“Anyone ever find the man’s wife?”
“No. The mom filed a missing persons report but nothing has come of it.”
The turbulence in the air dropped the plane a few feet, and kept Blake in his leather seat. “Major Blayney should know about Raven…right?”
“Should. But I doubt he’d say anything to you.”
“It’s a start. Hell, it’s the only lead we have.”
“Call me when you land.”
Blake hung up, more worried than ever.
Chapter Thirty-One
Rick moved in from the south, Neil took the north.
The rain fell in steady sheets, adding to the misery of the situation. Their advance on their enemy moved too quickly. So much so, Neil questioned it.
“Hold back,” he instructed Rick.
“Feels too easy.”
“Right.” He loved the fact that he and Rick had always read the other’s thoughts.
“There’s no way out for him. Not without going through one of us.”
Neil looked behind him for the thousandth time. “Think he’s working with someone else?”
“Haven’t seen anyone else.”
Neither had Neil. Pivoting, he checked behind him.
Nothing.
The rain around him hit the forest floor with a force that made a constant sound against everything around him. Having spent a large portion of his life in California, he enjoyed the rain when it came…just not today.
“Assume someone else is out here.”
“Good plan,” Rick murmured.
Or Raven had a trick up his ass. They encroached on the cliff with caution.
Neil’s fingers cooled with the dropping temperatures. He lowered his weapon to the ground and stopped long enough to look behind him. His eyes landed on something purple on the ground. He shifted toward the object, noticed something like it in a yellow color. Peering closer he noticed candy. He turned away, thinking at first that someone had left it on the path long before now.
He hesitated.
Candy? Who did he know that ate the stuff…the small bits easily tucked into a pocket?
The chopper was ten miles from their destination.
Someone had covered Linden’s body with an army green blanket, covering his face. Rick held on to one of the straps in the wall and stared blankly out the open door. Billy hung his head in his hands.
Mickey reached into his pocket, removed his ever-ready candy, and popped a few pieces into his mouth. Even through the pain of his injury he managed to live up to his name. Mickey Mouse…land of big ears and kid candy.
Neil dropped back. His insides curled onto him.
Mickey.
Why?
“Rick…stop.”
A few moments passed. “What?”
“Drop back.”
“He’s right there.”
Neil swallowed. “I know who it is.”
I know who it f**king is.
Gwen rolled onto her back, her hands behind her.
The door at the top of the stairs closed with a resounding click. She knew if she made it up the stairs without falling, she’d find the door locked.
The cloth in her mouth cut into her cheeks and dried her mouth out instantly. A dry mouth was the least of her worries.
Her heart beat so fast and hard in her chest it threatened to explode. Charles was directing their enemy. All her reservations about the man were spot-on. Not that being right was doing her any good now.
Gwen twisted her hands in the cuffs a few times even though intellectually she knew getting them off without a key was futile. Didn’t stop her from trying. As the adrenaline started to wane, fear took its place. The dingy basement didn’t bother her as much as it could, but the realization that there was only one way out did. When she felt her eyes start to fill with moisture, she struggled against the handcuffs again, and felt the metal bite into her skin. With the pain, her tears dried up. She would not pity herself and fall further victim to her captor. He’d love nothing more than to return to the basement and find her helpless and crying.
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. All his talk about what women were good for, and what they weren’t, told her how much he underestimated her gender.
He’d left the light on, giving her the ability to see what might be hiding in the corners of the room that might aid her. She stood and moved around the room. Above her head were pipes and wiring running the length of the room. There was a water heater in one corner and what looked to be a fuse box close by. Sadly, she’d never had a need to open an electrical box in her life and could only identify it because of some of the television shows she’d watched in the past. With her hands behind her back, she couldn’t reach the thing anyway.
There were boxes piled on one wall about three deep. Several were labeled Christmas, and a few more had the name Annie scribbled on top. Gwen kicked at a box that wasn’t labeled. When the box hardly moved, she pushed her knee into it.
Heavy.
With a little effort, she twisted her hands to the box and used her fingertips to pry open the cardboard.
Books. Looks like I found Ruth’s library.
She couldn’t imagine books doing her a lot of good. Perhaps if her hands were free she could throw them at Charles, but that wasn’t an option in her current state.
Gwen turned toward the boxes with Annie’s name on them. Inside one box was what looked like a gallery of children’s artwork. The kind a child would bring home from primary school and litter the refrigerator with. Gwen easily pushed one box off of the other and opened another one. This one held items from an earlier time. Plush toys, a baby blanket. Nothing useful.