“Well, it worked. Now I need to talk to him or Harry.”
“There is no way you’re getting access to the senator.”
“Watch me.”
“I’ll shoot you on sight if I have to, Drew.” Silas’ voice has an icy edge.
I know he means it.
Trust me. I trained him.
I know.
“They kidnapped Lindsay.”
“Right.” Agony vibrates in his words. “We’re all doing our best -- ”
“Not enough.”
“What’s enough?”
“I don’t know who to trust.”
“You can trust me. And Paulson.”
I shoot him a look.
“You’re not exactly high on the list of trustworthy people from where I stand, Drew. Someone has to break here, and I can’t.”
“I need a laptop. A computer with a powerful processor.”
He walks to his car and I follow. In the backseat, a black leather computer bag has what I need. A few keystrokes and he gives me the laptop. I find my way to an encrypted site and search my wallet.
“Got a micro USB adapter?” I ask him. Silas produces one almost instantly from a small ring of keys in his pocket.
I find the tiny chip in my wallet, insert it in the flash drive, and load up.
A map of North America appears and then it zooms in to California.
“Coordinates are loading,” I mutter to myself.
“You’re tracking her? In real time?”
“I wish. We’re not quite there, but damn close. Any time she gets in range of an RFID scanner...”
The screen’s processing. Churn churn churn. I slump against the seat and breathe. Silas reaches in the backseat and pulls out a water bottle.
“Drink this.” He searches the glove compartment and hands me a small first aid kit. “There’s a protein bar in there and some alcohol wipes for your cuts.”
“Cuts?”
“Whoever detained you did some serious damage, Drew. You should go to a -- ”
I give him a C’mon look.
“Right.” Going to a hospital right now is the best way to get captured. I don’t exist, remember?
And I need to not exist so I can make sure Lindsay does exist.
The screen zooms all the way in and I see a very familiar-looking aerial view.
“That can’t be right. Software malfunctioned,” I say under my breath. The coordinates don’t add up.
“Need help?” Silas asks.
“No,” I reply, terse and confused. Frankly, I do need help, because my right eye’s so swollen I can barely see. The water hurts my mouth more than it helps. I pry my lips open and force myself to drink. It’s better than being dehydrated. Every bone in my joints grinds with effort.
I tighten my hands into fists, pumping my blood.
I read off a list of coordinates.
Those aren’t...wait.
I stare at the numbers. Pull up a new window. Type them in.
The picture the web browser shows is the front gate of an apartment complex.
My apartment complex.
“What the fuck,” I mutter, sure I did something wrong. This is human error. Has to be. There is no way those bastards kidnapped Lindsay from her parents’ estate and took her to my place.
When something makes no sense, backtrack. Double check. Verify.
I do.
Same result.
“What the hell are they doing with her in my apartment?” I say loudly.
Too loudly.
“What’s going on?” Silas is outside the open window, eyes sharp.
“I found her. Maybe.”
“Maybe? There’s no maybe with a tracking chip, Drew. You mean you found where they had her?”
I squint. Not hard when you only have one functional eye, but it hurts. “Looks like the chip passed my complex’s RFID scanner about two hours ago.”
“She’s at your apartment complex?” he asks, confused. Then he whips around on me, hand moving to his weapon. “Why?” Silas’ entire demeanor changes.
“How the hell do I know? They’re not at the Island. Is that where Paulson is? Did he take off to try to rescue her while I was still detained?”
“Don’t know.”
“Silas.”
“I seriously do not know, Drew.”
“I need to get to Lindsay before they move her.”
“Why did they bring her to your apartment in the first place?”
“Why do you think?” The realization crawls over my body.
He reels. “They’re setting you up for her murder.”
Chapter 4
Lindsay
I become intimately acquainted with the fibers on the bedspread in Drew’s bedroom. When you’re stuck face down, bound by the wrists behind your back while wearing skin-tight clothes, you find ways to calm down.
Not that any of those ways work.
It’s hopeless to try to manage my racing brain. Resilience is a useful trait when there’s hope.
It’s horrifying when any chance of escape is gone.
The mind can calculate, bargain, analyze and shift, taking in new information and discarding old as it figures out how to get back to an even-keeled state. The body, too. My muscles find micro-changes to help lessen the pain, spasms leading to more deep breathing than you’d find in a yoga class or at a pot rally.
But you can’t escape your own mind. The anticipation of what these bastards plan for me makes the mind-body connection that much tighter. It’s my body they plan to use for whatever sick means to an end.
All my mind can do is imagine.
How could Daddy have been so stupid? The soft fibers of this pale blue bedspread feel hot against my cheek as I rotate my head and try to think. Any topic other than the screaming fear that they’ll hurt me is better. I replay the day’s events so far. Daddy telling me about going back to the Island. My argument with him. How he said it was just for an evaluation, a few days, a break.
I knew he was full of shit. I pleaded. He said my relationship with Drew wasn’t healthy for either of us. All the while, I defended Drew.
Maybe that was my mistake. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.
Then Mom came in the room with Anya behind her.
It all went downhill from there.
My calf seizes in a cramp. As I move to make the throbbing pain stop, I widen my legs. Cold air rushes in. I’m not wearing panties.
My day has really, really gone downhill.
Like lava from Vesuvius.