’s where you’re headed tomorrow. It’s a win-win situation no matter what. Head to the first place we took you for hard-shell crabs. At the marina, look for a boat named after our first dog. You’ll find a waterproof pouch in the bottom galley drawer. In addition to a file with the information I need you to examine, you’ll find a one-hundred-dollar bill to pay for lunch. A hundred bucks buys a lot of fresh crabs—and a few ice-cold beers to wash them down. Press three to repeat that message or one to continue.”
Devin tapped one.
“I love you, Kari, and your father so much, Devin. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I put the three of you through all of this. Be very careful, and don’t trust anyone—except the one I send your way.”
The call ended, and he stared at the phone for several seconds. Did that really just happen? His mom had somehow put together an automated phone and text-message-alert system in case someone tried to murder or kidnap her? This either took her craziness to the next level or—he didn’t know. It had to be more of the madness. Right?
He lay down with the phone still in his hand and stared at the ceiling. May as well get used to the view. The prospect of a food-induced sleep had just been revoked. His heart raced at twice its resting rate, his feet and hands tingling. It would take him a few hours to come down from this adrenaline rush. Whether he could fall asleep after that was anyone’s guess.
Devin looked at the initial text message again. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope. Of all the things she could have picked to say, this hit him pretty hard. He could picture them stuffed into the corner of the sectional, snuggled up under a blanket watching Star Wars. Mom and Dad in the middle. Kari on one side. Devin on the other. He wiped the tears from his eyes. What the hell happened at that intersection in Tennessee, Mom?
Maybe the answer waited for him in Annapolis, on a boat named Sadie. There was only one way to find out. Worst-case scenario? The information turned out to be nothing. Devin enjoying a lazy afternoon cracking open perfectly seasoned hard-shell crabs and downing a few cold beers while overlooking the water. Best-case scenario? It all depended on what was in the file. Either way, he’d enjoy cold beers and steaming-hot crabs for lunch. Like his mom said: win-win.
CHAPTER 11
Harvey Rudd braced one hand against the dashboard, his eyes fixed on the phone screen held firmly in the other. As the SUV lurched to a stop, his torso pressed against the lap and shoulder belts.
“Take it easy,” said Rudd. “We’re not in a race.”
“That was the shortest yellow light I’ve ever seen,” said Jolene.
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t uh-huh me,” she said.
“Yep.”
“That’s even worse.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, getting a sharp elbow to the ribs under his raised arm.
“Dammit. That hurt,” said Rudd.
“Then knock it off,” she said. “Unless you’d like to do the driving.”
“I wish.”
The truth was that Jolene drove like this all the time—and she knew it better than he did. Her driving fell somewhere on the scale between extremely impatient and overly aggressive, trending toward the latter. Because of this, she rarely drove during operations. They’d both agreed on that. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to put her in the driver’s seat today.
Jolene could use electronic devices just fine, but she couldn’t troubleshoot them to save her life. Their communications-and-control gear wasn’t overly complicated, but they couldn’t afford a critical technology slipup on this mission. The job itself would prove difficult enough, and their performance over the next several days would likely determine their future living conditions.