THE THOUSAND DOLLAR CONNECTION: A Colt Ryder Thriller by J.T. Brannan

Author:J.T. Brannan [Brannan, J.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grey Arrow Publishing
Published: 2024-07-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

When I turned onto Elnora Street, the first thing I saw was two men walking toward the Camry from the house.

Healey and Freeman.

Damn, I was just a little too late.

My plan was to have done a drive past to check the area and verify that Healey’s car was there, and then – if it was – to park up and stroll back toward it with Kane, just a man and his dog out for a late night walk.

But the situation was now different, and I would have to improvise on the fly.

I decided to follow them physically again, see where they were going. Maybe I could plant the bugs when they stopped?

I cruised on up the street and hooked a left at the top, and then another to bring me back down a parallel street; the Camry was going past me on the main road when I arrived, and I pulled out after them, hoping they wouldn’t spot me this time. But I was in a completely different vehicle, and with my headlamps on, there was no way they would be able to see my face.

I had to at least try it anyway.

I was even more cautious than I had been the night before, now that I knew they were capable of recognizing a tail.

After a few miles though, I thought I had a good idea of where they were headed; and before I was forced to pull up behind them at another set of lights and repeat the disaster of the previous night, I took a right turn and followed a different route. It was a risk and I knew I might lose them, but with small neighborhood streets coming up, I thought that continuing to follow them was an even bigger risk.

And so I followed a route through Chevy Chase and then directly south down toward the luxurious enclave of Woodland-Normanstone, which is where I figured the pair were headed. I drove fast, hoping to beat them there.

I finally saw the large house up ahead, separated by the other equally palatial neighbors by large, well-tended lots. Some of these places had turning circles on their driveways with fountains in the middle, and the home of Richard Atkinson, National Committee Vice Chair, was one of them. I’d made a note of the man’s home address when I’d researched him earlier in the day, and when I’d seen the route the Camry had been headed on, I’d put two and two together; now I just had to hope the answer was four.

The road that ran past the house had vehicles parked all along the far side, and I found a space and pulled in.

I didn’t have to wait long, as the Camry turned onto the street just moments after I’d turned my engine off. I watched as it turned into the driveway, and then as Healey and Freeman got out and approached the door. Healey rang the bell, and a few moments later the large door was opened by a small woman who seemed to wear some kind of uniform.

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