If Jules was alive, they had seconds. Literally, every breath of a moment counted. He sank into the deep snow with every stride. The last snowstorm could have covered tracks. The white field reached out ahead of him. Getting to the barn seemed hours away.
Something glinted in the rising sun. Something shiny. Something that didn’t fit on this dingy, rust bucket farm, and adrenaline surged through him.
“Menendez, go after him,” Herring ordered.
Snow packed in the top of Rhys’s boots. The cold stung his shins as he raced for the reflective metal that shouldn’t have been on the barn. “There’s a padlock,” he panted. “On the barn door.”
His heart slammed in his throat. The padlock secured a door pulled across an aisle of no more than ten stalls. It didn’t make sense. There were ways to crawl in and out. The barn leaned. The wood rotted. She could kick her way out. She couldn’t be in there.
“Jules?” He shook the padlock, which was new and attached to recently replaced wood planks. “Jules. You in there?”
Nothing. Just the bitterly cold wind whipping against his face.
Rhys skirted the building. Empty stalls lined the far side. A strong storm might knock the whole thing over. “FBI. Jules Lowry. Show yourself.”
Still nothing but the wind responded.
He entered a stall and crawled up the back wall. Wood slats groaned under his boots. He jumped onto the other side, landing on the dirt floor of a stall. What was left of wood shavings were piled into the corner like the wind had packed them tight before time had eroded them down.
“Jules.” Barn doors were closed on both sides, blocking the wind. It was slightly warmer inside but still impossible temperatures to survive. His eyes adjusted to the dim light as he searched one stall then the next before coming to two small rooms. The faint scent of cedar and musty grass hung in the cold air. He toed open a door and found a dusty tack room. Rhys checked the second one, which held empty feed bags and stairs to a space above the barn. It took seconds to clear the space.
Herring barked orders in his ear.
Rhys ignored him and returned to the stalls. Empty. Empty. Empty—not empty.
The ten-by-ten-foot stall was unlike the others. Hay bales wrapped its perimeter. Wood shavings thickly covered the floor. It smelled like a barn might. Flakes of hay had been separated and strewn over piles of horse blankets. A feed trough in the corner held a thermos and two mugs.
“Jules—” His gaze dropped to the pile of hay again, and his heart lurched. Rhys dropped to his knees in the thick layer of fresh wood shavings. The scent of cedar and musty hay flooded his nose. He tore the hay back, unburying the blanket. He rippedthat away. “Be advised,” he called into his mic. “One female recovered alive. Need medical now.”
Her forearms covered her face. Her small, terrified voice cried, “No.”
She wore a knit hat and a thick jacket. She tried to roll away. Her arms fell back from her pale face. Her chapped lips were tinged blue. And she fucking whimpered.God.She was alive.
“FBI,” he said quietly.
Jules bucked away and covered her face, pleading, “No.”
“You’re okay. I’m going to help. My name’s Rhys. I’m with the FBI. You’re going to be okay.”
The whimpering cry paused. She inched her hands from her face. Fear had been etched onto her famous face. Creases lined her forehead as though she didn’t understand what was in front of her.
“I want to go home,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
“I will get you there. Promise.” He tore off his coat and wrapped it around her chest. She might be wearing a heavy jacket and horse blankets, but it wasn’t nearly enough. “Can you stand up?”
“My foot.”
He eased the horse blanket away. Lengths of rope, like one might use to lead horses, were wrapped around her leg, tying her down. Her boot and pant leg looked like she’d spent hours tugging on the rope. Rhys pulled a knife out and released her.
Voices arrived outside the barn. “The people I work with are here. They’re going to help—”
“No.” She ducked her head behind her forearms again. “I don’t want to see anyone. Don’t let them see me.”
The barn door slid open. Light flooded the aisle behind him.
She buried herself against his chest. “I can’t. Don’t. No.”
“They’re going to help. I promise,” Rhys said.
