Page 31 of Reckless
Xavier squinted at the screen. “Dark blue van?”
“Yes,” Serena answered. “Four days ago, it entered the parking lot at 1:38 AM and exited at 1:52.”
“Okay,” he said. “But why—” He caught his breath when he saw the guy in the passenger seat. The van was leaving the parking lot, and though it was just a brief glimpse, he could see that the man had his head leaned back, and a cloth covered part of his face. It’s what someone would do if they’d been punched in the nose. Was that where the blood had come from? Had Jazz busted the nose of one of her abductors? Had he gone to the bathroom and tried to clean up, leaving the blood evidence behind?
“I know it’s not much,” Serena said, “but I checked the front-desk registry. None of their guests registered with a dark blue van, and if you’ll notice…” She enlarged a photo of the van as it was exiting the parking lot. “No tags.”
“That’s a good lead, Serena,” Ash said. “We got anything else?”
“Yes. Since the van seemed like the likeliest, I’ve tapped into traffic cam recordings throughout the city. I managed to follow the vehicle all the way to Highway 405. They got off on an exit that leads to an industrial area. Lots of factories and businesses. I sent out a drone to explore the area, but nothing helpful has come back yet.”
“And once we get fingerprint matches or DNA on the blood, we’ll have a better idea of where else we need to look,” Ash said.
“Yes. It shouldn’t take long. I’ve got our best people on this.”
“Okay. Good work. Anything else?”
“Yes,” Serena said. “Xavier was right about the rental car. The white Toyota Camry was rented by Joy Monroe, Jazz’s alias for this op.”
Yeah, he’d figured one of the cars had belonged to her.
Ash turned to Xavier. “While we wait for more intel, let’s review Jazz’s last few known movements.”
Drawing in a breath, Xavier said, “Jazz told me she was taking time off. She never said anything, but I thought she would go back to her apartment. When Hawke and I were at the restaurant, doing a final follow-up, one of the employees mentioned a young woman who’d been asking questions. He described Jazz to a T. That was my first clue that she was still in Seattle.”
“So instead of taking off like she said she was, she continued to investigate but on her own?” Eve said. “That’s so out of character for Jazz.”
Xavier agreed wholeheartedly. Jazz was the ultimate team player and had a tendency to get pissed if one of them did something without involving the entire team.
“And you have no idea why she would do this?” Ash said.
“No.”
“Okay. Let’s take a look at what she left in the safe.”
Grabbing the bag he’d put beside his chair, he opened it and spread the contents across the table. There were no real clues here—at least nothing that would tell them what might have happened. However, what she had left behind was beyond significant and had confirmed to Xavier that she had left the motel against her will.
The items in front of them consisted of Jazz’s OZ-issued cellphone, two burner phones, two passports, and driver’s licenses for two different aliases. There was also more than twenty-four hundred dollars in cash, as well as Jazz’s back-up gun, which she usually wore either strapped to her ankle or in a thigh holster. All these things were consistent with what any OZ operative would have with them on an op. One never knew when another alias might be required. The cash amount was fairly standard, if a little low.
If she had checked out of the motel voluntarily, she would never have left those things behind. But those items weren’t what had solidified his belief that Jazz had been taken. Two other objects stood out conspicuously. First was the tiny vial containing the GPS skin patch they had planned to use to tag Franco Bass. She had likely forgotten to return it after the op, but there was no way she would willingly leave behind such expensive and rare tech. It would have been the height of unprofessional, and that was not Jazz.
But the number one item that he knew she would never have left behind lay before him like a lone teardrop. A sterling silver heart-shaped locket, which held the only photo she had left of her family. Though she never wore it on a mission, not wanting anyone during an op to ever see a glimpse of the real Jazz McAlister, everyone at OZ knew that she carried the locket with her at all times.
Xavier didn’t need to look at the photo to see it in his mind. She’d told him that her mother and stepfather had given her the locket when she was eight years old. The picture was of the four of them—her mother, stepfather, stepbrother, and Jazz. In the photo, Jazz was seven years old—a tiny little girl with a big grin, a missing front tooth, and twinkling dark brown eyes. Her stepfather was a tall, blond man who towered over his small wife and stepdaughter. Jazz’s mother had long, black hair and was slender. With the exception of her eye color and hair length, she was a replica of how her daughter looked today.
Brody, only eleven years old at the time of the photo, was already almost as tall as his father, with golden-brown hair, vivid green eyes, and an oddly serious look for one so young.
The locket was Jazz’s most cherished possession. It was all she had left of her family, and unless the devil himself swept her away, she would not leave the locket behind. And that was Xavier’s biggest fear. Some devil had taken Jazz.
A soft hand landed on his arm, and he glanced over at Eve. “She’s tough as nails, Xavier. She will figure out a way out or a way to contact us.”
Xavier nodded, praying with everything within him that she was right. Yes, Jazz was tough as nails. He remembered the first time he’d seen her. OZ had been in business for about a year by then, but they’d desperately needed more operatives. Times were getting more dangerous, and the number of people they could trust seemed to be shrinking at an alarming rate.
Kate had invited them to the training camp she co-owned with a fellow former FBI agent. Ash, along with Xavier, Sean, Liam, Gideon, and Eve, had gone to observe and hopefully pinpoint a new recruit. They had evaluated five potential operatives that day. None of them had known they were being observed. They had believed they were going through a regular training session. Three men and two women had competed in a series of trials while the six of them had watched.
The moment Jazz had entered his field of vision, Xavier had been mesmerized. It hadn’t been her looks, which he had to admit were stunning. It hadn’t been her skills, which though impressive, were just as good or even somewhat subpar to a couple of the other recruits. It hadn’t even been her smile, which could light up the room like a blazing fire. No, what had fascinated him had been her courage and grit. He had never seen anyone with more sheer determination and drive to succeed. She just never quit. No matter how many times she got knocked down.
Skills could be learned, honed, perfected, but the kind of fire and drive Jazz McAlister possessed was inherent in her DNA.