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ChapterThirteen
“This is so good of you, Dillon. Once we get to that café in West Seattle, the waitress will know I’m not the same person she served in that video.” Harper glanced through the windshield of Dillon’s SUV as he drove through downtown traffic. She blinked as her gaze blurred for a second. Must be from all that damn crying earlier. “The fact you brought me coffee for the drive is too damn cute.” She sipped from the Styrofoam cup’s plastic lid and lowered the drink into the cup holder.
“Hey, you’re worth the trouble.” Dillon steered the car down a series of small streets, leading out of downtown.
After five minutes, she glimpsed the tops of the orange cargo cranes from the Seattle Seaport. Older, grungier buildings—warehouses—lined the streets. “This isn’t the direct route to West Seattle.”
“I’m not taking you to the café, Harper.”
“But...”
She turned and her head lolled to the side. What was wrong with her arms? They felt so damn heavy. And lifting her head was a herculean task. “What?” She tried to lift a hand, but her arm got halfway and fell back down to her side. “Dillth?” Her mouth and tongue no longer worked as a team.
“We’re going to have so much fun, Harper.” Dillon reached over and stroked his index finger down her face. The sharp edge of his fingernail scratched her cheek.
She winced.
He laughed.
If she could, Harper would have screamed at the cruel viciousness shining in Dillon’s eyes before blackness claimed her.
* * *
“Anything?” Seth asked Heath as he paced behind his desk. His office was crowded with two FBI Agents, McNally and Randall, who had been liaising with Dillon, as well as his brothers.
“Not yet,” Heath said as he ended a call. “That call was from a uniform. We can rule out the house in Queen Anne. Nobody’s there. I’ve requested a BOLO for Dillon and his car.”
It had been only twenty minutes now since Dillon had driven off with Harper, but it felt like weeks.
Adam turned away from where he was showing the cybercrime guys his new findings. “What about that girl he was seeing? The architect?”
Seth scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Megan checked for me. Rebecca didn’t come in today.” The woman’s absence left them with more questions than answers.
“I’ll get her details and send officers to her house.” Heath walked toward the door of Seth’s office. “Besides, she may be able to suggest a place he’d go.”
Seth glanced out the window, but ignored the view as he prioritized the actions needing completion.
Find Harper and get her safe.
Then find out what twisted thinking had warped Dillon’s brain.
And neither of those objectives could be achieved until either the cops pulled off a miracle and found Dillon, or his brother contacted him.
“Does he own other property besides the house?” Zach asked.
“If he does, it’s not in his name.” Adam looked up from his laptop. “Already checked. I’m calling Tollison.”
Adam had called his friend last night with the news they suspected Harper of making the most recent posts. The DHS Agent had planned to meet them later this afternoon. Chances were high Seth would now see him sooner.
“Fox stays in the dark for now, agreed?” Seth glanced around the room. The man was an ‘A’ grade bastard, and Seth didn’t trust him.
“Agreed.” McNally, the younger of the two thirty-something agents nodded. “We don’t know to what degree he’s involved in any of this mess.”
“Let’s not forget this isn’t a man who’d give his life for his child.” Zach’s brows drew into a harsh line, as if the very thought disgusted him. The comparison Seth drew between Fox and Zach and what they’d sacrifice for their respective daughters couldn’t be more stark.
“Good point,” Seth said as Heath rejoined them.
Time was running out to gain any advantage on Dillon—a meticulous planner who thrived on detail.
