“Thank you. I’ll tell the others.”
“I’ve already messaged them,” he said.
She gave him a wan smile. “Of course you did. I’ll get my head together. I’m just worried about Matt.”
“And Kara,” he said pointedly.
“Of course,” she said.
She left and Ryder pulled together the rest of his things. He checked his sidearm and extra clips, then secured them in the bag he would check. Though he was an analyst, Matt insisted that he carry while in the field. That meant Ryder qualified at the range just like a sworn agent.
The email from Valdez came in a minute later. Ryder texted the driver that he would be a few minutes, then sat down to watch the footage he’d sent. There wasn’t much to go on. He’d study it more carefully on the plane. But he sent it to his contact at the computer lab with a note that this was the individual suspected of kidnapping Costa and Quinn and asking if he could enhance the video as soon as possible.
They needed a direction. But the best source of information was Garrett Reid, and he had no reason to talk to them. If he spoke, he would be incriminating himself.
But they had to try.
5
Matt slowly regained consciousness. His body felt like he was floating in a sea of molasses, his head heavy. He could hear his own voice shouting from a distance, but his jaw wasn’t moving. It was his mind, ordering himself to wake up, get up, that something was wrong.
“Kara,” he moaned and tried to move. Pain shot through him, jolting him fully awake. “Kara!”
He groaned, every muscle sore and tight as if it hadn’t been used in days. His throat was parched, his mouth dry, his head pounded like the worst hangover he’d ever had.
His training clawed to the surface, every cell screamingdanger! danger! danger!giving him a burst of adrenaline.
“Kara!”
He forced himself to move, then cried out as bruises all over his body made themselves known with stark pain.
He tried to get up and stumbled, fell on his face. He needed to collect his bearings, figure things out.
Slow, Matt. You can’t help Kara if you panic.
First, feel around. The floor was cool against his skin. Smooth, concrete. He felt nothing but the ground. Then he listened. For voices, running water, the noises of a building.
Nothing except his own breathing and pounding heart.
Calm down, he ordered himself.
He took a moment, forcing himself to breathe easier. When his heart rate slowed enough, he focused on his surroundings. Faintly, he heard a distant buzz. Electricity, he thought. But it sounded louder than it should, like a large generator.
Finally, he forced his crusted eyes open through heavy lids.
He saw nothing. The room was pitch-black.
He called out again. “Kara? Kara, are you awake?”
His voice bounced as if he were in a metal room. Not cavernous, but big enough that he hesitated walking without being able to see where he was going.
He pushed himself into a sitting position, felt around and found a wall. Also concrete. He leaned against it, getting his bearings and wishing for light.
Matt touched his body, realized he was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt—what he’d been wearing earlier after the gym. Unfortunately, he didn’t have his gun on him.
“What happened?” he mumbled. “Think, Costa, think.”
His brain was fuzzy, his memories mixed up as he tried to put them in chronological order. The investigation... Reid was arrested Friday morning when he attempted to grab Matt and Kara. Saturday Matt spent the morning and half the day with the joint task force.
