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He could see the guilt in her eyes, the weight of her own sense of responsibility for the mission’s outcome.
She backed away. “Paul’s got the best of the best searching for him. You and your team can do anything. You know that.”
“Lord willing,” he whispered the fragment of a prayer. Of a plea.
Paige chose that moment to burst into the room, laptop in hand. Fenn and the others followed.
“We have another problem,” Paige said. “Before we headed out, I started a search on the informant who tipped off the FBI about the footage of Mason and Avery taking those packages. It was Lars Stenberg.”
“The company owner?” Fenn pressed a hand to the top of his head. “That makes no sense.”
No. It didn’t. Mason’s stomach clenched. This case was getting weirder by the second.
And Paul was dead center.
Desperation surged through him, a wild, reckless need to do something, anything, to save his brother. But even as he opened his mouth to speak, he realized the truth. They had no leads. No clues. No way of knowing where Paul had been taken or who had him.
All they knew was that the trucking company’s owner had caught on to their investigation. And he’d made sure Avery’s supervisor knew it, too.
“Maybe Stenberg’s not involved in a bad way,” Tai speculated. “Could be he wants the FBI to shut down the operation.”
Graham palmed an apple. “Or he senses he’s on a sinking ship and wants to cooperate so he won’t face prosecution.”
Avery shot Mason a look. “Whatever the reason, we can probably cross Stenberg off the list of kidnappers. Alerting Ryan only increased Bureau scrutiny on his company. Not exactly the move of a criminal genius.”
“Agreed.” Mason fingered the folding knife in his front pocket, aching to take action. Eliminating a suspect was progress, no matter how miniscule. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
He slipped away from the group, his feet carrying him out onto the balcony overlooking the city. The night air was cool against his skin, the sounds of the city distant and muffled. He leaned against the railing, his head bowed and his eyes closed as he tried to steady his racing heart.
He could feel himself slipping, retreating into that dark, lonely space he had been so many times before. The guilt and self-recrimination were like a physical ache, a pain that throbbed in his chest with every beat of his heart.
Once they had Paul back, he would have to face his own inner demons, the ones that whispered to him in the night and urged him to violence.
But for now, he had to be strong. For Paul, for Avery, for his team. He had to keep it together, to focus on the mission and the people who needed him.
He had to focus on finding his baby brother.
26
After Paige droppedthat bombshell about Stenberg’s actions, the team quickly dispersed, as if Mason’s friends were desperate to avoid the cloud of emotion, by drowning their feelings in work.
Avery knew the feeling well. But she didn’t have a specialty. She wasn’t even part of their team. Alone in the vast living room, she perched on the edge of a sleek couch. Even the spectacular view of Lake Washington seemed off, dimmed by the oppressive, low-hanging clouds.
She clasped her hands tightly in her lap as she tried to quell the rising tide of guilt and fear that threatened to overwhelm her. The group was scattered throughout Bridger’s futuristic mansion, each member silently going about their specific chores with a focused intensity that was both reassuring and unsettling.
Despite how she’d urged Mason not to wallow in guilt, she wasn’t doing a great job of taking her own advice. The operation played out in her mind, frame by frame. If only she hadn’t urged Mason to bring Paul. She should have dredged up enough evidence against Rain Bay after that first mechanic contacted her.
Her eyes drifted to Mason, who was pacing the terrace outside like a caged animal, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard with a silent, simmering rage. If she thought he was competent before, now she saw his deadly side in full force. It was equal parts frightening and reassuring, the way he seemed to have a wall around him, totally in professional mode with no emotions except for the barely-contained fury that radiated off him in waves.
She wondered how much of that anger was directed at her. She deserved every ounce of it and more.
She wanted to go to him, to offer some kind of comfort or apology, but before she could move, Graham appeared at her side.
He grabbed her arm gently. “Now’s not the best time. The guy needs space. Trust me. I’ve been where he is now. Nothing you say is going to help. You’ll only be putting yourself in the crosshairs.”
The man was right, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch Mason suffer in silence. Once convinced she’d stay put, Graham patted her arm and headed for the kitchen.
Suddenly, her phone chirped, breaking the heavy silence. She pulled it out with shaking hands. The video was grainy and soundless, but the image was clear enough—Paul, bound and gagged in an empty cargo container, his face bruised and his eyes wide with fear.