After nearly forty-five minutes of stop-and-go traffic, Nate’s patience was wearing thin. He glanced at the display and asked, “Are you sure he got off here?”

Alex pressed the “refresh” button once again. After a short delay, the flashing dot appeared on the map and she said, “Yes, it looks like he must have gotten off at exit 10.”

Nate veered off the highway and focused on the nearby cars as he headed toward the location on the map.

As they approached the signal, Alex hit “refresh” yet again and as the screen redrew the cell phone’s location, she concluded, “I think he’s stopped. The signal hasn’t moved at all.”

“I don’t see any damned Mercedes anywhere.”

“Turn right on Lyell Avenue.”

Nate flicked his attention back and forth between the street and the tracking display as they approached the cell phone’s location.

Alex pointed at a large parking lot. “The signal is coming from there.”

Nate turned into the lot. “I still don’t see his car.” He scanned the large expanse of asphalt and his stomach churned as he realized where he was. “What the hell is he doing at the US Postal Service’s processing center?”

Alex shook her head. “I have no idea.”

Nate pulled into a parking spot. “Let’s find out.”

###

They stepped into a warehouse that was clearly for employees only. Nate couldn’t help but think they’d made some kind of mistake.

One of the tractor trailers was unloading large baskets of mail for further processing. He approached a man wearing a US Postal Service uniform and flashed his badge. “I’m Special Agent Carrington with the FBI. I’m looking for a man who I believe just arrived here. He’s around forty-five, blond hair, six foot two, two hundred pounds. Have you seen anyone like that around? Name is Steve Chalmers.”

The rough-looking worker shook his head. “There’s definitely nobody by that name. I’d know. I’m the current shift’s processing manager.”

Nate panned his gaze across the warehouse and the countless stacks of mail waiting to be sorted. He frowned. “Did you by chance see a black Mercedes in the last ten to fifteen minutes?”

The manager gave a crooked smile. “We don’t see too many Mercedes around here. I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed one if it had come by.”

Feeling a strong sense of disgust, Nate wondered if the number they’d been tracking was wrong, or maybe the triangulation they’d been following was wholly inaccurate.

Alex nudged Nate and whispered, “Why don’t we just call Chalmers and see if we can flush him out?”

Nate sighed. “Not like there’s anything to lose at this stage.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the doctor’s number.

Putting the phone against his ear, he heard a ring, followed by another.