Page 75 of Her Forever SEAL

“She usually does,” Clint said, and even through the speaker Mason could hear the pride in it.

Lydia didn't look up from her screen. But he saw a small smile form for just a quick moment.

“So he's in LA,” Mason said. “How long has he been in the country?”

“This trip? Three weeks. But he's been in and out for months. He was here when the Mary operation was being built.” Clint paused. “For Bree. For Kayla. He wants to be up close and personal.”

“So what makes you think he’s in LA?”

“Well, that’s where he’s registered. Beverly Hills Hilton.”

“Can we prove any of this?” Rylie asked.

“Not in a way that gets him arrested,” Clint said. “Not yet. Diplomatic immunity makes him untouchable through normal channels, and everything that ties him to Boko Haram is buried under twelve years of very clean money.”

“So, what do we do?” Sophia asked. She looked at Mason when she said it.

Everyone did.

Mason looked at the map. At Los Angeles. At the corridor marked in red on the Fifteen, running north out of San Diego.

“We find Kayla first,” he said. “Then we deal with Sula.”

The news came from Rylie first.

She didn't build to it. That wasn't Rylie. She just looked up from her laptop and said, “They found the van. It was empty.”

Mason went still.

“Temecula. Park-and-ride off the Fifteen.” She paused. “It's been processed. There's blood inside. Not a lot, but some. Tracks with the head wound people noted at the scene.” Another pause, shorter. “And a cleat.”

The room went quiet.

Then Sophia made a sound that wasn't quite a word. Her hand came up and pressed flat against her sternum, and Mason crossed the room and put both hands on her shoulders from behind and held on. She reached up and gripped his forearms with both hands and didn't say anything. Neither did he.

A cleat.

He knew exactly which ones. Royal blue and Kelly green, the school colors. She'd had them since the beginning of the season and she'd complained twice that they were rubbing her left heel and he'd told her to break them in and she'd rolled her eyes at him.

He pressed his jaw tight.

One thing at a time.

“Caltrans cameras?” Lydia asked.

“That's the problem. The park-and-ride has one camera covering the entrance and it was angled wrong. The FBI has the van on the Fifteen as far north as Murrieta, then they lose it when it exits. They don't know what they switched to. They're going back through every frame of Caltrans footage in a fifteen-mile radius trying to pick up a thread, but without knowing what vehicle they're looking for—” Rylie shook her head. “They're drowning in it.”

“How many cars pass through those cameras in an hour?” Sophia asked.

“On the Fifteen at that time of day? Thousands. Tens of thousands.”

Sophia exhaled slowly. Her hands were still on his forearms. He could feel her steadying herself through the contact.

He was trying to do the same thing.

He was still holding onto that when Angie's phone rang.

She looked at the screen. Something shifted in her face. She held up one finger to the room and answered.