Page 9 of Tango (Hunt Brothers Search & Rescue #4)

Tucker

“ C an you give me a bit more insight into what happened last night?” I ask the Sterlings as we head outside and sit on the front porch.

They’d locked up a bit once Frank arrived, but my hope is that a change of scenery will help move things along.

I can’t help but feel as though we’re running out of time, and the last thing I want is to bring their daughter home in a body bag.

“You said Alice had been shot and that she’d shown up at your house, looking for help. ”

“Yes. She showed up in shock. Her eyes were wide, her face pale—she was soaking wet because of the rain.” Jemma takes a deep breath. “We barely had a chance to get her seated at the table before those men were banging on our door.”

“Alice panicked. Said she needed to leave, but we convinced her to hide down in the basement,” Fred adds.

“Did they not search the house?” I question.

“They did, but we had to have some maintenance work done under the house, and instead of backfilling it with more dirt, they created a little shaft around the joint that broke. It’s a small concrete room barely big enough for her to hide in but perfectly hidden from view,” he tells me.

“Who blocked the door?” When they both stare at me, I continue, “When I got there, I had to move a coffee cart that was wedged beneath the door handle, locking her inside.”

They both stare at each other. “We didn’t do that,” Jemma says.

“Maybe they shoved it in front of the door?” Fred questions.

I doubt two bruisers would have taken the time to block the door to an empty room, but I don’t say it out loud. The truth is, Alice being locked in that basement is likely the only reason she’s still alive.

“Walk me through what they said to you.”

Jemma and Fred exchange glances; then Fred clears his throat. “They demanded to know where Alice was. Said that she was a murderer and on the verge of committing treason.”

“Treason?” I arch a brow.

“Yes. When I pressed, they wouldn’t tell me why, just told me that, if I were harboring a murderer, I could get into a lot of trouble.” He looks over at Jemma. “That’s when they forced their way into the house.”

“How long before I got there?” I know it wasn’t long since Alice was just starting to try to come out of the basement—maybe minutes, if that—but I need a time stamp. Every detail counts.

“Less than five minutes,” Jemma replies. “Or maybe right at five minutes.” She shakes her head. “It felt like hours. But they’d had time to do a quick search of the house. When they went down into the basement, I thought it was over. But God shielded our little girl.”

I think of the coffee cart wedged tightly beneath the handle. Yes, I believe He did.

“I can understand that.” I offer her a smile then make another note on my notepad, jotting down the treason angle as well as the estimated timeline. “Once they were inside, what happened?”

“One of them hit Jemma,” Fred growls, his gaze landing on his wife.

“I lunged for them, and they grabbed me. Started hitting me and telling us that things were only going to get more difficult if we weren’t honest. Then that picture broke, and he sent his partner toward you.

” He glances over at Tango, who is happily eating some kibble my mom put in a bowl for him.

“I’ve never seen an animal move that fast. The second you gave the order, he was like a blur. ”

“Tango’s the best,” I reply, pride warming my chest.

“And the shot you took—that seemed impossible. I heard that gun go off, and I thought Jemma was—” Fred tears up. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. It was a tense moment. Duck joke aside.”

“Duck joke?” Frank questions.

“My way of lightening the mood while also getting Jemma out of the way,” I reply.

“Thank you for saving us,” Fred says. “I can’t even remember if either of us thanked you. But thank you. ”

“No need to thank me, Mr. Sterling.”

“Please call me Fred.”

“Fred.” I offer him a friendly smile. “Now, you said they accused Alice of being a murderer. Do you believe it was because of the partner of theirs she killed in that alley? Or—” I trail off and glance at Frank, who’s standing near the front door, completely silent. “Ramiro?”

“We don’t know. But I do know that Alice would never hurt Ramiro. They were best friends. They started going to church together, did trivia night?—”

“Ramiro started going to church?” Frank asks.

Jemma nods. “Alice had been trying to get him to join her for months, and he’d finally agreed. They’d gone two, maybe, three Sundays.”

Frank’s expression softens, and I can see the weight of their words settling over him like a warm blanket.

His nephew was finding his way to God, and that’s something Frank can take back to his sister.

Hopefully, a little peace will come from knowing that—if it turns out that Ramiro Caine is truly gone.

“Alice is such a good girl. She had such a rough start, but she’s a good kid,” Fred says, taking his wife’s hand in his. “There’s not a violent bone in her body. You have to believe us.”

“I believe there’s more to this story,” I tell them, mirroring what I told Frank.

“And I intend to uncover the truth. No matter how hard it is.” My hope is that they read between the lines.

I don’t believe Alice is a murderer, but if she is, I won’t shield them from it.

“Is there anywhere Alice might go to lie low? Any favorite places?”

The Sterlings look at each other for a moment.

“If you don’t tell me, and Web Safe gets to her first?—”

“Lake Tahoe,” they say in unison.

“There’s a small cabin up there on King’s Beach. We took her there the month after adopting her and went back every year until she was eighteen. It’s her favorite place in the world.”

“Can you give me the address for the cabin?”

“I can. It’s saved in my phone.” He reaches into his pocket and withdraws his cell phone. After pulling up the information, he offers it to me. “Feel free to send it to yourself.”

“I will, thanks.”

“Mr. Hunt, Alice is a good kid. She’s strong, smart, resilient—but she’s not unbreakable. After losing Ramiro, and now this—we’re worried.”

“Tucker,” I correct then fire off a text to myself before promising, “and I’ll find her.”

I just hope I’m not too late.

Jemma looks over at Frank. “You must know that Alice would never have hurt Ramiro.”

“I’m not sure what to believe,” Frank replies honestly. “Though I have to admit, I don’t believe your daughter is behind it.”

“We adored Ramiro,” Jemma says. “He came to Alice’s last birthday party, and we had the pleasure of meeting him.”

“Thank you. He’s a good kid,” Frank says. His phone dings, so he pulls it out of his pocket and checks the message. When he looks back at me, his expression has turned furious. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Tucker?”

“Sure. Excuse us.” I offer the Sterlings a smile then follow Frank down the steps and toward his truck. As he always does, Tango follows me. “What is it?”

“Those FBI agents that took custody of your two bruisers? Not FBI.”

“You’re sure?”

He nods. “I called my contact on the way here, and he just sent me a message saying that the names and badge numbers belong to legitimate agents, both of whom were at the field office when Detective Simmons said he was forced to hand over custody.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” I shake my head and place both hands on my hips. “Alaric said he even called to verify that they were agents.”

“They must have somehow controlled where the call went. Is that possible?”

I nod. “Unfortunately, they could have rerouted it.” I take a deep breath. “Okay. So they’re out and likely know that the Sterlings are with me.”

“We need to move them,” Frank says. “I have some safe houses I can take them to. Places where no one will find them.”

Bradyn’s truck pulls up in front of my parents’ house, and he climbs out of the driver’s side while Elliot gets out of the passenger seat. A beat later, Riley steps out of the back, along with Bravo, Echo, and Romeo—their three service dogs.

“What is it?” