The skinny agent said, “The thing is, Agent Dance, I think I’ve found him.”

“Who?”

“Pell.”

Chapter 40

The young agent explained that he’d called the upscale Sea View Motel in Pacific Grove—only a few miles from where Dance lived—and learned that a woman had checked in on Saturday. She was midtwenties, attractive and blond, slightly built. On Tuesday night, the desk clerk saw a Latino man go into her room.

“The clincher’s the car, though,” Carraneo said. “On the registration she put down Mazda. With a fake tag number—I just ran it. But the manager was sure he saw a turquoise T-bird there for a day or two. It’s not there anymore.”

“They’re at the motel now?”

“He thinks so. The curtain’s drawn but he saw some motion and lights inside.”

“What’s her name?”

“Carrie Madison. But there’s no credit card info. She paid cash and showed a military ID but it was in a plastic wallet sleeve and scratched. Might’ve been faked.”

Dance leaned against the edge of the table, staring at the map. “Occupancy of the motel?”

“No vacancies.”

She grimaced. Plenty of innocents in the place.

Kellogg said, “Let’s plan the takedown.” To Michael: “You have MCSO tactical on alert?”

O’Neil was looking at Dance’s troubled face, and Kellogg had to repeat the question. The detective answered, “We can get teams there in twenty minutes.” He sounded reluctant.

Dance was, as well. “I’m not sure.”

“About what?” the FBI agent asked.

“We know he’s armed and he’ll target civilians. And I know the motel. The rooms look out on a parking lot and courtyard. Hardly any cover. He could see us coming. If we try to empty the rooms nearby and across the way, he’d spot us. If we don’t, people’re going to get hurt. Those walls wouldn’t stop a twenty-two.”

Kellogg asked, “What’re you thinking?”

“Surveillance. Get a team around the building, watch it nonstop. When he leaves, take him on the street.”

O’Neil nodded. “I’d vote for that too.”

“Vote for what?” Charles Overby asked, joining them.

Dance explained the situation.

“We’ve found him? All right!” He turned to Kellogg. “What about FBI tactical teams?”

“They can’t get here in time. We’ll have to go with county SWAT.”

“Michael, you’ve called them?”

“Not yet. Kathryn and I have some problems with a takedown.”

“What?” Overby asked testily.

She explained the risk. The CBI chief understood but he shook his head. “Bird in the hand.”

Kellogg too persisted. “I really don’t think we can risk waiting. He’s gotten away from us twice now.”

“If he gets any hint we’re moving in—and all he has to do is look out the window—he’ll go barricade. If there’s a door to the adjoining room—”

“There is,” Carraneo said. “I asked.”