The Lost Key (A Brit in the FBI 2)

A handsome young black man with a Mohawk immediately stepped forward. “Allie McGee? She’s not in today. She called in sick.”

“Who’s your manager?”

“I am. Stephen Torres. What’s the problem, ma’am?”

“We need her home address, right now.”

He didn’t move. “Is she in trouble?”

Mike leaned on the counter with both arms. “She’s going to be, if you don’t tell me how to find her.”

One of the baristas said, “I’m Shelley. I’m her best friend. She’s over on Avenue A. One-oh-seven Avenue A, apartment five. She’s probably not there, though, she has school today. She had a huge midterm today, and our work schedule was set last week. I traded shifts with her so she could take her test.” The girl shot her manager a guilty look. “We’re not supposed to trade shifts without getting permission first.”

r /> Mike said, “Nice of you. What school does she go to?”

“NYU. She’s a computer science major.”

“She have a boyfriend?”

The look on Shelley’s face told them the answer to that.

“Does he live with her?” Nicholas asked.

“No, not really. In fact, I haven’t seen Adam in a long time. Allie said he was in California. She doesn’t talk much about him, I don’t know why.”

Mike said, “What’s her phone number? Right now.”

Shelley gave Mike the number.

Torres said, “Hey, Allie’s a good kid. What did she do?”

Mike gave her best scary Fed smile. “Don’t worry about it. Thank you, Shelley, for the info. Now, can I have two grande skinny vanilla lattes and two cinnamon scones? To go.”

“Surely, ma’am. On the house, for New York’s Finest.”

She left a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, aware of the phalanx of eyes on their backs as they walked out. They got in the car and Mike devoured the scone in three bites, Nicholas in two. He wiped his mouth. “That was well played, Special Agent Caine.”

“Thanks. You so owe me a real meal, Nicholas. An apple, a scone, and a latte ain’t gonna cut it.” She brushed the crumbs off her lap, took a deep gulp of the latte, burning her tongue in the process.

“Let’s go to her apartment,” Mike said. “If I were on the run, I’d hide out at my girlfriend’s place. It doesn’t appear that Allie even told her best friend that Adam is a big bad wanted hacker.”

Allie McGee’s apartment was only a few blocks away. Mike checked in with Ben, told him where they were going, told him to be ready for a call if they saw something hinky. “And Ben, find out who owns the lease on this apartment.”

Even though all they wanted to find was a nineteen-year-old boy, she and Nicholas had come prepared, vests, comms on the off chance they ran into trouble. She and Nicholas geared up while Ben ran the property record.

He said, “It’s in the name of Allison McGee. Bought last year, for eight hundred thousand dollars.”

“Pricey place for a kid in school, working at Starbucks on the side. Did her parents fund it?”

She heard tapping. “It was paid for in cash. Full purchase price.”

“Interesting. Have the financials come back on Jonathan Pearce yet?”

Ben said, “As it happens, yes. Pearce is a very wealthy man. Both the son and daughter have healthy trust funds. And lookee here, there was a withdrawal for one million dollars from Adam Pearce’s trust right before the apartment was purchased.”

“Gotcha, thanks, Ben.”

“Call if you need backup. Wait up, here’s Gray.”