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Shit. Mike needed to focus. His only thought had been to get on the road and start scouring for a white Chevy. But he knew that was crap. They didn’t even know which direction the assholes took.
Mike shuddered in a deep breath and faced the people he trusted most to help.
“She was drugged, and dumped into the trunk of a white Chevy Malibu.” He rattled off the plate number, his brain starting to function again. “The bartender saw it all, and had the wherewithal to not only call me, but to detain a fourth man who’d been sitting with the group.” He only had the identity of three, but he hoped whoever they’d left behind at the bar would have valuable intel to share.
“I’m on him.” Cisco turned to the group. “Sandrine. Talia. You’re with me.”
The trio boogied across the lot and jumped into his truck, tires squealing as they peeled out, headed to the Local Moose.
“What else.” Mason urged Mike to concentrate.
“I—” Was there any more to share?
Fuck, yes there was.
“Joelle gave me the description of a warehouse somewhere west of here where the group’s xylazine is synthesized. And…” His breathing sped up as he extracted his phone once again, and stabbed at it with his index finger. “…she gave me access to an app. It tracks the vehicles she’s tagged. One of whom is Mel, the other being Benji.”
He brought up the screen, and?—
“What the fuck?”
There were three blips on the map.
“I’m getting three signals. Two are static at the bar. One is marked killer, which has to be Mel. One is called semi. That’s the tractor she tagged. But the final vehicle… It’s on the move. West. It has to be the car she’s in, doesn’t it?” He turned his hopeful gaze to Mason.
“Sounds like it to me. Where do you think it’s headed?”
“Maybe toward the warehouse Joe told me about?” Mike speculated. “I don’t have an exact location for that piece-of-shit place, but…” His fingers were on the move again. “She installed cameras.” Mike brought up that app, and video of the rusty structure came on-line. He turned his phone to the group. “Anybody recognize this place?”
Amos didn’t hesitate. “Yup. It’s remote. Off Old Bay Path. I’ve done some tracking near there.”
“That’s got to be where they’re taking her,” Briar interjected. “Unless they have a shack or something in the same direction where they might be staying.”
Mason immediately shook his head, looking to be on sure footing. “Benji and his wife live in town, and we’ll check if they own anything in the boonies, but I doubt it. Galici lives southeast of here in a big-ass house in Ellesworth. He’s into enjoying the high life, so there’s no way he’d hole-up in a cabin.”
“What about Banito?” Welker asked.
“Questionable. He lives in Orono, and he’s always short on cash because he gambles, but it’s possible he might own a piece-of-shit property.”
“I’ll call Opal and get her on all three,” Alvero said.
Opal was one of the team’s techies, and she’d hack whatever databases she needed to find out if any of the men owned real estate outside of their known residences, and dig into anything else about them that might be pertinent.
“I’m going to the warehouse,” Mike growled, watching the dot move steadily westward on the map.
“We’re all going to the warehouse,” Mason corrected, also bringing up a map and looking at his phone. After a moment, he turned to his team leaders. “Call in your squads. Everyone will meet up a mile east of the warehouse, here.” He stabbed his finger at a point on the map, then shared it to everyone with a few clicks. “We’ll go in on foot from there.”
Mike nodded, then turned to walk away.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mason barked after him.
“To get my woman.” Mike didn’t hesitate to verbally claim Joelle. As far as he was concerned, they belonged to each other, and the sooner his team knew that, the better.
“We know she’s yours.” Mason softened his voice. “What I meant is, you’re in no condition to drive.”
Mike looked down at his hands and saw they were shaking.
“See?” Mason said knowingly. “Now get your ass in my truck, and that’s an order.”