Shane said into the phone, wishing he had more to report to his boss. He took a long drag on his cigarette and leaned back in the squeaky desk chair, his gaze idly wandering around Faith’s little office. “The letters have all been postmarked in nearby towns. The call we managed to trace came from a phone booth in Ukiah. We know he’s in the immediate area.”“The sixty-four-thousand-dollar question is: Where?” Banks asked in his typical sardonic tone.“I don’t know,” Shane admitted, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the neatly typed, utterly nasty missive lying on the walnut desk before him. It was the third Faith had received in a week. Tension coiled in his gut. He didn’t like playing a waiting game. He was a hunter by nature. But in this scenario he was relegated to the role of fisherman—waiting for their boy to take the bait so he could reel him in.“How’s our witness holding up?”Shane thought of Faith. She had an inner strength that never failed to amaze him.
