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“You okay?” Too soon he pulled away enough to look me over.
I nodded. “You?”
“Yeah.”
I heaved a big sigh, then said, “Jen Scott was an Army explosives specialist,” I said. “Remember that? It was in the first episode.”
“Yeah, and I had an email from my friend in military records. Jen Scott and Paul Quaid served in the same unit at the same time.”
I looked around, spotted my phone and backpack a few feet apart on the slope, and went to get them. Then I returned to Myrtle and sat down beside her. Mason joined us and I showed him the message from Misty.
“Text her back,” he said. “I’ll get help.”
I texted Christy. “We’re ok. Where are you? How did you know?”
But she didn’t reply.
“Try Misty,” he said.
“I cc’d her. Neither of them are responding. Mason, I’m scared. Something’s wrong, something’s really fucking wrong. We have to find them.”
He called Jeremy on speaker, and Jere picked up on the first ring.
“Thank God,” I said.
Mason said, “Jere, we think someone took Christy from the house.”
“Jesus,” he said. “Misty left while I was in the shower. Said her sister needed her, so I assumed she was there with you.”
“We think they’re at the club. We’re on the road to it, a mile and half out.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“We’re fine, Jeremy,” Mason said, “But someone blew up our car. We’re stranded on the roadside.”
“What the— I’ll pick you up.”
“No, go straight to the club,” I said. “We called the state police first, and I can already hear sirens. Don’t stop for us, in case we get hung up with them.”
“Phone-finder says they were both at the club before Misty’s phone went offline,” Mason added. “We’ll meet you there.”
“On my way,” he said.
With Myrtle at my feet, I waved my arms at the police car. There were two others behind it, and an ambulance to boot. When a cop called in, there was a response. Badge out, Mason went up to the first cop who arrived.
“Detective Brown! Holy, hell,” said the officer, holding out a hand. “Sergeant Jarrod Kenner.”
“Sergeant Kenner.” Mason shook, but the cop was looking toward the still blazing car.
“How the hell did you survive?”
“Somebody tipped us off,” Mason said, “and she might be in danger. We can’t reach her.”
“You know where she is?”
“Yes, but we need a ride.”
Kenner led them to the second car that had stopped, with its driver still behind the wheel, though his door was open. “Asher you’re in charge of the scene,” Sergeant Kenner said, then he turned to Mason. “Anything else?”
