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everyone he bothered wanted to talk, but Mr. Cooper handled them all smoothly. So drinking didn’t dull all of his brain cells.
    After getting enough background on the traveler, Mr. Cooper looked up the Atlanta Transport Center and found the complicated route he would have to take using public transit. So he must not have a car. Nate confirmed that with a quick check into the DMV.
    Of course. Just like all the other snoops, he’s probably going to try to see the transport center surveillance footage. He won’t get far there
. Nate still held back from bothering his boss with this guy. Nothing out of the ordinary.
    Mr. Cooper sent the MARTA schedule to his QV and shut down his CC, but Nate’s webcam feed stayed alive. The older man stretched. He looked ready to crash right there in his chair.
Boring.
    Nate groaned.
This guy is lame. Another sap looking to make a buck from a missing person’s family
. Nate squirmed in his chair, ready to go home himself. What a waste of time. Nate had seen many amateurs try to connect the dots. Most failed without Nate having to lift a finger.
    When Mr. Cooper left his office, Nate sighed with relief. He could finally clock out, too.
    Just as he stood to pass off his duty to the night shift, another alert beeped and flashed across the top of his imager.
    *** HIGH RISK ALERT *** JONATHAN ANTHONY PHISNER is HIGH RISK! *** Notify immediately any info re: JONATHAN ANTHONY PHISNER! ***
    A new frame popped open with a photo of a thin, skittish man in an overcoat, peeking over a raised collar at a bus camera, a subframe showed a map of his last known location. It happened to be suspiciously close to Walnut Grove.
    What have we here?
Nate raised an eyebrow. He sat back down with a heavy sigh. Checking Mr. Cooper’s contact records, Nate found a voice call originating from a hotel where Mr. Phisner had gotten off his bus. Yesterday.
Figures.
    Now he would have to call his supervisor, Ed Spurlock.
    A full, clean-shaven face appeared on Nate’s imager. Annoyance glared from the cold, gray eyes.
    “What,” Ed barked, looking down his nose at Nate.
    “Sir, we have a red flag.” Nate tried to keep his voice firm and not doubt himself for calling the boss.
    “Oh? In regards to what?” Ed skimmed over a document on the plate in front of him, with a coffee cup in his hand.
    Nate gave his defense, convincing Ed the alert was worth the interruption.
    “A small-time private detective has been researching PTI, the Creator, and the disappearances. I had it under control until the high-risk alert came out for a wanted fugitive, Jonathan Phisner. The fugitive and this detective are in the same vicinity and have been in contact. According to the detective’s searches, I have reason to believe he will be nosing around the Atlanta Transport Center inquiring about missing travelers in the morning.”
    “Really. What’s his name?” Ed lifted his chin.
    Nate shot Ed the bio. He watched Ed glance at Mr. Cooper’s picture and info. Nate summed it up for his boss.
    “Jameson Layton Cooper. Used to be a lawyer. He’s the older brother of Michigan Representative Dawson Cooper and a recovering alcoholic.”
    “That Dawson Cooper is a popular guy. Has lots of friends in high places. We don’t want to get on his bad side. A shame his brother is the black sheep, eh? Keep an eye on him. He’s too remote for any good video surveillance, so track his QV. I’ll let you decide if a satellite focus is necessary. Go ahead and call Blake and Geri and send them to my office. I will have Blake tail our junior detective at the Transport Center in the morning, just in case he decides to cause trouble over there.”
    “Yes, sir.” Nate grinned and got to work.
Finally, a hot case.

    8:00 a.m., Wednesday, July 24
    Geri steadied her aim and emptied a charge. Sending a blue flash across the room, she fried the target dummy’s head, then smiled at her shiny new electrogun.
    “Nice work, Harper. If you’re through, Ed