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She nodded. “Or gone by now. We’ve got no data to go on. The satellite pass is complete. It’ll take me a couple hours to access any recorded data.”
Mason never took his eyes off Randall. “Dressler’s been secured,” he said over the comlink. “He says Peckham’s car was spotted on the road toward the church an hour ago.” He paused, listening. “Copy that. You kids stay safe.”
“What’s going on?” Randall asked.
Mason scratched his cheek. “Not sure. Whatever it is, it’s not good. The team’s pulling into the church lot now. They confirm there are no vehicles visible in the immediate vicinity, but Tai’s drones registered one live body in the parsonage.”
Randall’s mouth dropped open. “Just one? Is it Vangie?”
“No idea,” Mason said. “All we know for certain is there’s one person alive in there. Could be Peckham. Could be Myles or his wife.”
“The nut job probably took Vangie with him.” Randall said. “Your people need to search the highway. We need to call the sheriff.”
Mason pointed at Randall, then at the dining room table. “Sit down and keep quiet. You move, I tie you up. You talk, I add a gag. Get it?”
Jane expected Randall to argue, but apparently good sense prevailed. Mouth crimped into a pout, he flung himself down in the chair.
Too nervous to sit still, she grabbed a dishrag, wiping the spotless countertop. “What now?”
Paige gave her a sympathetic look. “Now we wait.”
“And pray,” Mason added. “It never hurts.”
The four of them bowed their heads as Mason lifted a plea for the team’s safety, and for Pastor Zack.
Her heart ached and her nerves felt like they were on fire, but the quiet SEAL was right. Praying never hurt.
34
“You don’t thinkthe perp would set another IED, do you?” Tai asked from the passenger seat of the Jeep.
Bridger pulled off the road out of sight of the parsonage. “Why not? It worked last time.”
Tai snorted. “Kind of. They missed their target.”
Yeah. And Jane. Barely.
He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel, shoving any thoughts of Jane’s sweet face out of his mind, calling up the hyper-focus he’d honed over years running ops. Two deep breaths, and his mind was centered, his emotions blanked out.
He killed the engine, wondering what they were walking into. Tai handled his high-tech drones like a maestro, but there was only so much info tech could provide. They’d dropped Kate and Fenn at the intersection of the highway. The pair would hike around the back side of the property and report in, ready to provide cover fire. Or help with a rescue.
Tai sprang out of the vehicle, his eyes on the screen of his drone controller. “No movement inside.” He shoved a hank of hair out of his eyes and pointed at the parsonage. “That old chimney’ll work. I’m sending in a sensor drone now.”
With the windows on the left side covered in plywood, and blast marks scoring the white paint, the wounds to the tidy building were all too obvious. Bridger sighed. Sometimes he missed the old days, when surveillance meant actual human intel.
The tiniest flicker of black sped across the sky and disappeared down the chimney. Tai’s sensor drones were less than half the size of a cell phone. Or a house finch. And they moved a lot faster. Unless you knew where to look, you’d never see one.
“Whoa.” The big man frowned down at his screen. He activated his comlink. “A friendly safety alert, folks. We got dimethyl methane. High concentration.”
Bridger rolled his eyes. “English, please?”
“Propane,” Fenn answered over comms.
“Someone’s been doing their homework.” Tai sounded impressed, then his tone turned serious. “It’s close to lethal levels. Whoever’s in there, we gotta get them out ASAP.” He looked at Bridger. “Let me send in a camera drone. We need to know if there are any booby traps set.”
Bridger nodded. While Tai got the second drone up and running, he considered their options. No time to alert law enforcement. Plus, calling in deputies would only put more people in danger. Time enough to inform the sheriff’s department once they rescued the victim and secured the area. Once they had the situation handled, he’d take whatever tongue lashing the old-school sheriff wanted to dish out.
Like most of the buildings on the fringe of the small town, the church compound used propane for heat, and probably cooking. He activated the comlink. “Kate or Fenn, you see the propane tank?”
