Page 20

“ I t’s an active tracker, rather than a passive one.”

“Passive. Those are the teen driver trackers, right?”

Hayes sent Reese a quizzical look over his shoulder as he fit her key into the lock.

He opened the door and did a quick walk-through of her apartment as if he expected someone might have been there in their absence.

When he rejoined her, he picked up the thread of conversation.

“I’ve never heard of them referred to that way.

You’re saying parents try to track where their kids have been? Seems sort of shady.”

“Maybe.” She’d written an article several years ago about the lengths parents went to ensure their children obeyed safety rules.

“More recently, they’ve turned to apps to track their cell phones.

But for families with firm orders about how far their kids can travel and where they go, I spoke to more than a few parents who would check a tracker they put on the car to monitor their young drivers’ whereabouts. ”

The conversation was a buffer from the wall of emotion that threatened to steamroll her. Someone had put a geolocator on Julia’s vehicle. The realization blazed through her mind, but only elicited more questions. “What does active mean? That the car’s location can be tracked in real time?”

“Yes.” Setting the plastic bag down on the table, he headed to the kitchen and transferred the plastic container with last night’s dinner from the refrigerator to the microwave.

Of course. They’d missed lunch. Or, in her case, breakfast too, but food was the last thing she was thinking about right now.

“There’s no way to tell at this point if the tracker is still live.

But it has a serial number, which means it can be traced back to the manufacturer, and with a warrant, it shouldn’t be difficult to identify the purchaser.

” The microwave dinged, and he divided the stir-fry onto two plates, added forks, and set both on the table. “Sit. You need to eat.”

She obeyed, not because she had an appetite but because she had more queries. “How could the manufacturer identify the person who bought it?”

“Someone has to contact them to activate the device.” Hayes spoke between bites. “Real-life tracking requires a subscription, which means a credit card would be on file.” His next words doused her rush of adrenaline. “How long ago did your aunt die?”

“Three months.”

“The subscription has likely been terminated. But that doesn’t mean the company wouldn’t still have their information. We’ll do a little research and look at the specifications for the tracker, so I’ll have a better idea of how it worked.”

“I need to share this with Detective Gibbons. He’s investigating the hit-and-run.” All sorts of ideas were crashing and colliding in her head, and Reese reined them in, trying not to get ahead of herself.

“You can do that while I figure out what we’ve got here. Eat.” To soften the command, he added, “You’ve had some hard knocks in the last few hours. Your body—and your brain—needs fuel.”

Because he wasn’t wrong, she scooped up a forkful of the dish and chewed without enthusiasm. “Is the gadget wireless or battery-operated? Or does it somehow connect to the vehicle’s power?”

“I don’t see where it would hold batteries, so I’m guessing it’s wireless. Bluetooth, maybe. I’ll know more when I pin down the manufacturer.”

“If the device was active when Julia died, we can conclude someone could have followed her from Rivers’s office.”

When his plate was empty, he took it to the kitchen and tossed it before returning with a bag of trail mix. “Right now, there’s no way to tell how long the device has been on her car or who put it there. It could have been a jealous ex or a competitor. Maybe a stalker.”

“Julia was in a long-term relationship. His name is Lucas Morrow. He’s wrecked over her death.

” She scooped up another bite and considered his words.

“A competitor is possible. She never mentioned any worries in that area, but other journalists are always looking for an edge. My aunt was experienced in her field, with a solid reputation. But she also traveled a lot. Trailing her movements in San Diego would often just lead to the airport.”

He reached over and tipped the bag to spill some of the contents on her plate. “I’m not sure I can even finish what I have,” she protested.

“It’s nutritious and gives you energy.” He grabbed another handful. “Anyway, it’s a waste of time speculating when we might have solid answers soon.”

She took her cell from her pocket and called Gibbons’s number and extension. As expected, she got his voicemail, and after leaving him a detailed message about the tracker they’d discovered, she hung up and finished what she could before pushing the plate away.

