by India Kells
“He was a psycho killer. No quest, no good intention could redeem what he had done.”
Miranda sighed on the other end. “You won’t be able to understand the true purpose of my brother until you have completed your initiation.”
“And what’s the next phase?”
“You’ll see. I’ll come for you and it will become crystal clear, Dylan Harris. Once you realize the project you are part of, nothing else will matter. As it has been for me.”
Miranda hung up. Silence was overwhelming as Dylan only stared at the blinking dot on her screen.
Owen came beside her. “I was finally able to contact Wes. He’s taking the first flight here with Mac. Beatrice is on her way, trying to reach other people to locate Lance or maybe find Mom. Nobody knows whose favor he was repaying, or where he might be.”
Dylan pointed at her screen. “He may very well be where that red dot is, same as for your mother.”
Owen leaned forward, examining the location. “I know the place, big box stores, and a few warehouses.” One look at his watch and he straightened. “At this time of night, there shouldn’t be a lot of traffic there. If she’s using it as a hiding place, it makes sense. The same method she used in Boston with Adelia.”
He went to his bedroom and opened his closet to retrieve two suitcases. One had enough firepower to suit a small army. As he selected a few items, Dylan looked at him.
“You’re not going there alone. I’m going with you.” Dylan hesitated only a second before selecting a gun from the display and checking it out. It was weird to hold a firearm in her hands after so long. The cold metal felt both foreign and familiar to the touch.
Owen put a hand over the gun she was holding and forced her to look at him. “I’m only going to do some recon before backup comes here. I need you to stay in the apartment, relay the information, and coordinate with the team when they arrive. I should only be gone a few hours, just enough to see if it’s not a trick of hers again. We can’t afford to not check it out, or go after her unprepared.”
Dylan shook her head. “You’re not going alone! Let’s wait, we’ll go as a team.”
Owen cupped her cheek. “I’m only going to take a look. And I want you safe here. It’s a trap … I know it, and you know it. But I don’t want that freak to know that we know. I want her to believe that she still has control over us, that she’s two steps ahead.”
She circled his wrist with her hand. “And that’s why I don’t want you to go alone.”
Owen’s voice stayed even, although she sensed he was starting to be annoyed. “Dylan, we need to split on this one. You need to keep an eye on her for me. You’ll be my eyes and my ears. But I promise you, when we take her down, you’ll be by my side. Stay in the apartment, the office is not up and running until Margot had locked the club down and shut the power off. Please.”
And with that, he kissed her—she supposed, both to reassure and silence her. Her desperation intensified. Something was wrong, and instead of taking measures to protect themselves, she had the impression that they were both running straight into the worst danger of all.
Chapter 36
Sitting at the kitchen table, Dylan hacked into a government satellite of a distant European country that had the fortune of passing above Seattle at the exact time she needed it. The image was not perfect, damn laptop, but it gave her an idea of the layout.
It had been an hour since Owen left, and apart from curt sentences, they barely talked. In her ear, she could hear his slow and steady breathing.
Night had fallen, and she had to remind herself that he was a former SEAL and a deadly shadow operative who knew how to handle himself. And again, as he had repeated it over and over in her head, it was only recon.
She had news from Wesley who was in a jet—perk of knowing a woman like Beatrice—and heading straight to the West Coast. Beatrice didn’t say where she was, but she told her to hang in there and that she was on her way with her husband, Gabrielle, Sullivan, and two other Purgatory agents.
So why did that unsettling feeling linger in her chest, nagged at her mind?
“Dylan, I’m taking position at the location. I’ll be silent for a while, as I circle the perimeter. There are still walkers around. I’ll contact you as soon as I have a better position.”
“Understood, Owen. Be careful.”
“For you, always.” And before she could say anything more, he clicked his headset off.
Eyes on her screen, she watched him, his green positioning dot moving. At least she could always know where he was, whatever may happen.
Her phone buzzed, alerting her of a text message. Since she was waiting for a status update from Beatrice, she checked it immediately.
Knock, knock.
What’s that? It buzzed again. The same message.
Knock, knock.
She checked the number, but it was a blocked ID. Not unusual for anybody working at Purgatory, but the only person she knew who would make that type of stupid joke was currently considered missing.
Knock, knock.
Why not? The only way to know the prankster was to play his game.
Who’s there?
Needle.
Needle who?
Needle little help putting the fire down? Or maybe you could do it yourself, Dylan.
Fire?
Who are you?
You know perfectly well who I am.
Miranda?
No answer. Why was she talking about a fire? Was she referring to the location where Owen was?
Knock, knock.
Stop that!
Knock, knock.
There was no other way to get answers it seemed.
