Page 96 of Every Last Breath

“Maddox?” He tore into the bedroom and froze. A pale-green plastic cap like one from a hypodermic needle lay at the foot of her bed.

His stomach pitched. He stepped around her bed. On the carpet near the nightstand was an empty syringe and stun gun.

No, no, no.

“Maddox!” He stormed into the bathroom, flinging the door wide.

A dense bank of steam blanketed the room. He charged through the muggy cloud and wrenched the shower door open.

Empty. The shower was empty.

An achy tightness seized his heart. The world teeter-tottered, flashes of darkness blotting out the light. He grabbed the glass door, steadying himself, and shut off the water.

His gaze fell to her sneakers and jogging clothes piled in the middle of the tile floor. He rushed back into the bedroom, stopping in front of the syringe and stun gun. The air in his lungs turned coarse as sand.

They’d been apart five hours. Five.

This couldn’t be happening. But it was. Fucking Novak. Had to be.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling to think. Shutting his eyes, he cleared his mind. The neighbor mentioned a man had come to collect a charity donation.

Cole had seen a Goodwill van on the street, the back of a tall guy with a sad limp. The early hour was odd, but he’d dismissed the guy, paid no attention because of the limp. And because he’d been fixated on seeing Maddox.

He dashed to the kitchen and grabbed a Ziploc bag. Using a paper towel, he threw the syringe inside. Novak didn’t kill her—he would’ve left her body—but that animal had drugged her with something. He needed to know with what.

He scooped up her things from the kitchen and tossed them into his backpack with trembling hands. Slamming her door shut, he careened down the steps of her building.

The older neighbor lumbered down the outer stairs. She plodded one careful step at a time, lining up both feet, then tackling the next. Her dog ran up to him and sniffed his legs again.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said. “What did the Goodwill guy look like? The one at Maddox’s apartment.”

Her eyebrows raised in contemplation. “Well, um, tall and thin. White. Blond. Eyes like a fox. Crafty, you know. Wore glasses. Herman didn’t like him. That man tried to kick my baby.” She shuffled another step. “Oh, and he had a strange accent, something foreign.”

Fear and fury thickened in his chest and clogged his throat. He jumped on his bike, turned the engine over, sped off.

The Ghost had been at her damn apartment. Somehow found out where she lived. Had touched her a second time. Had taken her right under his nose.

Zipping down the street on his bike, he rode by pure instinct, his gut pulling him to the Gray Box. He clawed through his mind for details he’d disregarded earlier.

White van. Fucking Goodwill had been written on the side. What was the license plate?

X-ray, Lima, Delta. The last three parts of the Washington, DC, plate were XLD.

How had Novak gotten close enough to use the stun gun on her? Maddox would’ve put up a fight, stayed out of reach, but there wasn’t any sign of a struggle in the apartment. Why take her instead of killing her? What was he doing to her right now?

A three-ring circus of terrors spun in his head, and he cranked the turbine-powered bike into overdrive.

At the Gray Box gatehouse, the guard waved him in. Screeching to a stop in front of the main building, Cole killed the engine. He raced up the steps, yanking off his helmet, and burst through the front door, setting off the metal detector.

Two guards behind the front desk took a defensive stance, eyes narrowing to slits. One guard raised a hand of warning. The other reached for something under the counter. Most likely a gun. “I’m going to have to ask you to stay where you are, sir. Please raise your hands.”

Cole marched toward the desk. A red laser beam of light hit his chest, stopping his feet.

A sniper. Hidden somewhere on the top floor. Cole was in his sights.

Cole raised his palms. “I need to get in. I have to speak with Castle Kinkade. It’s urgent.”

“I’m sorry, sir. But we can’t let you in without an escort.”