Lupi 09 - Mortal Ties

in LT250, along with their addresses of record and
     driver’s license numbers. That was on a database. Upon being served with the warrant,
     the bank had produced a list of every transaction in the last two days.
That
was a paper list. A very long paper list. It was a busy branch. Rule had gotten a
     second list from the bank, too—also on paper, but much shorter. That one contained
     only those transactions involving accounts that had been opened since the sidhe delegation
     arrived two weeks ago.
    They’d been able to eliminate those account holders quickly. No matches. Not even
     any near misses.
    Rule was operating on the assumption the elves had had help acquiring false identities,
     bank accounts, and renting a condo or house or apartment under their fake IDs. That
     help had probably come from Friar. They might have been in touch with him well ahead
     of their arrival. It was also possible one or more of them had been here much longer
     than two weeks. A few sidhe could cross between realms without a gate. Most of those
     with that skill were lords, according to Cullen. Most, but not all. Arjenie’s father
     was able to cross realms.
    So they would check older accounts as well. Robert Friar had been recruited by
her
six years ago, so Rule eliminated accounts more than six years old. That still left
     them with a very long list.
    The data from DPS had been easy enough to import into the Bureau’s computers. They’d
     tried scanning in the bank’s list, then importing the scanned data. It hadn’t worked.
     Scanning introduced too many errors. So they were doing it the old-fashioned way,
     comparing the two lists visually, looking for matches on the names, addresses, or
     driver’s license numbers.
    Cullen was still searching. His copter had refueled twice—and had been detained at
     the airport the secondtime. The pilot had to fly so low for Cullen to see the kind of detail he needed that
     they were breaking some law or another. Rule had applied to Ruben for help, and the
     airport had released pilot, copter, and Cullen. They were back up again.
    Laban was still searching, too, on the ground. They hadn’t found any more traces of
     elves. It was a big damn haystack.
    If “LT250” wasn’t a partial license plate number, they were wasting an enormous amount
     of time. Time Lily couldn’t afford. Dammit, dammit, dammit…carefully Rule relaxed
     the hand he’d tightened into a fist atop his copy of the LT250 license plates. He
     realized he’d scanned most of the current page on autopilot. He could have missed
     something.
    Damn it to hell. He didn’t want to look at lists. Man and wolf, he wanted to
act.
    He made himself take a slow breath, rolled his shoulders to loosen them—and winced.
     His wounded shoulder was not finished healing. Had he been able to sleep to speed
     the process, it would be almost whole again, but—
    “Found something,” Mike said.
    Rule beat Bergman to Mike’s side, but only by a hair. She’d been closer, but still,
     she was fast for a human. “Show me.”
    “Here.” Mike pointed at a line halfway down one sheet, then at another sheet. “Abraham
     Brown. Got it on both sheets. Driver’s license number matches, too.”
    Jasper sat up eagerly. “What is it? What’s the address?”
    “44191 West Crescent,” Bergman said. “Bill, check the map.”
    Jasper slumped. “That’s damn near in the bay.”
    “He’s right.” A dark-haired man—Bill, presumably—had jumped up to look at a large
     map of the city pinned to one wall. “44191 would be right around here.” He tapped
     on the map with one finger.
    Bergman gave Rule a sharp look. “You said she wasn’t near the water.”
    Rule moved up to look at the map. The spot Bill had his finger on was very near the
     bay. It was also west of the hotel. Not all that far from the area where Lily had
     gone looking for Hugo, in fact.
    “A lot of warehouses there,” Bill said. “Good place to stash a hostage. I can find
     out if that address is a warehouse pretty quick.”
    “All right. Yes. Do it.” Rule scrubbed a hand through his hair. Was the match a coincidence?
     It could be. The list of plates ending in LT250 was long, and they were only guessing
     it was a partial plate number.
    Bill did not jump to do what Rule said. He hesitated, looking at his boss.
    “It’s west, not east,” Bergman said. “Either your tip was bad, or we’re looking in
     the wrong direction.”
    Rule had told Bergman the