Who’s there?
Luke.
Luke who?
Luke downstairs and see if you can find your mother-in-law or not through the smoke.
What’s this trick? It was Miranda, there was no doubt about it, but what was the purpose of this? She looked at her screen and resisted contacting Owen. If the threat was on his side, he had to remain as focused as possible. It may only be a mind trick. Owen had assured her that the club was like a bunker, and currently on lockdown and even if she had taken a good look at security, there was still a risk. There was always a risk.
But there wasn’t any risk at only taking a peep. The club had a camera for almost every single area or room downstairs. It took her only a minute to partially power up the club, link herself to the system and check.
Most rooms were dark. She could discern some of them, the camera showing a contour of some sort. One after the other, she checked, but they were empty. When she selected the hallway camera, that’s where she saw a sliver of light coming from the end door. The lounge. She checked, but when she reached the camera feed, the image was blurry. It took her a moment to realize that it was smoke.
“Fucking bitch!” Dylan almost unmuted her mike when she saw someone on the floor, moving. Impossible to recognize the silhouette, but if the riddle had been right, that meant the person moving through the smoke was Mary Sorenson. But was she alone? This wasn’t just a trap, this was jumping straight into the dragon’s mouth blindfolded. Did she have any other choice?
Pocketing her cell phone, she closed her laptop and ran to the room, rummaging through the closet for a weapon. Locked and loaded, Dylan slid the gun in the small of her back, touched her baton, and went for the door.
There was only two ways downstairs; through the front door, which was a big no-no as she didn’t have the key and the street was getting busier at night, or the back door, the only option.
As silently as possible, she ran downstairs. Unlocked. Damn! Everything was silent when she opened the door. The long corridor was dim, but she could see the thin haze coming from the lounge, making its way throughout the first floor. All doors were closed. She didn’t have a choice anyway and had to trust that Miranda didn’t want to kill her right away. She was so getting tired of this cat and mouse chase, anyway.
Last door
. The handle was hot when she turned it, opening the door to discover a growing inferno.
The fireplace had been set ablaze and one of the sofas had been pushed close. The fabric and wood were on fire.
Smoke made her eyes water, but she could see some strange device right next to the mantle. A bomb? Dylan didn’t have time to examine it when she heard noise from the bar area. Gun drawn, she stepped closer and saw movement behind it. A blonde-haired woman with tear-streaked eyed looked at her, half in defiance, half in desperation. Mary! But when Owen’s mother recognized Dylan, tears started running down her cheeks again, and over the tape covering her mouth. In fact, she was taped like a mummy.
Dylan began searching for something to cut it and quick. The smoke made it difficult to breathe and there was no way to know if the fire was the only danger in the room. Putting her gun on the counter, she started opening the drawers until she saw a small paring knife. That would do. It took agonizing seconds to set Mary free, and when she could move freely again, she removed the tape from her mouth on her own. Dylan grabbed her gun.
“Mary, we need to get out! Is there anybody else here with you?”
“No!” The older woman coughed, wobbly as she was helped to her feet. “It’s been hours since that woman has been here. The fire started only minutes ago. Thank goodness you arrived.”
That’s all Dylan needed to hear. She took Mary’s hands and pulled her toward the back, retracing her steps, mindful of the wobbly woman by her side.
Fresh air almost burned like smoke. Dylan started coughing, frantic to clear her throat. Mary seemed in better shape, probably because she had been on the floor most of the time.
From a distance, she heard glass shattering. Probably the front windows bursting from the heat of the fire. Unfortunately, from the backyard, there was no clue of what was going on inside.
Dylan took out her phone, but Mary stopped her.
“Who are you calling?”
“Well, the fire department for one. Why?”
“You told me you were a target, and I heard the FBI was after you.”
“So far, only for questioning …” How irritating that sentence sounded. She had to take care of that annoying tag when she had a minute to herself and a decent computer.
“If the firemen come, the police will come, too. You can’t stay here.”
“I’m not leaving you here unprotected.”
“She won’t be.”
It was pure instinct, as if only a minute had passed since her days in the force. Her gun was out and pointed straight at Lance’s head. She was incredibly grateful at this instant not to be trigger happy.
“Hell! Lance!” And before she could curse him more, she noticed the blood. Mary propelled herself in his arms and Dylan saw him wince as he closed his arms reassuringly around his mother.
“What happened to you? We couldn’t reach you!”
The giant man gently hugged his mother for an instant and then pulled her away to take a good look at her. “Are you all right, Mom?”
Mary smiled, tears gathering quickly. “Yes, my Lance. I’m safe, all because of Dylan. Again, it seems. I think we should make her an honorary member of our family.”
