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Again, his puzzlement seemed sincere.
She touched her throbbing cheek.
Why weren’t the pieces of this puzzle fitting?
Or maybe they were, and her brain was too rattled from the blow to her head to connect the dots.
“If that’s true, why did you bring me here?”
“You’ll find out.”
“When?”
“When it’s time.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just shut up, okay?” The man appeared to be seriously nervous now. “No more talking while we wait.”
“Wait for what?”
Silence.
And as the tomb-like quiet expanded to fill the underground bunker ... as tension vibrated off the walls ... as her fate grew more and more precarious with every second that ticked by ... one fact was crystal clear.
While the munitions this place had once stored were long gone, one part of the bunker’s history was alive and well.
Its legacy of death.
TWENTY-NINE
JACK TUCKER HAD ARRIVED.
As Bri’s brother swung into an empty parking spot near the iconic garden store in Kirkwood and vaulted from his car, Marc waved at him from beside Bri’s Camry.
The other man joined him, forehead wrinkling as he examined the car. “This isn’t good.”
No kidding.
“It was the first thing I spotted. I already did a walk-through of the farmers’ market.” He waved a hand across the street. “No one working there remembered seeing Bri. They were all focused on a blast near the train station that turned out to be fireworks in a trash can, hooked up to a timer, according to the cop who had Bri in his sights until he took off to investigate. An obvious distraction ploy.”
Jack squinted at him in the fading daylight. “You’ve been busy since I passed on the cop’s name.”
“With nothing to show for it. What did Bri’s boss say?”
“Only what you’d already told me about the call that came in holding out the promise of a tip on the Kavanaugh case.” Jack forked his fingers through his hair and surveyed the scene. “We have to track her down.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Let’s canvass the businesses on this side of the street. It’s possible one of the shopkeepers noticed her.”
“I already hit a few. We can divide up the rest and—”
“Excuse me. Are you the law enforcement guy?”
Marc turned.
The lanky teenager who’d addressed him stood about six feet away.
