Free Tag, You're It! by Penny McCall Page A

can," Mike continued. "I took the regular treasure hunter out of commission and made sure you'd get the gig. It's up to you to connect the dots. If there is a connection. Just be careful."
    "You could've told me that before I got on the plane."
    "Hindsight," Mike said. "Guess you still have to earn his trust, Donovan. He dropped you on the animal lady for a reason, maybe you should focus on that."
    The rest went unsaid. This case was like all the others— nothing more than a game. Life or death might be the stakes, but there were still rules and players, and a game board. Sometimes the rules were written by a homicidal maniac or a terrorist, or, in this case, a money hungry hem of a con man. Didn't matter. The rules still had to be followed, at least until all the players were identified and their motives understood. Until Tag figured out Alex's role, and uncovered her affiliations, he had to play along.
    "Give me her name again," Mike said, "and I'll check her out."
    "Alex Scott."
    "Alex? That short for something?"
    "Don't know," Tag said, smiling at a middle-aged woman and her daughter who were passing by.
    The woman curled an arm around her daughter's shoulder and hustled her away. The daughter watched him over her shoulder, eyes wide, not sure what to make of him.
    What was with these people? Tag wondered. And then he remembered he was an outsider, which would be synwith serial murderer in a little town like this one. He felt something hot on the back of his neck and glanced over his shoulder, thinking they should be more worried about their own citizens. A burly man with bloodshot eyes, a thirty-year growth of beard, and breath like a cesspool stood close enough for Tag to count his nose hairs. Grizzly Adams with an emphasis on grizzly.
    "Phone," he said, his breath hitting Tag full in the face this time.
    "I did a quick and dirty search," Mike was saying. "Alexandra Scott, Boston, blue blood and old money, Uniof Michigan, dual degrees in zoology and some sort of history. Here's an interesting bit of information—"
    "Now," the guy behind him grunted.
    "Gotta go," Tag said to Mike, trying his best not to inthrough his nose when he spoke. He didn't have any problem dealing with a local yokel, but he couldn't talk in front of the guy. And anyway, he'd heard enough to light a fire inside him. After being empty for so long it felt damn good. "I'll call you back when I can."
    Tag relinquished the phone, headed to the diner, bought a thin local paper, and settled in to wait. It was the only restaurant in town, so he figured someone who'd missed a day's worth of meals would have to show up there sooner or later. His reasoning was sound, and lots of people came in, but none of them were Alex. And none of them left. Barely a half hour after he arrived, the place was full, a line of people stretched out the door and curved around the sidewalk in front, and faces were pressed to the big front windows, peering in. At him.
    In a small-town diner like this, breakfast conversation ought to consist of work, the weather, whose cow had strayed into the wrong pasture, and the stranger in town. Those topwere pretty popular, but one by one every conversation eventually made its way around to the Lost Spaniard, and the talk gave Tag a pretty good idea what the sheriff had meant when he said "wait and see."
    No one had the slightest notion where the treasure was, but everyone had a plan to find it. He wasn't shaping up to be the most popular guy in the room, either. It seemed the idea of an outsider finding their treasure made the Castil a bit touchy. By the time Alex showed up at the door he was thinking of her as the only friendly face in the town, even if her expression when she spotted him was a few degrees south of polar.
    Tag gestured to the seat across from him, but she looked around, took her time assuring herself there were no other empty places. Even then she remained reluctant, but he could see the moment when hunger got the better