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“Hmm. Still not pulling up any MP reports with that name. We’ve got a few Tammy’s but no Tamsyn with that spelling. Nothing matching the photos you sent me, either.” Fingertips drummed on a desk in a slow, thoughtful wave. “Maybe she doesn’t have family? Could be she’s been living rough. That would explain the lack of a missing person report.”

It was possible. It would certainly explain her current condition and the dilapidated state of her clothes. Actually, it explained a lot, but he couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that it went deeper than vagrancy—the way she flinched if a hand moved too fast in her direction, the almost cowed way she behaved.

Submissive, but submissive against her will.

Conditioning.

“I’ll ask one of the guys to check social media, see if there’s any trace of her there. People are becoming increasingly anti-establishment, shunning law enforcement. They won’t run to the cops to file a report.”

“Not one of the guys,” Merrick corrected. “You, Grit.”

“With the balls I’m juggling, you’ll be lucky. I trust my team to be thorough, Merrick. If Tamsyn is out there to be found, we’ll find her. Everyone leaves a footprint; it’s the curse of the world as we know it.”

“I need it to be you. Don’t know your team, Grit, but Liam thinks highly of you and your former employer. Heisler, right? Atticus Heisler, big gun out in Arizona. You know how to find things others can’t, see the details others miss.” He hesitated, wondering whether voicing his theory was going to make him come across as paranoid. Taking another sip, he exhaled and asked, “Mind if I’m honest?”

“When are you not?”

His lips curved at that. At least his reputation for honesty preceded him. “I don’t think she’s homeless, Grit. My instincts are telling me she’s on the run, and she’s running for a reason. I believe whatever, whomever she left in her wake won’t be far behind.”

“You think someone’s hunting her,” Grit stated flatly.

“I think if I had her and she ran away, I’d be pissed.”

Growling under his breath, the other Master fell silent for a long moment. “I was mainly a set of muscles when I worked for Att. Point and shoot, like the rest of the team. That’s not to say we didn’t have the smarts in the heat of the moment, but the bulk of our success was due to our other team, the people busting their asses in the background.”

“Nice to know you’re a modest man, Grit.”

“Ha. Look, if you want results fast and accurate, me and my guys aren’t what you need. We’re good, but we’re not as cohesive as a unit as we should be yet. Efficiency is key. Let me get in touch with someone, see if they’re willing to step in and do the deep digging on this.”

That wasn’t really an ideal substitute. Tamsyn was hemmed in by strangers now, was it fair to ask her to withstand the scrutiny of more? “How well do you know thissomeone?”

“I trust them with my life, Merrick.”

He supposed that would suffice. “Hook them up, get them onboard. If there’s someone coming for her, we need to know before they get here. Hell, if a wizened old woman turns up claiming to be Tamsyn’s long-lost grandmother, we better know who the fuck she is and what she ate for breakfast.”

“You sound a little crazy, Merrick. Has Linnie done a rape kit on the… on Tamsyn?”

The wordrapeshocked him off the trainwreck of his thoughts. Honestly, rape and sexual assault hadn’t been high on his list of concerns; the signs he got from the little owl were more symptomatic of systemic abuse rather than sexual.

That didn’t mean she hadn’t been taken advantage of in a hostile environment.

Damn it, he needed her to find her voice.

“No, Linnie didn’t believe Tamsyn’s injuries were caused by a person. There was nothing to warrant invading her privacy that far, and she didn’t mention any signs of rape when she inserted the catheter.” Because the thought sickened him, Merrick tossed back the last of his drink in one swallow. “I’m not putting her through the test now, Grit. She’s iatrophobic.”

“The hell is that?”

“Seriously? Your fiancée suffers the same affliction and you don’t know what it is?”

“The only thing that terrifies Tabitha anymore is the medical field.”

Grit’s submissive/fiancée was a barrel full of conflict, passion, aggression, and insanity. She had a few triggers, but like Tamsyn, she possessed a deep-seated fear of doctors and medicine stemming from her past.

“Iatrophobia,” Merrick said impatiently. “I’m hoping this mutism is temporary, some weird side effect from an overload of stress. The fuck do I know, I’m not a doctor. We can protect her better once she tells us what happened. Until then, I’ll keep asking questions and translating her answers as best I can.”

“Bet you have some fun conversations,” Grit murmured absently, his fingers clacking at record speed on his laptop. The guy did nothing but stare at screens all day and half the night. “Okay, I’ve got a yes from my contact.”

“Already?”