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He silently urged her phone to connect. To give him a location.
A red dot appeared on his screen.
“Got it!” He peered down at it.
“She’s not far,” Quaide said.
Clay jerked his head up and pointed east. The dot moved.
“Wait—is she being moved?”
“Only one kind of vehicle can transport a coffin. Get to the truck.” Clay took off at a dead run for the truck. He jumped behind the wheel just as Quaide took shotgun. They tore out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires. The vehicle fishtailed on the road.
“Give me your phone. I’ll navigate.” Quaide held out a hand, and Clay thrust the device at him.
“Take a right here.”
He damn near missed the quick turn and swerved too wide into the oncoming lane. A driver blasted his horn at him, but Clay only stomped the gas pedal to the floor and shot forward.
“I’ve never dealt with anything like this before.” Quaide’s statement would have made Clay gape at him in stunned awe if he weren’t so focused on reaching Lark.
“How much air is inside a coffin? How much time does she have?” He didn’treallywant the answer.
As Quaide searched his own phone for the answer, Clay held his breath. He opened his mouth to respond, but Clay sliced a hand through the air.
Quaide stopped and met his stare. Clay pointed to his phone. Lark was still on the line. She could hear the answer to that question and panic even more.
Though she’d remained much calmer than most people would be in her situation—including him—Clay had detected the hum of fear in her voice.
Quaide held up his phone for him to read the answer.
Five and a half hours. If she remained calm.
He did the mental math and determined she’d only been missing about forty-five minutes. He pushed the pedal to the floor harder.
“Forgot what a terrible driver you are, Lexis.” Quaide grabbed the handle over the window.
“I don’t take complaints from people who aren’t part of the team.”
He huffed. “This is one hell of a time to recruit. Is there an interview process too?”
“No. You’re in.” He glanced at his friend. “I need you on Sentry, Livingston.”
Quaide tensed as they rounded a curve far too fast and nearly careened into the guiderail. At the last second, Clay jerked the truck into the lane.
“Fine, sign me up. I’ll take the position. This is the best adrenaline rush I’ve felt since—Well, never mind. But I’m tired of sitting behind a desk.”
“Welcome aboard.”
“Next time I drive, Lexis.”
“Just tell me where to go.” He scoured the road for a hearse, but traffic was sparse, and all he saw were a few SUVs that were probably headed out of town for supplies.
“Another right. Five hundred feet. See that road sign?”
He drew his lips across his teeth and gunned it. They hit a high speed, and Clay slammed on the brakes just as they reached the turn.
Quaide said nothing, but Clay had broken out in a heavy sweat. The need to rescue Lark became a throb in his chest. It had a deep rumble like a gong that spread throughout his body. His hands grew slick on the leather wheel.
