Page 42

H ot and exhausted, I remove my baseball cap and withdraw my red bandanna from the back pocket of my jeans. After wiping the lake of sweat that’s formed on my forehead, I stick the bandanna back into my pocket and replace my baseball cap.

Despite the fact that it’s only eight in the morning, it’s already nearly a hundred degrees out here in the hot summer sun. Thank you, Texas. Still, even though it feels as though I’m standing on the surface of the sun, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

After making a secure loop with one end of a broken barbed wire strand, I attach the fence stretcher and crank it down. I tighten it until I can slip the new wire through the loop of the once broken strand then let the fence stretcher hold it while I use pliers to fully join the two pieces.

As soon as it’s secure, I undo the stretcher and step back to survey my work. “Good work, huh, Tango?” I glance back at my dog, who has been watching happily from shade cast by the utility vehicle we’d driven out here first thing this morning.

He tilts his head to the side, ears perked. “That’s what I think, too, bud,” I reply then retrieve my tools and stick them in the bed of the vehicle. After taking a swig of my water, I hop into the driver seat.

“ Hier , Tango,” I order, using the German commands my dog, and my brothers’ dogs, are all trained with. It’s a lot easier to ensure the dog will do his job when you can be sure the average person won’t know the commands.

Less confusion for the dog, more security for us.

He hops into the UTV, so I fire up the engine then start driving the fence line, looking for any other holes. Unfortunately, broken fences are just a part of life on a ranch. As is pre-dawn mornings and—occasionally—late nights.

I don’t mind either, though, because this place is my home. Happiness in a world filled with chaos and, unfortunately, darkness.

Ahead, I offer a wave to two of our ranch hands, Leon—who’s been here since I was a kid, and Keith—who just started work here last month. They’re both on horseback and riding through the pastures, checking on the cattle.

I crest the top of a hill and stop for just a moment, taking in the breathtaking view of the four-bedroom, cabin-style ranch house I built on my parents’ land about seven years ago.

Before then, I’d been staying in a rental house I shared with my brother Riley and my twin, Dylan.

Five out of six of us own houses here on the property, and Lani—my younger sister—has property prepped for her whenever she’s ready.

All with my parent’s house at the center of our ranch, just as they are the heart of our family.

With a smile on my face, I head down the hill, beyond ready for a fresh cup of coffee and one of the muffins my mom dropped off yesterday. I can practically taste the blueberries already. But as I get closer and see who’s waiting on my porch, my hope of a quiet morning vanishes.

Time to work.

After parking my UTV in front of my garage, I climb out and call Tango to follow.

“Well, this is a surprise,” I say as I climb the steps and greet my oldest brother, Bradyn, as well as Frank Loyotta, the owner of Find Me, an organization run by veterans.

Their mission is to track down and stop human traffickers while rescuing as many as they can.

We’ve helped them out quite a few times, just as he’s used his resources to help us out when things get—for lack of a better word—dicey.

“I’m sorry to drop in on you like this, Tucker,” Frank says, holding out his hand. I shake it then move past them to open the door. His expression is a lot less joyful than it usually is, and I note the dark circles beneath his eyes.

“Not a problem, Frank. Come on in.” The blast of AC is beyond welcoming. Tango immediately runs to his water bowl and drinks happily as I take a bottle of tea from my fridge. “So, what can I do for you?” I ask.

Bradyn crosses his arms. His expression is somber at best, and my unease grows. Not much puts that look on my brother’s face.

“What is it?” I ask again.

“I need help,” Frank says. “My nephew is missing.” His voice is strained, as though each and every word is a fight to get out. Because I know that sometimes the hardest parts of these conversations are getting through the beginning, I don’t ask any details—yet.

Frank removes an aged cowboy hat and runs a hand through his short, graying hair. “Ramiro was a good kid; he had some trouble here and there, but he’s been getting through it.” Tears burn in his eyes. “He works for Web Safe as a threat analysis expert.”

“The cyber security company?” I ask, mentally running through everything I know about the Los Angeles-based security company.

It was started up fifteen years ago and quickly gained a reputation for its intense security measures.

Mainly because they hired a team of hackers to try and break into the system.

They all failed.

I didn’t, of course. But I wasn’t after prize money; I just did it to see if I could. And since I was able to, I anonymously submitted my findings. After waiting a month for them to fix it, I broke in again.

“Yes. He’s been there for the past five years and is darn good at his job.” He closes his eyes a moment then takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Come and have a seat.” I gesture toward my dining room table, so he and Bradyn take seats. After grabbing the notepad I keep on my counter for random thoughts, I sit as well. “Tell me what you need from me.”

“The last contact my sister had with him was three days ago. He said he was going to a trivia night at a local library with a friend of his. When he didn’t show up for their planned dinner the next night, she tried to call him. Went to his place—all of that, and—nothing. It’s like he vanished.”

“The friend?”

He clears his throat. “Alice Sterling. She also works for Web Safe, though she’s in a different department.”

“What department is that?”

“According to my sister, Ramiro used to joke that it was his job to break stuff and hers to fix it.”

“Got it.”

“My sister tried calling her, too, but she’s not answering. I even called her folks, but they said they haven’t heard from her either and had filed a missing person’s report with the local police.”

“So we have two missing security experts and no clues,” I summarize, making a note on my notepad.

“You can see why I came here.”

“Any chance they just ran off together?” I hate asking it because chances are Frank has already looked into it, but it’s part of my job. I need all the facts before I can properly come to a conclusion.

“They weren’t romantic as far as I could tell. And, according to my sister, he took nothing with him. His suitcase is still in his closet, all his clothes—his car is even in the parking lot of his apartment building since the library is within walking distance.”

“So it’s unlikely they ran off,” Bradyn comments.

