The weight of the clock pressed against her chest.
One call—one person—could save her life. Or end it.
26
Lights glowed from the lighthouse, spilling onto the pristine sand. Burke scanned the area. Mounds of sand. Moonlight glistening on the water rolling in and out on frothy waves. Pure solitude.
And no sign of Abby’s team. Unless the cargo van on the side of the road belonged to them.
One way to find out. He slammed on the brakes and skidded into place behind the van, his tires spitting sand.
He fought the urge to make a fast dash from his cruiser to Abby. Shaw had most likely stashed her in the lighthouse with lights burning through the windows. He forced himself to cool down, pick up his radio, and call in the van’s plates.
He waited for dispatch to respond to his request, his legs and hands jittery as each second passed. Each of his heartbeats stabbed like a hammer blow, fast, hard, relentless.
He was ready to jump out of his skin. Finally his radio squawked. He listened carefully, then bolted from the vehicle. The plates had come back as a rental. So not the team. Likely belonged to Shaw. Likely the person who’d abducted Abby.
He fixed his focus ahead. Nothing to hide behind, just an open beach between him and the lighthouse. On the bright side, he could go straight to the building. A slower evasive route wouldn’t help in this situation.
He charged down the bank toward the structure.
I’m almost there, sweetheart. Almost. Hang in there.
He slowed as he approached the open doorway. Drawing his sidearm, he glanced inside. One big room. Empty. Not totally. A crumpled body lay on the far side next to a cardboard box.
His legs threatened to give in.
From the doorway, he took a good look at the figure. No. Not Abby. Too big to be her.
Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!
He approached the body. Shaw! It was Shaw with a bullet wound to the chest.
Someone had killed him, but who? More importantly, if he were dead, who had Abby?
Voices drifted up from a stairwell on the other side of the room. He silently made his way over. Listened.
Abby was talking. Asking for help in getting Estelle Lemoine’s passport cleared so she could leave for Paris today.
Stunned, he took a step back. Estelle was alive, and Abby was trying to help her.
A creak of the floorboards sounded behind him.
He spun. Lifted his weapon. Aimed. Prepared to shoot.
Gabe stepped into the room.
Burke let out a long breath. Crossing the room, he held a finger to his mouth to warn Gabe to be quiet. “Keep it down. I’m not sure if Abby’s in trouble yet, but she’s in the basement.”
Gabe jerked a thumb at the body. “That Shaw over there?”
Burke nodded. “It was probably his blood on the antique shop door, not Abby’s. She’s talking to someone about helping Estelle Lemoine get back to France tonight.”
Gabe blinked hard. “Estelle? So she’s not dead.”
“Apparently not. I’m wondering if she killed Shaw and brought Abby here. Sounds like Estelle is having a problem with her passport and isn’t able to leave the country.”
“And she’s making Abby fix the problem. Probably at gunpoint.”
