Page 90 of Mission: Possible

"Nothing," I decided. "Nothing at all."

Chapter Eighteen

"I'm sorry it took me so long to call you back," said Alice when I answered the phone.

I checked my watch. "It's only been thirty minutes. I figured you got stuck doing something."

"Stuck, no. Something, yes. I went to Sophie's room and told Austen I wanted to check Sophie for bedsores since she'd been confined to the same position for several days. Anyway, I checked her arms and found nothing. I checked her toes too and some other veins because the really hardcore addicts often use concealed injection sites but I didn't spot a single mark anywhere on her. Are you sure she injected drugs?"

"According to someone who knew her a few years ago, yes. Is it possible the track marks healed up?"

"It's possible, but if she were a heavy user I would expect to see lasting damage to her veins, particularly on her arms. I didn't see that at all. And as you know, I can't divulge her medical records but I'm sure Austen will confirm any bloodwork results if he hasn't told you everything already. But that's not what kept me. She moved her fingers today and showed signs of being able to hear me."

"What? That's great!"

"I thought so too. I paged her doctor and she's with her now, checking her over. It's a very good prognosis."

"It's also a sign I need to hurry," I said, knowing that Austen needed more answers. "Thanks for telling me."

"Is everything okay?" Alice asked. "I know you have to explore a lot of avenues in your investigation but asking about drug addiction sounded like a particularly bad one."

"It's just another avenue," I said. "I'll know more soon."

"Great. I have to go home now but thanks again for taking this case."

"I'm glad you brought it to my attention."

By the time I got off the phone, my neck ached and Solomon and Delgado were in the boardroom. As Fletcher and Flaherty strolled past me, the door banging shut behind them, I got up and followed them inside, curious to know how their case was progressing. If anything could distract me from mine, it was definitely theirs.

"Staking out the house was a bust," said Delgado, looking over at us. "I knew it would be after the police combed it but it was worth a chance."

"Thomas Mackleton's place?" I asked.

Delgado nodded, saying, "We acted on the possibility someone from the crew or his personal life might come by but no one did. That said, the crime scene tape is visible from a couple blocks away. The cops didn't scrimp on their application."

"So anyone would be put off, possibly without you even knowing," said Solomon. "Plus, if the crew were behind his killing, they already knew to stay away. Okay. Forget the house. No one is going back there." He pulled a pen from the tray under the whiteboard and put a red cross through the house. "I have a lead on the sister. Post Army, Nessa Reyes qualified as a personal instructor in Seattle three years ago. Worked for a local gym for a year then vanished again. I'm thinking she freelances off the books because I haven't found any tax returns or evidence of advertising for clients in Washington. It doesn't seem like there's any connection between her brother and her so I doubt she'll be able to shed any light on whom Thomas was hanging out with. They might have cut all their ties entirely."

"Does she have any weapons training?" I asked.

Solomon shrugged. "I can't say one way or the other. Are you thinking she could be the female robber?"

"Maybe. But if they're not in touch, and she's currently not even in the state, then it's pretty unlikely."

"I'm looking into Mackleton's arrest records with Jord," said Solomon. "We think he might have made friends with one of the gang during those times. We're comparing any arrests made on the same day, and any cellmates and cellblock acquaintances he might have encountered on the days he was in lock-up. Then I’m cross-referencing those names with any connections to bank robberies or the Army. It's a lot to wade through."

"I went over Lexi's catalogue of salvaged deposit items and I don't see anything that stands out," said Fletcher.

As we stood in silence, each contemplating the whiteboard, the office door banged open and Lucas raced in, holding a sheet of paper high overhead. "Got it!" he announced loudly in the doorway.

"Discount voucher for the donut shop down the street?" asked Fletcher.

"A generic apology for all the women you've dated?" asked Flaherty.

"Blackmail on Lexi?" asked Delgado.

I raised my eyebrows at that one. Just what did I accidentally send to the printer this time?

"All are valid guesses," said Lucas. "But you're all wrong. I’ve got the names of the bank box owners."