Shane grimaces. “If I’d had any idea she planned on questioning a guy she suspected of attempted murder, I’d have intervened.”
“Not your fault.” The words are a growl. Frustrated anger vibrates through me, threatening to spill over. At least my rage is blocking out my desperate panic and ragged fear.
The sensation of lapping waves washes over me again. I take a deep breath. “We can figure out the details later. Right now, let’s focus on finding where he might have taken her.” I shift my attention to Sadie. “Get me every known location we have on the guy.”
She rises from the chair, nodding. “On it.”
As she leaves the room, I look at Ryder. “Is Harold on duty?”
The kid is still green, but he’s perfect for what I have in mind. I trust him not to be a hothead or do something heroically stupid, and he’s the poster child for wholesome, nonthreatening innocence. He looks like every bumbling, out-of-his-league cliché of a small-town cop come to life. Which makes him exactly the kind of person you’d believe would randomly knock on your door.
“Yeah, what are you thinking?” Ryder asks.
“We have to check out Decker’s locations, but if we happen to find him there and we go in guns blazing, he’s going to get reckless. The last thing we need is a hostage situation. In a standoff, Jessica would be in too much danger. Which is where Harold comes in. Send him out with a story about a service outage. If Decker answers the door, Harold can deliver the same story to houses down the block to make it more believable. It’s a long shot, but a place to start.”
“Meanwhile, we can focus on looking for her.” Lines bracket Ryder’s mouth. He’s just as worried about his sister as I am.
“She’s not there,” Sam says from the corner.
We all look at him in question.
When he doesn’t elaborate, I say, “Probably not, but we have to check.”
Sam zones out, looking past us to whatever it is he taps into before saying, “She’s somewhere quiet. She’s like a disturbance in the stillness.”
Isn’t she always?
This isn’t narrowing it down; it’s only making things fucking muddier. I remind myself to be patient. Information from Sam comes in its own time. “Anything else?”
He tilts back in his chair, raising the front legs and rocking a bit before saying, “Seems like there’s a trail to find.”
That’s…frustrating as shit. “Like a money trail? Something else?”
He shrugs again. “Hard to say.”
“What other kinds of trails are there? Money trails. Hiking trails. River trails. Hunting trails. Anything?” The desire to start breaking shit storms over me, and I push it all aside. I’ve compartmentalized my emotions my entire life. I can’t fail when I most need the skill.
Across from me, Sam’s expression is strained. “Maybe. It’s hard to explain… I see her at the end of a trail.”
I can feel my frustrated impotence beating away at me.
Another wave laps over me.
My agitation calms. I look at Ryder and address the real worry sitting in the corner of my mind. “To find out what we need to know about this guy, we’re talking hours through official channels.”
“Yeah.” Ryder’s voice is hard.
“We can’t wait hours.” The words sound flat, in direct contrast to the riot of fear and desperation roiling inside me.
“Want me to call Buchanan?” Shane picks up his phone. “I’ll take care of the tab.”
Logan Buchanan is a friend of Shane’s who owns a successful and very expensive private security firm. Shane uses him for background checks and company business, but he comes in handy for special projects.
It’s not even a question. I will take any measure necessary to find her. “Make the call.”
Shane presses a number, putting the ringing cell on speaker.
Thirty seconds later, Logan answers with a deep, gruff, “Hey.”