“Did you talk to Web Safe?”

He nods. “They were my first call, but all they said was the two of them hadn’t shown up for work or called in. They said they have no idea why, either. That both of them were good workers and Alice Sterling had never missed a day. They wouldn’t give me any other information.”

“Even if they knew something, it’s unlikely they would get involved without warrant explicitly ordering them to,” I say, considering just how big of a panic it would cause if the clients discovered two high-level employees simply didn’t show up for work.

Banks, billion-dollar companies…the list goes on and on.

There’s even been talk about the government using them on a contract basis for certain missions.

“I’m flying out there tomorrow morning to be with my sister and see what I can find, but you guys are the best at finding something from nothing, and I really need help here.”

“I’ll take the case,” I tell Frank. Since my brothers and I all operate on a rotation, and Riley just got back from mission, I’m next up.

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Frank. You know we’ll always support you in any way we can. You said you’re flying out tomorrow morning?”

He nods. “Send me the flight information. I’d like to grab a ticket and join you—if that’s okay.”

“Of course. It’s on one of our company’s private planes, so there is no need for a ticket. I’ll get your name on the flight log. Plane is wheels up at 0700.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

He nods. “Thanks again. I-I’m really hoping for some good news here, guys, but I have this sinking feeling in my gut that something horrible happened.

My sister’s barely spoken since she called me—she’s worried sick.

In my line of work, I’ve seen some horrific things.

” He shakes his head sadly. “But I never thought I’d experience this so close to home. ”

Bradyn clasps a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find answers,” he assures Frank. “Do you know if Ramiro had any other friends who worked for the company?”

“A few he talked about, but none he was as close to as Alice.”

“Can you get me those names? Places he liked to go? The name or address of the library he went to? Anything might help.”

He nods. “I’ll call my sister and see if I can get her to email all of that over.”

“Great. Give me a few hours, and I should have something to report back.”

“Thank you.” Frank takes a deep breath. He’s one of the best men I know, completely dedicated to saving the innocent, and to see him suffering absolutely crushes me. Even though I know all too well that good men suffer.

Some die far too soon.

Others face realities worse than death. No, that stays buried. I shove the memory down and force my attention back on Frank.

“No need to thank us,” Bradyn replies as he stands. Frank does the same.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I have something.” I shake his hand again.

“I appreciate that,” he replies sadly. “I’m headed back to Dallas right now to pack, but I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sounds good.”

Frank offers me a tight nod.

“I’ll walk you out.” Bradyn opens the front door and follows Frank out, but I know that he’ll be back in as soon as the man is in his truck.

I glance down the hall toward my bedroom where my shower is waiting. But even as badly as I want to rinse the dirt and sweat from my skin, the shower can wait. A missing persons case cannot.

I head into the kitchen and wash the dirt and sweat from my hands then get the coffee pot started. Tango is already passed out on his bed, and I can’t help but grin. For a dog who can be so intense, he’s also a giant goof.

Leaving the coffee pot to do its thing, I take my notepad and head down the hall toward my office. After pushing inside, I hit the light then turn on my computer. It hums to life, and the trio of monitors on my desk come on a second later.

As the computer does its thing and wakes up, I glance up at the wall of screens across from my desk. The center one is a projection screen I use for mission briefs. Surrounding it are nearly a dozen smaller monitors I use to monitor security here at the ranch.

While the property is too large to cover every inch of it, we make sure we have cameras on everyone’s homes—just in case.

As soon as my computer is on its log on screen, I sit down in front and type in my credentials then open up a program I’m not technically supposed to have access to.

Starting with our original missing person, I type “Ramiro Caine” into the search bar and hit enter.

As it scrapes all known databases and social media accounts for information on Frank’s nephew, I pull up Web Safe’s site.

“Here.” Bradyn offers me a cup of coffee as he steps into my office.

“Thanks, brother. Didn’t even hear you come back in.”

“That’s because you never hear anything once you’re behind a screen,” he replies with a grin.

He’s got me there. My twin, Dylan, jokes that my brain is part computer, and whenever I sit down in front of one, it’s as though I’m ‘plugging in’. Chaos could be erupting around me, and I’d never even know.

The hot coffee slips down my throat, and I nearly groan in delight. There’s not much quite like that first sip of caffeine. Since I avoid it for the first ninety minutes of every day, this is my first cup.

“You have a chance to look into this case at all yet?” I ask Bradyn.

“Not yet. Frank called about fifteen minutes before you got here and asked me to meet him here. I didn’t find out until I arrived that he was here for more personal reasons.”

Ramiro’s information hits, pulling up a driver’s license photograph of a man in his late twenties, dark hair, brown eyes—as well as a series of minor traffic violations. Overall, his record is clean.

Leaving that window readily available, I open another one and type in Alice Sterling’s name.

Since she was close to Ramiro—a girlfriend maybe?

—it’s possible she’s either with him or knows what happened to him and is hiding.

If I can track her down, I might be able to find the truth a whole lot faster than waiting around while trying to scan thousands of cameras all over L.A.

“What are your initial thoughts?” I ask Bradyn, turning my chair so I can see him.

Bradyn sets his coffee down on my desk and crosses his arms. I know from experience that he is processing all available information and running through different scenarios before responding.

“I don’t know that I believe they ran off together. Something about that theory just doesn’t sit right.”

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t have at least packed a suitcase if they’d left voluntarily.”

“Exactly.”

“Unless they left in a hurry.” I consider.

“Two people, relatively high up in a cyber security company that protects information where top-tier clearance levels are required to even breathe, disappear without a trace, and the company is quiet about it.” I say then decide to ask the hard question.

“Do you think it’s possible that they were involved in something illegal? ”

“I hope not. But, no matter what the outcome is—or who it will hurt—we find the truth.”