“What will that prove?” Kendra voice was strained, frantic. “Don’t do it, Colby!”

Colby didn’t acknowledge her outburst.

He paused, raised his knife, and stabbed Stokes in the stomach.

Stokes screamed.

Then, as the detective gasped and wheezed with pain, Colby stepped out of the frame.

Kendra stared at the screen, stunned and horrified at what she had just seen.

Then she picked up her phone. “Sam, you saw that?” She had to steady her voice. “He meant it. You have to find him. Stokes will die if you don’t.”

“No pressure,” he said hoarsely.

“Of course there’s pressure. Do you think I want to put you in that position? If I could do it myself, I would. But it’s you, and I can’t help—”

“It’s okay,” Sam interrupted. “I’ve done some of my most brilliant work under unbelievable pressure. I’ll just see that this is one of those times.”

Good. Stokes needed Sam’s hubris right now. It might be his only chance.

Beth cut in, “Sam just tossed me the phone. Literally. He’s working like crazy. I never thought fingers could move across a keyboard that fast.”

“Any luck?”

“Some. He traced the data stream to one relay center, and he’s working on another.”

“And you did say Griffin is clued in.”

“Yes, Sam was in touch while you were talking to Colby. I think the entire FBI office is watching that feed. SDPD, too.”

“Good.”

FBI Field Office

San Diego

GRIFFIN STEPPED OUTSIDE HIS office, where the agents and support personnel were standing around the television monitors. They had just watched Colby plunge his knife into Stokes. The bleeding, shirtless detective was now having difficulty breathing.

The agents slowly turned toward Griffin and away from that hideous picture.

“Stop just standing there. If one more person looks at me with that dumb look on their face, they’re fired. You saw it with your own eyes. Eric Colby is alive.”

Special Agent Roland Metcalf practically sprinted from his cubicle. He definitely did not have a dumb look on his face. “Who’s the hostage?”

“Martin Stokes, SDPD Homicide. He was working the marina murder.” Griffin spoke to the other agents as they gathered around. “I’ve just mobilized the Critical Incident Response Group. We may have a fix on his location within minutes, but we can’t count on that. Your analysis of this video must begin now. You heard him. Colby has threatened to murder Stokes within the hour.”

Metcalf shook his head, and said slowly, “Then Kendra Michaels was right.”

“I’ve been close to believing that ever since she produced those trophies. Now there’s no doubt. Metcalf, I need you to organize backup for the CIRG team. If we get the word, we’ll need to fly out of here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Griffin and Metcalf had just begun to coordinate duty assignments when a hush fell over the room.

They turned to see that Colby had stepped back on-screen, still brandishing his large knife. He spoke to the camera. “Fifty-five minutes.”

He jabbed Stokes’s left side with the knife, and blood spurted as he withdrew it.

CHAPTER 12

SHEER RAGE COURSED THROUGH KENDRA’S veins as she watched Colby’s self-satisfied expression on-screen. Stokes writhed in pain, almost appearing to pass out at one point.

She turned from her tablet and activated the speakerphone function. She was hurriedly pulling on her leather jacket.

“Tell me that you have something for me, Sam.”

“Just a few more seconds…”

“Stokes is running out of time.”

“Colby has run through three different relay centers, and one of them is particularly good at safeguarding its clients’ privacy.”

“How good?”

Kendra heard a barrage of rapid-fire keyboard clicks, then nothing.

“Sam?”

“Not good enough. I just got it. It comes back to a local IP address, right here in San Diego.”

“Where?”

Sam cursed. “It’s a customer of a small Internet provider on the east side, Rocketstream.”

“Do you have a street address?”

“It doesn’t work that way. Only Rocketstream knows which IP address is being used by which customers. They happen to be one of the providers who won’t release that information without a court order. Normally, I’d commend them for that, but now I—”

“Court order. Surely, considering the circumstances, they’d be willing to—”

“We don’t have time to find out. By the time someone talks to a supervisor and supervisor’s supervisor, it could be too late for Stokes.” More clicking computer keys. “Their service area is in the Adams North neighborhood. “Get the police, your FBI buddies, the cavalry, anyone you can find, and get them over there. I’m going to break about half a dozen laws and hack into Rocketstream’s customer database.”

“How long will that take?”

“By the time you and the cavalry get over there, hopefully I’ll have an address for you.” More rapid clicks of the keys. “Go!”

North Mountain View Drive

San Diego

AS KENDRA TURNED ONTO the street that ran alongside Mountain View Park, she spotted the two brown vans that transported the FBI Critical Issue Response Group. A dozen squad cars were also on the scene, flashers on, and obviously awaiting orders.

As she was doing, she thought desperately.

Come on, Sam …

Griffin was standing out in the street, coordinating with the San Diego PD SWAT team commander. Kendra skidded to a stop and jumped out of her car.

Griffin moved toward her. “Still waiting for that address.”

“From your end or mine?”

“Officially, mine. Your source was right, Rocketstream Internet is requiring a court order. But if you can provide the street address while we work on that, I won’t worry too much about how you obtained it.”

Kendra held up her phone. “I have an open line to Sam Zackoff. So far he—”

“I’m going to forget I heard that name, just in case he’s now doing something terribly illegal. But I did appreciate his forwarding me the feed that Colby is sending out.”

“He’s forwarding it from my laptop.” She added bitterly, “It’s a gift from Colby. You know, the man no one believed was still alive.”

“They believe it now. And, trust me, this has already changed how a lot of people think of you.”

“I don’t give a damn about that. I just want to get Stokes back. What’s his status?”

Griffin cocked his head over at one of the squad cars, where several detectives had gathered around an iPad.

“That sicko is appearing every five minutes like clockwork to stick him with that hunting knife. Stokes is hanging on, though. He’s one tough hombre.”

Griffin turned and strode away to speak to the members of his critical-response team.

Kendra grabbed the tablet computer from her car’s seat and adjusted the brightness to compensate for the outdoor viewing conditions. She looked at Colby’s horror show, and her shaking hands tightened on the tablet. Stokes was tough, but he was now a bloody mess and obviously weaker than he’d been only a few minutes before.

Hang on, Stokes …

We’re trying so hard.

His mouth twitched. He appeared to be trying to say something.

She reached into her console and pulled out a pair of earphones. She stuffed the rubber tips into her ears and plugged them into her tablet.

The audio feed to Stokes was clearly open. She could hear his jagged breathing and his body shifting on the table, and what sounded like the occasional rumbling of traffic outside. But Stokes had clearly given up on trying to speak.

It wasn’t happening. He looked as if it was taking everything he had just to remain conscious.

Damn you, Colby.