“Yes. He came out about an hour later and drove home. Minutes after that, he had a visitor.”

“Who?”

“Unknown. The agent assigned to him was at the wrong end of the alley. He alerted the agent watching Garcia, who was in front of the building, but by the time he got to the other side of the alley, the person had driven away.”

Zeke gritted his teeth. “We need more eyes on this.”

“We don’t have unlimited resources, you know.” The man seemed a bit annoyed. “We’ve already got two surveillance units assigned to that house to cover both men—on top of the unit watching the back road to the school at night. The special event in the mall was just bad luck.”

Or crafty planning by Hernandez.

But if the man was part of the St. Louis distribution organization . . . and the leaders were as smart as they seemed to be . . . why would they have sicced him on a federal agent? They had to know that launching an attack on an undercover operative would increase law enforcement scrutiny.

While the evidence suggested Hernandez was behind the attacks on both him and Cate, the rationale didn’t fit.

They were all missing a vitally important piece.

“Anything else?” Tamping down his frustration, Zeke picked up the briefcase from the seat beside him.

“No.”

“Let me know if there are any new developments.”

“You’ll be my first call. Watch your back.”

“Goes without saying.”

Zeke pressed the end button, locked his car, and walked toward the entrance to the school. Or rather, limped.

Yesterday’s dive and roll had taken a toll on his leg.

On a brighter note, he had an afternoon study session with Cate to look forward to—and today they’d have far more to discuss than during their previous meeting.

He checked his watch and headed for his office. With forty-five minutes to kill before his first class, a large coffee was his top priority. Thank goodness his predecessor had stocked her digs with a personal coffeemaker and—

“Zeke!” Richard Tucker waved from down the hall and hastened toward him. Based on the man’s harried demeanor, he was still reeling from the news about the “mugging” Zeke had shared with him in a phone call last night.

“Morning, Richard.”

“Why are you here? You should have taken the day off.”

“No reason to. As I told you last night, I’m fine.”

“But shots were fired!”

“Fortunately for me, the guy’s aim was bad.”

Richard pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. “I don’t know what to think. A student runs away and disappears . . . another student is attacked in the woods . . . one of our teachers is almost robbed at gunpoint . . . this is all very, very distressing.”

From both a personal and professional standpoint, no doubt.