Page 74

By the time we arrive at Miami International and detour to the maintenance section, my nerves have cranked up so high, adrenaline is making my hands tremble. This far away from the main airport there are few security checks, but when a solitary security guard waves us through as though expecting us, it’s apparent Hightower really does have everything covered.

Jake comes to a sliding stop outside a building marked “903,” jerking me against the restraints. My heart leaps to my throat as two men appear, both around the same height, both dressed in camo gear, boots, and aviator shades, but only one has a radio and visible weapons strapped to his body.

Unsure of whether to exit, I wait for Mick to give me direction. Rather than leave me floundering, he immediately climbs out and opens my door for me. While his posture is tense, the protective hand he places on my back once again brings reassurance while my world is collapsing. He’s something solid and tangible.

The man I guess is Silas speaks first, extending his hand to Mick before his eyes flick to me. This is the do-or-die moment, so while Mick shakes the hand of the other man, who identifies himself as Reese, I freeze as Silas casts his eyes over me. He doesn’t say a word to me, just tells Jake to hide the car around the back then gestures for us to follow him and Reese inside.

With Mick at my side, I step into the building, instinctively scanning for exits. The air is dry and metallic, thick with the scent of rust, old fuel, and something acrid I can’t name. The space is cavernous—an abandoned aircraft hangar with faded hazard signs peeling off the walls and a roof that groans every time the wind picks up.

Barrels of chemicals are stacked along one side, their labels faded or scraped off entirely. They sit beneath a grimy window layered with cobwebs and dust so thick it filters the daylight into a dull haze. A folding table has been shoved against the wall—on it, a battered laptop hums beside tangled cords, stripped radios, and what looks like surplus military gear.

Silas perches casually on one of the barrels.

“Good news. Caleb has Brooke’s location.”

Mick lets out a breath before running his hand over his face. While it is good news, based on their body language, neither Reese nor Silas are telling Mick the whole truth.

“What’s the bad news?” I ask.

Reese eyes me before answering. “There’s only one way in.”

Mick slumps against the wall as Silas speaks. “They haven’t made contact again, and they haven’t left the area. These are all good signs they’ll negotiate.”

“Where are they holding her?” Mick asks.

“They’re holed up in a house in the Everglades,” Silas says.

Mick squints at the laptop, where a map of the area has been enlarged and magnified. AnXhas been placed where Caleb has located Brooke.

I point out the obvious since no one seems to mind my speaking. “That’s sitting right on Lake Okeechobee. The entire area is wetlands.”

Beside me, Mick nods. “They probably have a boat slip.”

Silas folds his arms across his chest and nods. “We’ll have confirmation just as soon as Delilah has access to the satellite imagery.”

Jake walks in, his whistle echoing and grating on my nerves.

Silas catches his attention. “I need you to get on the phone to a Realtor.”

Reese interrupts by tapping the screen. “If they hired a seaplane, it’s twenty minutes to Chokoloskee Bay. I’ll make some calls and go see if I can find out.”

As Reese walks away, Mick’s back stiffens. “You think that’s their plan? Hire a charter again, finish what they started?” he asks Silas.

Before Silas can answer, I risk a theory of my own. “If they planned to martyr themselves and blow something up, they would have done it by now.”

Silas’s lips twitch, but he gestures for me to continue, so I clear my throat and go on. “Running around Miami wearing out-of-state uniforms is just moronic. People would have noticed them. Othercopswould have noticed them. It’s almost like they wanted to get the attention.”

Silas scratches his chin stubble. “You’re thinking about howyou’dact. That doesn’t apply here.”

“Why not?”

“Because evil doesn’t play by your rules. It doesn’t have to make sense.”

I almost laugh—until Mick lets out a low growl.

“So how do we fight that?” I ask.

Silas’s jaw tightens. “By remembering we’re not just dealing with people. There’s something darker behind this.”