Lance smiled, but Dylan saw beyond it. The man had been scared and was now royally pissed.
“What happened here is part my fault. I was blindsided by Miranda, damn her. She somehow drugged me, probably the same one she used on you, Dylan. I don’t know how it works, but I probably gave her the codes for the club. I’m sorry.” Lance looked around. “Where is Owen?”
Dylan was about to tell him about what was going on when she heard sirens clearly making their way to the club.
Mary jumped, and grabbed Dylan’s hand. “Go! Now! I have Lance, I’m safe.”
Dylan nodded but before she ran, Lance was adamant she answered.
“Owen is on recon, a possible hiding place of Miranda.”
“Where? Here, in Seattle?
“Yeah, scouting the area until the team arrived. I reached for Bea and she’s coming with the entire horde.”
Lance nodded, but he was clearly worried. “If he went to the warehouse I just escaped from, there’s no scouting necessary. Plain and simple, it’s a trap.”
Dylan’s heart jumped into her throat and she grabbed her phone. And as she expected, Owen didn’t answer. “I’m going there.”
Lance grabbed her arm. “Wait, Dylan. Wait for Wes and Bea to arrive.”
Dylan shook her head. “I’m leaving you with this burning mess, Lance. Take care of your mother. I can’t leave Owen. I’m going there, and put an end to this madness.”
Chapter 37
It took longer than expected for Dylan to arrive on site. Way too long. She had to ditch the car she had stolen and analyze the layout, making sure she wouldn’t trigger any trap. The area was in the dark now, the nearby streetlight conveniently off. And Owen still hadn’t answered his phone. From the moment she left Mary in Lance’s care, she had redialed his number countless times. And with each ring, she hoped, prayed, it wouldn’t go to voicemail. She needed to hear his voice, telling her that he had only turned off his phone a minute.
This had to end. And in the deepest, untouched part of her soul, she prayed for it to end with Owen alive and well. At that instant, Dylan realized that she could go through everything again, every excruciating pain, every bleeding scar, every frightening moment if she only knew that he would be alive. And maybe if she hoped for redemption enough, to have him in her arms again, to bury her nose in his chest and breathe his familiar scent.
She inched toward the door, the only one not locked from the outside.
When she entered, as expected, it was a vast warehouse with a strong sense of déjà vu. What was unexpected was how completely empty is was. As far as the eye could see, completely, eerily empty. With only one exception—a small table, in the middle of the area, with a candle and vase filled with white daisies.
Dylan took a steadying breath. “Only way is forward.” The sound of her own voice steadied her nerves.
Slowly, Dylan made her way to the table and as she approached, the wretched smell of citrus and lavender filled her nostrils. Six feet from the small table, she stopped. Illuminated by candle light was a picture of Knudson. Her phone buzzed.
Thank you for coming, Dylan. We were waiting for you.
And she received a picture of Owen, tied to a chair, his head bowed. Obviously drugged.
Her phone rang in her hand, and as was her habit, Miranda had blocked her phone number.
“You’re right where I wished you to be. From the beginning, you have been as I expected.”
“Is Owen alright? What did you do to him?”
“The real question is how a girl like me could overpower and capture a man like him. Let’s say that the love of a son for his mother would make him do anything. Only a quick picture and he was doing exactly what I wanted him to do. Same way as I did with his brother. And the exact same thing you will do for me right now.”
“It needs to stop, Miranda. You want me? You have me now. Let him go. Let them all be and only take me.”
“Selflessness. Another of your strength. However, it’s not that aspect of your personality that you need to fortify yet. But that will come soon enough, as you’re on the right track. My brother would be so proud of you. Now, if you want to keep Owen Sorenson safe, you know what to do.”
Disconnected, Dylan pocketed her phone again. Did she really know what to do? As she saw the daisies, the same arrangement that was sent to her at Mary’s farmhouse, she realized there was only one option. She took a step, blew out the candle, and inhaled the familiar scent of the hallucinogen sprinkled over the flowers.
Dizziness blurred her vision, and she lost track of time. She really needed to find a way to stop being drugged like that.
Time seemed to be suspended. And it was only when she felt her head throbbing like crazy that she knew her trip had been shorter than she expected. The more s
he moved, the more her brain felt as if it had been bashed against concrete. The pulsations of her heart reverberated inside her head, making her moan in agony. Yet, her mind cleared faster than she expected.
“Well, happy to see you’re coming back to us, my dearest sister. Sorry to cut your hallucination short, but we must get down to work.”
That voice! Her mind wanted to crawl away from it, not remember, but another part of her was panicked. Not for her, but for—