Hayes had returned the snack to the kitchen and came back to the table with his laptop, booting it up.

Curious, Reese rounded the table to watch over his shoulder.

For the first time she realized how filthy his shirt was.

She plucked at it with her thumb and index finger.

“I may owe you a new T-shirt.” His jeans were probably no better.

Crawling around on the concrete of a parking garage would do that.

He angled his head, trying to see the back of his tee.

“It’ll probably come out with some stain spray stuff.

But I should change so I don’t get it on your furniture.

” He typed in a web address and rose, pulling the shirt over his head as he walked to her bedroom.

Because she wasn’t dead, she watched his retreat, observing the way the muscles in his back rippled with his movements.

With effort, she dragged her gaze away, mentally berating herself.

Now wasn’t the time to recall how long she’d been celibate.

And he wasn’t her type, anyway. Instinct told her he wouldn’t be easily dismissed after an hour or two in bed.

And what the hell was she doing even contemplating the subject in the midst of everything that had gone down in the last thirty-six hours?

Hayes Moreland presented a danger of his own.

He was too intuitive. The memory of him standing in Julia’s bedroom this morning, obviously studying the notes she’d arranged had her mentally backpedaling.

His expertise had proven valuable, but his observations about her weren’t entirely comfortable.

Reese wasn’t about to invite him to examine the wounds of her childhood.

Although from the little he’d said last night, she gathered that his past hid some painful memories, as well.

He returned in an almost identical outfit, the clothes he’d worn clutched in one fist and headed to the bathroom. He must have discovered the stacked washer and dryer in the closet there. He was self-sufficient. Most bachelors had to be.

It occurred to her then that she didn’t actually know if he was single.

He wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t mean he was unattached.

Reese actually found herself hoping that he was in a relationship.

Surely that would turn off her highly inappropriate awareness of him.

She chose to blame it on the shocks, beginning with Raiker’s appearance and then seeing Moreland again.

Remembering her reaction to both men yesterday had her rounding the table, picking up her plate, and disposing of it.

She grabbed two bottles of water, setting one near his computer and going back to her seat.

Having the table’s expanse between them provided a measure of comfort.

She needed to maintain her distance from the man, both emotionally and physically.

He’d be gone soon. They’d never see each other again.

The realization should have brought relief, but it just muddied her quagmire of feelings.

He emerged from the bathroom and reseated himself in front of his laptop, rapidly typing something. “No better place to start than with the second leading retailer on the globe, which makes it way too easy to order from. Who doesn’t love free shipping?”

Reese smiled. “It spoils you. Fortunately, other retailers are also upping their game.” She picked up her cell again, intent on checking her email.

But it was only a few moments before Hayes announced, “I think this is it.”

“How could you possibly have found it that fast?” She wanted to go over and peer over his shoulder but squelched the urge. Distance, she reminded herself.

“Easy enough when I had the serial number.” He got up and retrieved the clear bag—an evidence bag she realized now—and returned with it to the table.

He spent a few more minutes comparing the device to the image he was studying before saying, “Wireless. Bluetooth. Middle of the road in price.” His mouth pulled up.

“Four point six on reviews, if you can trust those.” He read for another minute and said, “Do you have any more of those sticky notes?”

Like the ones he’d spotted in Julia’s bedroom. He didn’t add that last, but the memory of finding him in the doorway, his gaze fixed on the arrangement of three-by-three sheets, still made her pulse jittery.

She got up and crossed to the small desk tucked into the corner by the bank of windows in the living room.

Opened a drawer and withdrew another notepad, and took it to him.

It was bad enough that he’d witnessed what Thorne put her through.

She wouldn’t willingly invite him to peruse the nightmare from her childhood, as well.

“Thanks.” Hayes began copying from the webpage in a neat print.

“When Gibbons returns your call, you can give him this much information about the device. It’ll be enough to start on a warrant for the company until we can get this to the detective.

If you find an email address for him, I’ll send him the pictures I took.

They’ll want to see where it was located. ”