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Her mother moaned.
She’s alive. “Call 9-1-1.”
Matt grabbed his phone, but before he could call they all heard sirens in the background.
She turned back to her mother and saw her cell in her hand. “Mom? Talk to me.”
Her mother’s eyes fluttered but didn’t open.
“Please, Mom. You have to tell me where Kimmie is. Please. She has to be safe.”
Her mom’s lips vibrated slightly.
She leaned down closer. “Mom, wake up. Please. Help me.”
As the sirens got louder, one word was all she could hear from her mother.
“Carl.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sean stood beside Jena, who was holding her mother’s hand.
She needed him to remain calm and in control, which, thanks to his training, he was able to achieve. He’d already sent a text to Dylan about what they’d found. Where were the agents that were supposed to have come here earlier?
He glanced over at Matt, who was giving his statement to the police.
The EMTs placed Jena’s mother on the gurney. He could see where some of Jena’s strength had come from. There was blood and skin under her fingernails. She’d apparently gotten in a good swipe on Braxton before he punched her in the face several times.
Jena hadn’t stopped trembling, but she had stopped talking after her mother uttered Braxton’s name.
He’d seen that same look before. Jena’s face reminded him of his battlefield days. Too many times he’d seen the same gaze on his fellow soldiers. Blank. Absent. He knew she was in a total state of shock. No wonder. Her mother was injured and they had no idea where Braxton had taken Kimmie. No clue at all.
Fuck.
Two men walked into the rental house. It was plain to see by their demeanor and clothing they were from the Agency.
Too late, buddies. Fuck.
They presented identifications to the officer in charge.
Matt finished giving his statement to the policeman and walked back to Jena and Sean. One of the agents continued talking to the sergeant, and the other headed straight to them.
Sean moved a few steps from Jena, fearing what he might learn from the man. She didn’t need to hear the worst.
The agent stood in front of him and Matt. “Dixon?”
“That’s me,” Matt answered.
“I’m MacCabe.”
“White,” the man told them.
“Why so late, White?” he asked him, unable to hold back the rage in his tone.
White removed his sunglasses. “Black thinks it was Lunceford.”
“Lunceford what?”
