Page 111 of Saving His Heart

“Bull shit,” I yell.

“I know,” Seth sighs. “We know that’s not the case, so I’m going to need your resources to bring him home. I can’t do it on my own,” he admits it as if the words wound him.

Ashton crosses the room first. “You have whatever you need at your fingertips. If you don’t have it, ask, and I’ll get it for you. Colt, grab the board. Let’s map this out.”

A second later, Colt is dragging a whiteboard into the room.

“We know he pinged a quarter-mile from ground zero three days after the explosion,” Seth informs us, putting a pin on the map he just hung for us all to see and labeling it with the letter A. “His second ping was eight days later in Clinton, Pennsylvania.”

“What’s a ping?” Sloane whispers to Easton. I can recognize the instant he realizes he grabbed the wrong seat.

“A ping is a signal sent straight to HQ. It lets us know he is alive but not much else because the pings are retroactive. Meaning Loki is long gone by the time they go live.”

“So, he’s like a real-life super spy?”

“Jesus,” East grumbles. “I guess.”

Seth makes no effort to hide his annoyance. “Then nothing. For three weeks, we heard nothing. Five days ago, he pinged in Preston, Maryland. Loki would have known the agency wouldn’t be following him anymore, so I have to assume he sent this one for us.”

Ashton places another pin in Maryland, then ties a string labeling Pennsylvania B and Maryland, C.

“And just now, he pinged again in Hancock, Tennessee.”

Ash ties another string with the letter D attached to it. “Loki’s definitely sending a message,” he says, stepping back from the map. “Clinton was our father’s name. Then there’s Preston, but what the hell is Hancock?”

“If you turn your head, it kind of looks like the letter U,” Sloane says softly. Without warning, we all tilt our heads, too.

“Or the start of a W,” Ashton counters.

“Five points West,” Easton and I say together.

“Holy shit,” Ashton murmurs.

“What? What the hell does this mean?” Seth yells.

“Our father always said there are five points in West. He would count the points of a W and said there was one for each of us. Take one away, and you only have U. He likened it to the ‘no I in team’ adage. He told us all if we were ever in trouble, to count on the five points. When Loki moved in with us, he used to joke that he would have to change our name to something with six points,” I explain.

“I don’t understand. So you’re saying Loki’s in trouble?”

“That’s my best guess.”What kind of trouble are you in, Loki? Why haven’t you called?

“Let’s assume he is giving us a signal. What does Hancock have to do with any of this?” he asks.

We all sit in silence until Halton stands suddenly. “Loki’s nanny. The one who used to drive him everywhere. She moved to Hancock after he moved in with us.”

“Are you sure?”I don’t remember anything about a nanny.

“Yes, I’m sure. I remember because after we finished decorating his room at our house, he talked about her, and I couldn’t stop laughing. For a ten-year-old boy, Hancock is a pretty fucking hilarious name.”

“You know, I think he is right. What was her name?” my mother thinks out loud.

“Her name was Claire,” Halton grumbles.

“How the fuck do you remember that?”

“Because there was a Claire in my class that year, and she drove me nuts,” he says.

“Claire? Who lives in Hancock? That’s all we have to go on?” Seth asks. His anger is bubbling just below the surface. “How many fucking people live in Hancock, Tennessee?”