Deadly Sight. Cindy Dees
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no doubt accurate and damning inferences about her.
Too jumpy to stand those thoughtful looks any longer, she leaped up and cleared the table. While she washed and dried the dishes by hand—apparently dishwashers were off-limits in this wacky place—he gathered the pictures he’d piled together earlier and spread them out across the table.
She dried her hands and approached them.
“Sit beside me,” he ordered absently.
Startled, she sank into the chair he’d pulled up beside his. It brought their ankles, knees, hips, elbows and shoulders into a proximity that threatened to destroy her concentration. Really, she ought to just jump the guy’s bones and get him out of her system so she could work with him. Otherwise, the next few days could be seriously miserable.
Gray filled her in efficiently. “Luke Zimmer’s upbringing was pretty normal. Middle class, Midwest, average home, average income. He ran with a neo-Nazi gang in high school, however, in—” he shuffled through the printed pages “—a suburb of Chicago. But his current political leanings are more antisocial than that.”
“What’s more antisocial than neo-Nazis?” she blurted. She’d hung out with a skinhead or two, and they’d been way too violent for her taste.
Gray continued, “Zimmer moved into this area several months ago, apparently at Jeff’s request.”
“Given that Jeff mentioned a cult leader to both of us, I’m assuming Luke got sent here to infiltrate Proctor’s group on behalf of Winston Enterprises?”
A flicker of something suspiciously like respect passed through Gray’s opaque gaze. “That’s a good guess. Although why Proctor’s a threat to an international conglomerate with no business dealings anywhere near here is a mystery to me.”
“Maybe Luke’s profile can give us a clue into what kind of a person Proctor is, or at least what the orientation of his cult’s stated beliefs is.”
The respect thing flickered again in Gray’s gaze as he replied, “My main impression of Zimmer is that he’s severely paranoid. I did a little reconnaissance on him yesterday, but without electronic equipment, I couldn’t get even remotely close to him. Although I don’t know if his paranoia predates his relationship with Proctor or is possibly a result of it.”
“Enter the girl with eagle eyes.”
He smiled a little at her. “If you can point your eagle eyes at this guy and learn more about him, that could be enormously useful.”
“Does Luke have a job?” she asked.
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“How’s he paying his way, then?” she asked. Even losers had to eat and buy drugs.
“I’m working a little too off-book to just stroll into the local bank and ask.”
“I could hack into the bank’s computers—” she broke off “—but nobody uses computers around here, do they?”
“A few folks actually have them. They have to use hard-wired, buried cable lines, though, and there are no Wi-Fi networks.”
She shrugged. “It probably doesn’t matter, anyway. Guys like Luke work in cash. Leaves less of a trail for the cops to follow. What else do you know about him?”
“He’s twenty-seven years old. Computer science major at Cal Tech. Didn’t graduate, though. Busted a couple of times for pot possession by campus cops. Thirty days in jail and a fine the last time. Nothing remarkable about his family. Two brothers—one older, one younger. He got decent grades in high school, ran about a 2.5 GPA in college. Nothing else shows up on him in the system.”
She doubted she could dig up more than that if she had a computer and internet access at her disposal. He didn’t sound like the kind of guy whose life would leave much of an electronic trail. “Anyone interviewed the family?” she asked.
“I don’t have those kinds of resources at my disposal.”
She frowned. What the heck did that mean? “What can I do to help your investigation?”
“Anything you can see and learn is more than I have to go on now.”
“And who do you work for, exactly?”
He leaned back in his chair. Crossed his arms. Pressed his lips into a thin white line. He even spoke tightly. “At the moment, Jeff Winston.”
He might have dodged her question, but all that body language spoke volumes. He had secrets to keep. “You do realize I have the equivalent of military top-secret clearances or better,” she commented.
He didn’t seem impressed. And he didn’t open his mouth. There were not too many employers in the United States who demanded complete and total silence from their employees. She considered him thoughtfully. He didn’t look like a mercenary for a private security firm. He was too clean-cut for that. Too by-the-book. Government, then.
“Okay, Sparky. I’m going to assume you work for some spooky, secret government agency until you say otherwise. Which begs the question of why you don’t just have your peeps poke around a little and hand you a complete list of names of every known associate of one Luke Zimmer. Order up a little surveillance detail on his cronies, and you’d know what ole Luke’s up to in under a week. I don’t see why Jeff thought you would need my help at all.”
“It’s not that simple. Given our total lack of ability to use electronics in this area, the manpower required to mount the sort of surveillance op that you’re proposing would be prohibitive. Not to mention, people in this region routinely live completely off the grid. They’re nearly impossible to track by any other means than direct visual surveillance. For all I know this kid’s using a fake ID and isn’t going by the name Luke Zimmer at all.”
She nodded. “Fake identities are pretty easy to get.”
“You say that like you have one,” he replied, amused.
She had several, in point of fact. More than a little of her youth had been misspent. But she wasn’t about to admit that to him. “It’s dark enough to go outside and do parlor tricks with Sammie’s eyesight. If you’ll grab something with writing on it, I’ll start jogging down the road.”
“I have a better idea. Let’s put your eyes to work for real,” he suggested.
“What do you have in mind?”
“How about you put on some walking shoes and I’ll show you?”
He definitely came from the government-intelligence community. Those guys always answered a question with a question. Curious, she went to her room and grabbed her neon yellow running shoes. When she came back, Gray was just finishing packing a rucksack.
“Let me guess,” she said dryly. “You were a Boy Scout and you’re taking along a few items in case we get stranded in the woods. With angry bears. In a blizzard. On the side of a cliff. And we need to put on Thanksgiving dinner for a dozen guests.”
He grinned. “I’m not that anal.”
“Had me fooled,” she grumbled under her breath.
“I’m trained to anticipate contingencies and plan for them.”
Oh, yeah. So a spy. When he headed for the passenger side of the Bronco, she rolled her eyes. “Really, Gray. I can get my own doors.”
“Really, Sammie Jo. Aren’t you confident enough to let a man get them for you?”
The quip hurt. She was sure he didn’t intend it, though. How could he know how inadequate she felt around polished, sophisticated people like him? To distract herself, she asked, “How old is this vehicle?”
“It’s a 1972. The first onboard car computers were put out in 1975, so all the cars permanently in the NRQZ have to be ‘74s or earlier.”
“This