Andrew Gross 3-Book Thriller Collection 1: The Dark Tide, Don’t Look Twice, Relentless. Andrew Gross

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СКАЧАТЬ already put out an IP user trace through the Web site’s server, Ty. You understand, I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for you?”

      “I know that, Joe.”

      “So I went to the blog site. They didn’t put up a lot of resistance. It’s amazing what a government agency can do, post-9/11, even without a subpoena. Got a pen?”

      Hauck scrambled around the desk. “I’m feeling safer already, Joe. Shoot.”

      “SunDog is just a user name. We traced it back to a Web address, which they supplied us. [email protected].”

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

      Hauck fixed on the name. Oilman. He knew without needing anything else that they had found him. Everything inside him told him this was Charles.

      “Is this traceable, Joe?”

      “Yes … and no. As you know, Hotmail is a free Internet site. Therefore you don’t need anything but a given name to register, and it doesn’t even have to be a real one to get that done. Or even a real address. But we can go back to them and trace what was on the application. And there’s a communication history we can go back on. What I can’t do, however, is narrow that down to a specific place.”

      Hauck’s blood surged with optimism. “Okay …”

      “The activity seems to be coming from the Caribbean region. Not to a specific location though, but on a wireless LAN. There’s been activity picked up around St. Maarten, the BVIs. Even as far away as Panama.”

      “The guy’s been traveling?”

      “Maybe, or on a boat.”

      A boat. That made sense to Hauck. “Can we narrow that down?”

      “With time,” the JIATF man explained. “We can set up a surveillance and monitor future activity and triangulate a point of origin. But that takes manpower. And paperwork. And other countries involved. You understand what I mean. And I gather that’s something you’re not eager to deal with, are you, Ty?”

      “No,” he admitted. “Not if I can help it, Joe.”

      “That’s what I thought. So this is the next-best step. We traced the application information through the Hotmail people. That much I can do, but after that you’re on your own.”

      “That’s great!”

      “The address on the account is to a post-office box at the central post office on the island of St. Maarten in the Caribbean. I went as far as I could without getting anyone else involved and checked down there. It’s registered to a Steven Hanson, Ty. That ring a bell?”

      “Hanson?” At first it was a blank, but then something went off inside him. “Hold on a second, Joe….”

      He swiveled around the desk, rifling through a stack of papers. Until he found it.

      The list of new subscribers from Mustang World.

      He had narrowed it down to just a handful of names. From all over the region: Panama.

      Honduras. The Bahamas. The BVIs…. It took a few seconds, scanning the list. Hopewell, March, Camp, O’Shea.

      But there it was!

      S. Hanson. Date of subscription: 1/17. This year! The only address given was a post-office box on St. Kitts.

       Steven Hanson.

      A surge of validation ran through Hauck’s veins.

      Steven Hanson was Oilman0716. And Oilman0716 had to be Charles. Too much fit.

      The car. The Concours. The little phrases. Karen had been right. This was the part of him that could not change. His baby.

       They had found him!

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

      The doorbell rang, and when Karen went to answer it, she stood fixed in surprise. “Ty …”

      Samantha was in the kitchen, polishing off a yogurt, watching the tube. Alex had his feet slung over the couch in the family room, alternately groaning and exulting loudly, engrossed in the latest Wii video game.

      Hauck’s face was lit up with anticipation. “There’s something I have to show you, Karen.”

      “Come on in.”

      Karen had tried to shield the kids from all that was going on—her shifting moods, the worry that seemed permanently etched in her face right now. Her frustrated, late-night rummaging through Charles’s old things.

      But it was a losing fight. They weren’t exactly stupid. They saw the unfamiliar circumspection, the tenseness, her temper a little quicker than it had ever been before. Ty’s showing up unannounced would only arouse their suspicions even more.

      “C’mon in here,” Karen said, taking him into the kitchen. “Sam, you remember Detective Hauck?”

      Her daughter looked up, her knees curled on the stool, dressed in sweatpants and a Greenwich Huskies T-shirt, her expression somewhere between confused and surprised. “Hi.”

      “Good to see you again,” Hauck said. “Hear you’re gearing up for graduation?”

      “Yeah. Next week.” She nodded. She shot a glance toward Karen.

      “Tufts, right?”

      “Yeah,” she said again. “Can’t wait. What’s going on?”

      “I need to speak with Detective Hauck a second, hon. Maybe we’ll just go …”

      “It’s okay.” She got down from the stool. “I’m leaving.” She tossed her yogurt container into the trash and tossed the spoon into the sink. “Good to see you again,” she said to Hauck, tilting her head and screwing her eyes toward Karen, like, What’s going on?

      Hauck waved. “You, too.”

      Karen flicked off the kitchen TV and led him toward the sunroom. “C’mon, we’ll go in here.” She sat down on the corner of the floral couch. Ty took a seat in the upholstered chair next to her. She had her hair up in a ponytail and was wearing a vintage heather gray Texas Longhorns T-shirt. No makeup. She knew she looked a mess. Still, she knew he wouldn’t show up like this, at night, unless it was about something important.

      He asked her, “Do they know?”

      “About what I found in the mail?” Karen shook her head. “No. I don’t want to worry them. I’ve got my folks coming up next week for the graduation. Charlie’s mom, coming in from PA. They’re going to Africa on safari with my folks a few days later. Sam’s graduation present. I’ll feel a whole lot better the minute I get them on that plane.”

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