Missing Lynx Read Online Free PDF Page A

he’s got or have the connections to fence them.”
    “Most people would sit on them, or take them to South America somewhere.” I lay the photo down.
    Deep shook his head. “We’re confident this guy’s going to dump and run. We’ve brought in everything: pictures, files, tapes. We’re hoping you can make some connections and make them fast.” Deep came from Long Island and his accent was lightly flavored by his Italian background. Built on a smaller frame than Striker and Jack, he stood maybe six feet? Hard muscled, without the bulk, he had the kind of smile that could melt a girl’s heart and will power.
    “Hmm.” I rubbed at my lower lip with my index finger. “The fast part’s going to depend on the quality of the information, but I’ll give it my best shot.”
    “That’s what we need from you, Lynx,” Deep pulled out a chair to my right and sat down. His chocolate brown eyes lost their usual mirth as he focused.
    I sorted through the stack of evidence. I asked questions as I went. The men maintained perfect silence, until I spoke to them — a pattern we quickly fell into once I joined the team. Puzzling for me was a meditative and often intuitive progression. If something pulled me out of my thought process, I might lose the tiny thread of understanding I had started to spin and weave.
    “This is everything?” I glanced up from the empty box.
    “Unfortunately.” Deep moved the box under the table.
    “Okay, I’d better get to work.”
    “What can we do to help?” Jack stood — feet wide, arms crossed over his chest. I had to smile. Standing that way, he looked like a prototype for a Marvel Comics hero.
    “I missed breakfast. Could someone call down to the cafeteria for an egg and cheese sandwich and put a pot of coffee on? I’d really appreciate it.” I stood with a file held up in each hand. “And can someone help me with computer searches? That might speed things up a bit.”
    “That would be me.” Deep rolled over to sit behind my monitor, shook out his hands like a concert pianist preparing for a performance, and booted up.
    I pushed my sleeves up to my elbows. As the conversations played on the recorder, I leafed through police reports and case notes. 
    Food showed up. Gater took my dogs out and brought them back. Without a window in my office, it was easy to lose the concept of time – not that it mattered. Immediate threat meant immediate action. No rest for the weary.
     
    Striker came in and looked over my shoulder at the lists printed neatly in different colored pens on my whiteboard.
    “Still working?” He moved around me to rest his knuckles on the table, reading the board. “Where’s Deep?”
    “I sent him home around three this morning.” I yawned loudly and stretched. “I didn’t need any more computer support. I’m reviewing, but it’s a little bit like throwing a dart blindfolded. Honestly, there’s not much here.” I shoved the files to the side and rested a hip on the table. I gestured toward my whiteboard. “I’ve narrowed my guesses down to these four strategies. If Command is serious about making this capture, and money’s not a problem, I’d put a team on each of these scenarios. If I had funding and man power for a single shot, this would be my door number one.” I pointed to the list written in green marker. “It’s all speculative though. A lot of the records I need are classified with the client, so they’re not even in-house. What data we’ve got is weak.”
    “Understood. What are these addresses? What is Slaybourgh Jewelers?” Striker read down the list.
    “The first address is for a Jamal Omondas. Does his name mean anything to you?”
    “Nada,” Striker turned as Jack came through my door.
    “I think he might be the guy with the diamonds in his pocket. Slaybourgh Jewelers is my best guess for where he might try to unload them fast. Jessup Slaybourgh and Jamal Omondas have a long, reckless history.” I sat down and laid my