Free Altercation by Tamara Hart Heiner Page B

girls only in the conference room, ten minutes.”
    Jaci and Sara nodded, and Agent Banks left the kitchen.
    “Yeah, something’s up,” Neal said.
    Jaci drummed her fingers on the table. “What do Ricky and Amanda do in your room?”
    Neal quirked an eyebrow at her. “Why do you care?”
    Jaci pursed her lips, annoyed by the question. “I don’t. Just curious.”
    “Ask Ricky, then. And you better get to the conference room.”
    “Yeah,” Jaci sighed. “Let’s go, Sara.”
    Five minutes after Jaci and Sara had settled themselves in the room, Amanda shuffled in, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping against the wall. Agent Banks came in next and closed the door.
    “Okay,” Banks said without preamble, pulling out a chair and sitting himself at the table. He placed a manila file folder in front of him. “There’s been a new development.”
    “Did you find The Hand?” Amanda asked, her eyes widening.
    “No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “But we’ve started setting up a web, and we’re getting word from Canada that The Hand has been too quiet lately. Also, your location is in jeopardy. Until we know how extensive his network is, we can’t trust that you’re still safe here.”
    “In jeopardy?” Amanda echoed. “Oh my gosh! You mean, he knows we’re here?”
    “There is the possibility,” Banks said, his lips tight. His unibrow furrowed down like a caterpillar inching its way to his nose.
    “How?” Jaci gasped. Her mind ticked back to the earlier conversation with him. “Is that why you kept asking me if I’d tried to contact home?”
    “It’s my fault,” Sara said, ducking her head. “I didn’t think there was any risk.”
    Jaci turned to her, stunned. “You?” Sara had been too paranoid on the trek to even let the girls call home, for fear of being intercepted. “What did you do?”
    “She mailed a letter,” Banks said. “From the hotel in Ohio, when you were staying with Agent Reynolds’ family.”
    “I didn’t say where we are,” Sara said. “I just wanted to tell them we’re safe. I didn’t think they could track us.”
    “To make a long story short,” Banks said, “her parents never got the letter. It could’ve been lost in the mail, but we have to assume it was intercepted. In which case, The Hand might be able to track you down. This safe house isn’t far from where your hotel was.”
    “Are we in danger?” Jaci asked.
    Banks shook his head. “Not yet. But we’ve started making plans to move you. Any questions?”
    For a moment no one spoke, and then Amanda asked, “Any updates on The Hand?”
    “We have an investigator looking for him. He’s flying in tomorrow to ask you some questions.” Banks drummed his fingers on the table. “That’s it. I expect we’ll have you moved within forty-eight hours. Oh, and don’t tell the boys just yet.”

October 31, Cincinnati, Ohio
    C arl Hamilton could not fathom why he was jittery. But he was. He clutched his black briefcase and stared out the window as the car wound up the paved drive. Tall deciduous trees blocked the view of the safe house from the road, even though most of the leaves had fallen with the onset of autumn. The FBI agent—Carl couldn’t remember his name—who had met him at the airport hadn’t said more than three words on the half hour drive.
    He looked at his watch and reminded himself that it was two hours later here than in Idaho. His watch said three in the afternoon, which meant here it was five o’clock.
    Carl’s mind drifted home for a moment, and he pictured his wife, Kristin, the way she’d looked when he left. Getting out of the shower, hair damp, pink towel wrapped around her slender figure. She looked great. Most people still thought she was in her late twenties.
    He wished she were with him.
    After all the work he’d put into the case to find these three girls, he felt like he knew them. He knew everything about them. What they looked like, their favorite