When Everett reaches out to open the trunk of the Crown Vic, I notice it isn’t latched.
“Shit,” he hisses behind me, when the lid comes up easily.
My knees buckle with relief.
The large baggage space is empty.
Tessa
“Quiet.”
Remi nods, his eyes wide with fear as he shivers against the cold.
Not much I can do about that right now.
I got here first, bypassing the storage place along the highway.Ignoring not only Mancuso’s instructions, but every little bit of law enforcement training I’ve ever had, I turned right up the driveway, stopping in front of the small building where I saw Clem’s truck parked.
No one came out, no one seemed to be around at all, so I grabbed my weapon and went to explore on foot.I could barely resist yelling out his or Clem’s name, but I couldn’t risk drawing attention and potentially making an easy target of myself.I had no way of knowing how close Mancuso was with his team, because I lost my connection to them partway through the mountains, so for the moment I was the only one coming to their rescue.
Luckily, the junkyard provides enough cover to mostly stay out of sight.I still had to move quietly, making sure I didn’t walk on something or bang into something that would make noise.Because the sound would carry in the eerie silence.
I heard the crunch of feet on gravel first and ducked behind a rusted vehicle, getting low to the ground as I poked my head around the broken taillight.My heart almost leaped out of my chest when I spotted my son, his hands tied behind his back as, about twenty yards down, he awkwardly tried to duck into the same row of vehicles I was moving along.
Slower than I wanted to, I closed in behind him, hoping I could keep him from making a sound.At the last moment he must’ve sensed me, because he started to turn, just as I slipped my arm around him and covered his mouth.
Now, I press a finger from my free hand to my lips to enforce my whispered order, as I slowly release him.The next moment he leans into me and shoves his face in my neck.I softly shush him, rubbing a hand over his back as I reach for the multitool I always carry on me when on duty.Then I kiss his forehead and motion for him to turn so I can cut off the zip ties that must be cutting off his circulation.
“They have Clem,”he mouths.
I immediately feel guilty for being relieved I have my child in one piece.
“Where?”
“I can show you.”
I shake my head sharply.No way in hell I’m letting him.
“You’re staying right here.Hear me?”I whisper in a soft voice.
He nods and points to where he came from.
“Two rows over.See that crusher?”He mimics my low volume.
I see the top of what looks like a large steel frame with hydraulic posts on either side, about the size of a truck trailer, maybe a bit taller.A machine that can easily crush thousands of pounds of steel.The implications hit me like a wave of icy cold water.
“Don’t move,” I remind him, taking his face in my hands and locking my eyes on his, before adding, “Please.”
I wait for his brief, acknowledging nod, and then I’m off, ducking low as I dart across the narrow path bisecting the rows of vehicles.
Then I hear yelling.
“Pa!The kid’s gone!”
“Well, dangit, boy!Go find him!”
Aiming for the voices, I make sure to stay covered while I try and get eyes on them.The first thing I see is Clem, his head down as he throws himself into the midsection of a large man, easily half a foot taller.In part, I’m sure, by surprise, the guy teeters back and seems to catch something with a foot, tripping him up.He hits the ground hard, Clem sprawled on top of him.
That’s when I notice the old man approach them, a cane in one hand and a gun in the other, aimed at Clem’s head.
