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“Okay, that is a mental image I did not need to have, thank you.”
Still, my lips twitched at his deadpan.
“But you have a point.” One he didn’t like. “Talk to me about ambushing him?”
“If you were responsible for someone vanishing, and it’s been—” I faltered, time slipping through my fingers like water. “Months. What would you do if they just walked into your restaurant? Your office? Some fundraiser?”
“I punched Reznik in the face,” he said flatly, sparing me a glance. “I thought he was dead. Now Iknowhe is. We’re not letting some asshole just punch you in the face.”
“I appreciate that,” I said. “But?—”
“Nobut.”
“Yes,but,” I countered, popping the word like a balloon. “His reaction could tell us everything. If he’s hiding something, we’ll see it in that first moment. We only get one shot at shocking him. I can dress like her. Pretend tobeher. Walk right up and watch him crack.”
He said nothing as we chewed up the miles. I had no idea where in Montana this so-called base was, only that it wasn’t close enough to fly. That meant road time—lots of it.
When his fingers started drumming faster on the steering wheel, I braced for the coming storm.
“I hate this idea,” he muttered finally. No elaboration needed.
I licked my lips, waited a beat longer. “But?”
“But it could work,” he admitted. “It could give us answers. And if hedoesknow something… he’s an attorney. Not a soldier. He won’t last long once we start asking the right questions.”
No, he wouldn’t. A dark thread of satisfaction coiled in my chest. If he’d had a hand in what happened to her—if he’d hurt her—I might even enjoy watching him squirm.
“I need to know, AB.” My voice was soft, almost swallowed by the engine. Grief painted every syllable.
“I know, Gracie.” His sigh was heavier than his words. “We’ll loop the others in. No way we’re running off half-cocked while they’re on mission. Bones would kill me.”
“He wouldn’t kill you.”
“He’d make mewishI was dead—and he’d be right.” Alphabet threw me a flat look. “That said, we can scout the perfect spot for the ambush, do more recon, and pull some data from his devices. I’ve been a little… distracted.”
“You’ve been doing a hell of a lot,” I reminded him. “This is just the next step.”
“Gracie…” He sighed again, softer this time, covering my hand with his. “We’ll figure it out.”
His phone chimed. He picked it up, glancing at the screen. Several messages flickered by. Then he tapped a button and the car filled with the sterile tones of an automated voice.
“To check your messages: press one.”
He hit the one without looking.
“Please enter your pin and box number followed by the pound sign.”
His fingers danced over the keys. I chewed my bottom lip, nerves twisting. Was it the team? Had something gone wrong?
“You have one new message. Press one to?—”
He didn’t let it finish. Just pressed one again.
A man’s voice filled the car—frayed, worn thin.“I need help. Call me when you get this.”Then he rattled off a number. The message ended.
“Press one to replay the message, two to delete?—”
He hit one again.