Free Watchlist by Jeffery Deaver

step back and a deep breath might be a good idea. I’ll check you out, we’ll go home. See if Harry’s there or left us a message. You need a change of clothes, something to eat. We’ll sort everything out.”
    “Do you trust me?”
    “Of course.”
    “Then help me. Please.”
    In the end, she wore him down. Worried that one of the bogus agents was watching the front of the hospital, she refused to allow him to officially check her out. The hospital would insist on a wheelchair—standard policy—and a front-door exit. Instead they took the stairs and slipped out the delivery entrance.
    She waited while he brought the car around. Once they were both buckled in, he looked at her. “What’s the plan?”
    “We find Harry.”
    He smiled at her. “Good plan. How do y—”
    The faint sound of a digitized version of the song “Brown-Eyed Girl” interrupted him.
    Her cell phone’s ring tone.
    “It’s in your purse,” he said. “I locked it in the—”
    “Trunk.”
    He shifted into park, threw open his car door and climbed out. A moment later he returned with her purse, cell clipped to it, message light blinking frantically.
    A number she didn’t recognize—perhaps her father had bought a prepaid for security. She quickly scrolled through a half-dozen missed calls and one text message waiting. All from Harry.
    She returned the last call first, and it was answered on the first ring. “Dad, it’s me. Thank God! I was so worried.”
    “Charlotte! Where are you?”
    “Jack and I—”
    She bit the words back, realization crashing in on her. Not her father. Her father hadn’t called her Charlotte since the second grade.”
    “Charlotte? Sweetheart, are you—”
    With a sound of distress, she hung up. “Drive, Jack. Now.”
    He did as she instructed. “What happened?”
    “Someone pretended to be Harry. They wanted to know where I was.”
    “Check your messages.”
    She did. At the sound of her father’s voice relief flooded her.
    “Charley, I’ve been delayed. I hope to still make a late dinner. Love you.”
    She frowned at the second message. “Charley, there’s a situation here. I’ll explain everything when I get there. Look . . . Be careful. Stay with Jack. Don’t trust anyone you don’t know. My flight’s due into Dulles at 7:10 p.m.”
    By the third and last message there was no denying the panic in his voice. “Where are you? I’m boarding the Paris flight. When you get this, dial back so I’ll know you’re okay.”
    She checked the text message next.
    GREEN LANTERN EVAC SCOTLAND
    She stared at those four little words, feeling as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the car’s interior.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Change in plans. We’re going to Capitol Hill. The Scotland—The St. Regis.”
    While he drove, she explained about the code. When she finished, he glanced at her. “This is a gag?”
    “Hardly. Harry would never have sent that text message unless it was for real.”
    “Maybe he didn’t send it?”
    The thought chilled her, but only for a moment. “No, no one else would know our code. Even mother only knew part of it. Harry sent it.”
    “This makes no sense. It’s like some cloak-and-dagger parlor game. Only you’re telling me it’s real.” Perez pulled up in front of the hotel. “What is your dad, some kind of a spy?”
    She flung open the car door. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
    Moments later, she greeted the guest services agent. She dug a photo of Harry out of her wallet; the guy at the desk squinted at it, then nodded.
    “He was here. Looking for some woman. You, I suppose. Went to the bar to wait.”
    She thanked him and hurried to the lounge. She saw right away that he wasn’t there.
    She crossed to the bar. The bartender was busy with another patron, a stunning redhead. While she waited for him to finish, her attention was drawn to the television behind the bar, the news story being broadcast. A shooting at Dulles. A police officer