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They would go and get her. Holt made a personal vow to make it happen and to take out whoever he had to in the process. But right now his entire world focused on the jumbled message filled with typos. He could make out the most important part—“hury, luv u.”
Chapter Fifteen
Holt got through the New Foundations front gate without trouble. He expected the guns to come out and Simon to appear. Something that matched the fierce grandness of Lindsey’s abduction.
But the camp operated as usual. People carried on, did chores, rode in trucks to the gun range. If anyone knew an innocent woman had been grabbed and dragged up here, they didn’t show it. It was possible they didn’t care but more likely they didn’t know.
The lack of knowledge worked to Holt’s advantage. The tracker he had placed inside Lindsey’s back jeans pocket, the same tracer he put on her every morning since moving into her house, showed her on the property. But that spread for miles. With Shane’s help, Holt had narrowed down a location. An off-limits building on a part of the property used to store equipment.
According to the files Connor had collected, the place once operated as an employee rec room. Using Cam’s aerial photos, they determined that because of the fencing and forest surrounding the area, there was only one easy way into the building. Through the front door.
Trying not to draw attention or pop up on one of the seemingly thousands of video cameras spread around the campus, Holt walked with a sense of calm. His insides had been diced raw, but he didn’t let any of that pounding panic show on the outside. Lindsey needed him safe and strong. And she needed him now.
Walking along the lines of cabins closest to the dining hall, Holt passed right in front of the steps to Simon’s office. It was the path Holt took every workday, and he did not stray now. Not when anyone could be watching. A quick turn and he slipped between delivery trucks and around a giant storage shed used for nonperishable items.
He had too far to go on foot for the little time he feared he had. Transportation proved tricky. Everyone had to sign out a vehicle to use it. Holt had left his truck in the parking lot per protocol. That left running or improvising. Holt chose lying.
He slipped into the camp’s makeshift garage. He had a choice of two vehicles. Both would have GPS trackers and become unusable once he collected Lindsey. That was fine with Holt, since he had other transportation arrangements in mind for the getaway.
With his usual wave to the mechanic, Holt walked right up to the dispatch station. He grabbed the clipboard hanging there on the nail and started filling out the appropriate lines. Holt saw the guy working there almost every day on duty and hoped that counted for something.
The dispatch guy looked up. “I don’t have you down for a vehicle today.”
“We have some trees down over by the exercise yard.” Steady and calm. Holt delivered the line with the dead accuracy of the truth.
The trees were fine, but the story proved easy to sell. The wind knocked things around here all the time. Holt had spent most of his first days cutting fallen branches and clearing paths.
Today he pretended to do the same even as the countdown clock started clanging in his head. He was running out of time and if this dragged on he’d have to turn to Plan B. That consisted of running and finding her and hoping not to get shot as he took off in the most overgrown direction.
Holt handed the clipboard back and waited. He’d know in two seconds if Simon had put out the call to stop him.
The dispatcher didn’t miss a beat. He grabbed an extra set of keys and handed them to Holt. “We need this tomorrow for a supply pickup, so I need it back by the end of the shift.”
Holt kept his relieved breath locked inside him. “No problem.”
He got two steps toward the truck before the dispatcher called his name. Holt turned nice and slow as he conducted a mental inventory of the weapons he had on him. Last thing he wanted to do was kill this guy or injure any of the members who seemed to want quiet more than a battle.
Any except Todd. That guy had a bullet waiting for him.
The dispatcher pointed toward the sign above the checkout clipboard. “Don’t forget to fill the tank.”
“Will do.” Holt felt the trapped air leave his lungs. He read that faded and peeling sign almost every day. Passed by it and followed the order, which wasn’t tough, since there was a filling station not far from the garage.
Not waiting another second, Holt slipped out of the building and slid into the front seat of the truck. With every second he expected guards to swarm and guns to fire. But the big escape plan ran smoothly. No one tried to stop him. No one questioned his right to be in certain areas. He moved with confidence and they responded by giving him room to find what he wanted. In this case, space.
