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Gage stopped at an open door. “Done?”
“With me working with you on this case. Because Russ told us to.” She frowned, but it seemed more like she was trying to figure out what to say. “Which means I can hopefully sign a contract with the PD and get Vanguard signed on as a consultant.”
“Okay.” What was she saying?
“Maybe after that, things could go back to just being personal between us. Not work.”
Gage nodded.
“Unless you want to write me a recommendation letter that Russ can take into account. About how amazing Vanguard is, and how instrumental we were in bringing this crew of suspects in.” She smiled.
He didn’t like the note of irritation that sprung up in him then. As if she’d only been hanging around to prove herself. Peter was the one who’d called him to the homicide scene, not Clare. She might not even have contacted him at all.
He turned away. “We’ll see.”
“What—”
Jasper stepped into the doorway.
“What have you got?” Gage moved into the room, Clare behind him. Though he heard something whispered low between them, Gage ignored it and took in what he was looking at. A bland room where the drywall had been mudded but no primer or paint. If it wasn’t the second floor, he would think it was an unfinished basement.
In the center was a single wood chair that matched the dining table chairs downstairs. Four lights on stands marked corners of a square around the chair.
“This is where Katrina was held.”
He turned back to Clare. “You’re sure?”
“We could show her photos to confirm, but this is exactly what she described. They put a hood over her head and led her in bound so she had no idea where she was.”
The one guy they still had to find had done this.
Gage said to Jasper. “We need to know if the guy we just arrested knew what was going on here.”
Jasper stepped into the hall and got on the radio. Gage heard the exchange in his earpiece and looked back at the room.
“All so he could get the doctor to kill Alex—or try to.” Clare wandered the room. “What’s in there?”
The door at the far end looked like any home interior door. “Let’s find out.” Gage strode over, lifted his boot, and kicked the door open. Even if it might not have been locked, it was still satisfying to do that. More than turning a handle.
Clare stepped in first. “Whoa.”
At the center stood a folding plastic table with stuff bundled on it. Clothes and rope. A duffel, and a pair of black tactical boots. Papers lined the walls—huge blueprints and schematics. Computer systems. A building had been taken apart and drawn out in plans, layer by layer. Rooms. Electronic access ports.
“What is this place?” Gage wondered aloud. Maybe it was this guy’s next target. He turned to Clare because she hadn’t said anything.
Her face had paled. Her hand shaky when she lifted it and pointed. “This is Vanguard. All of it. This ismybuilding.”
Gage took a step toward her. “Clare—”
She pulled out a phone and made a call. “Four-seven-two-nine. Code Black.”
He heard a distant voice say, “Understood.”
Clare hung up the phone and made another call. She put it to her ear. “I know. I need your help, but you need to leave the baby with a sitter.” She rattled off the address where they were, then hung up.
Blew out a breath.
We’re gonna find him.
