Denver and Heath worked in their offices while Greg assisted Zara by measuring the apartments upstairs for furniture. After she’d fed him pancake after pancake, the kid had followed her around like a duck that had imprinted. He had even given a little growl when Ryker kissed her on the forehead before heading for his office.
Heath poked his head in, tension in his shoulders. “The FBI has about twenty suspects they’re following up on with the Copper Killer case, but I’ve gone through them all, and I think they’re on the wrong track. None of those guys really fit.”
Ryker sighed. “Do we have anything?” If they didn’t get a move on, the bastard would take another girl within the next week, if not the FBI agent. Gut instinct told him the killer was too smart to fall for the trap.
“Nothing.” Frustration marred Heath’s forehead. “If we had something, I’d head out, but I have no clue where to go.”
“Hey, guys!” Denver called. “Come here.”
Ryker pushed from the desk and followed Heath through the main room to Denver’s office. “What?” he asked, dropping into a chair while Heath did the same.
“I’ve been searching for Isobel Madison, and I found a string to pull. My gut says it’s a trap, and once we bite, backtracking software will kick in and trace us here.” Denver scratched his chin and looked at the computer like it might bite him.
Ryker’s stomach ached. Did they really want to find that woman? Logically, he knew they had to, but deep down, he was that scared kid again who just wanted to run.
“We could create software that won’t allow the backtrack,” Heath said, scowling.
Ryker held up a hand. He needed to be in control to think, and he had to be proactive. “What if we allow her to track us? We could do the same thing to her as we did to Greg. Draw her in. It’s probably the only chance we have of getting her.” She’d had a lot more years than they had to learn surveillance, subterfuge, and strategy. “Let’s fall into her hands.” He wanted to puke as he said the last sentence.
Denver’s hand folded into a fist on his desk. “I hate this.”
“Me too,” Ryker said.
“We’d have to use safe house three,” Heath said.
Ryker nodded. “If we want her close, it has to be in Cisco.” They’d created three safe houses when they bought the current building just in case they needed to move and fast. “We can wire the place, so if anybody shows up, we can be there in ten minutes.”
Heath kicked his boots out and crossed his ankles. “If we go forward with this, there’s no going back. I don’t know where it’ll end, but right now we’re somewhat safe from the past. She is the past, men.”
“She’s the key,” Denver replied softly.
“I’m damn tired of playing defense. Let’s take control. Plus, she’s the only way to find these missing brothers of Greg’s,” Ryker said. If his brothers were missing, he’d be out of his damn mind. He had to help that kid find his family.
Heath shook his head. “Speaking of which, if Greg has brothers somewhere, why won’t he tell us where?”
“He said their school was blown up, and he has no clue where his brothers were relocated,” Ryker reminded him.
“The kid isn’t telling us the whole truth,” Heath countered.
Ryker nodded. “Would you tell us? I mean, if you were that kid, would you reveal all?”
“Shit no,” Heath said slowly. “He trusts like we do: not at all.”
“If I couldn’t find you guys, I’d be desperate,” Ryker said. “He is, and that’s why I trust him. He has to find those brothers the same way I’d need to find you guys. That’s the only reason he came to us—to anybody—for help: desperation.”
Greg appeared suddenly in the door. “I’m not desperate.”
Denver typed quickly on the keyboard, waited a minute, and then flipped the monitor around. “Here’s the depot in Utah that was blown up.” Scorched earth and shattered buildings littered the snowy ground. “How do you expect us to believe you?”
Greg swallowed and stepped inside the room. He paled, and a look way too stark to belong to a kid filled his eyes. “Scan to the north.”
Denver reached for the mouse and manipulated the screen beyond the buildings to a wide field. “Yeah?”
“Zoom in to the left.”
Denver did so, craning his neck to see around the monitor. “Okay.” He frowned. “What’s that?”
Greg paled. “That was my grave, man.”
Ryker jerked his head back and narrowed his gaze. A grave marker did line the area away from the downed fence. But…he looked closer and then whistled.
“Yeah,” Greg said. “It’s been dug up.”
“So you think your brothers are looking for you?” Heath asked.
Greg shook his head. “No. I set up several places on the Internet that they could find if they were looking, and only they could find those places on the dark web. They haven’t looked, so they don’t think I’m alive.”
“Why the hell would they move your grave, then?” Ryker asked.
“If they left the compound, if they found safety somehow, they’d take me with them.” Faith in his brothers colored Greg’s words.
Ryker fought a shiver. “True that,” he murmured.