Reckoning for the Dead by Jordan Dane

covered all my contacts, locals and otherwise. I’ve come up dry so far. If anyone knows anything, they’re not talking. Something’s up. I can feel it.” As the traffic light changed ahead, she found a quieter spot away from the crowd. “How about you? You got anything?”
    â€œYeah, maybe. I’ve got a lead, but you’re not gonna like it.”
    â€œWhy?” Her voice edged with worry. “What did you find out?”
    â€œA guy in Logistics told me Garrett had taken a small team on a mission, but he can’t find any record of it. Whatever he had seen is gone now. And there’s no trace of the cover-up either. He’s working from memory.”
    â€œAnd how good is that? Can we trust this guy?”
    â€œI trust him, but I’m also looking for confirmation. Give me a little time. If there’s something out there, I’ll find it,” Tanya said. “My contact thinks Garrett was working off book, something I haven’t seen him do before. And according to my guy, no one knows anything about it, not even those who should. It’s really strange, Alexa. It’s like he’s dropped off the planet, and no one is talking.”
    â€œSo did your contact have the names, the guys he took on his team?”
    â€œNot yet, but he’s working up a list of operatives who are AWOL without a specific assignment. A process of elimination. He’ll call me later with that intel. It’s the best we can do without more to go on. What are you thinking?”
    â€œGarrett is too cagey to leave a trail, but maybe someone on his team wasn’t so careful.” Before Tanya could respond, Alexa heaved a sigh. “The thing is, why would he do anything without you knowing about it, Tanya? What could be so damned important to break protocol?”
    â€œGood question, honey. I wish I knew.” Tanya commiserated with her in silence before she said, “There’s something else I have to tell you. I got a call five minutes ago. And you’re not gonna like this either.”
    Tanya had mastered the art of the understatement. If she was concerned, that meant things were usually far worse.
    â€œWhat’s up, Tanya? Spill it.”
    Alexa shut her eyes, feeling a headache coming on. Her brownstone apartment was a few blocks away. She’d be home soon and could use the second wind that a long hot shower could deliver.
    â€œDonovan Cross is looking for you. He wouldn’t tell me what it was about, but I don’t like it.”
    â€œWhy didn’t he call my cell?”
    â€œHe strikes me as someone who’d rather come at you sideways rather than head-on, like one of those sidewinder snakes.” Tanya was spot-on with her analogy. “What do you want me to tell him?”
    â€œIf I was a suspicious person, I’d say he’s working you to get to me. I don’t trust him.”
    â€œYou got that right. As far as I’m concerned, the jury is still out on Cross. I don’t trust him either,” Tanya said. “So what do you want me to do?”
    â€œStall him for now. Tell him you can’t reach me. That’ll give me time to get really lost, but I’ll need you to be my eyes and ears. And when you find a lead on Garrett’s last-known location, I’ll need a way to get there. I’ll call you when it’s safe.”
    â€œYou got it.”
    When Tanya ended the call, Alexa made up her mind to avoid her apartment and rely on her instincts to work off the grid. No one could know what she was doing. No one, not even Tanya. She didn’t make such a decision lightly. There was risk in what she planned to do, but she’d already set up for such a contingency. Most covert operatives had a similar backup plan, out of necessity.
    Heading west, she walked across the street, tossed her cell into a trash bin, and took the first step to sever ties to her life. An operative always had a fallback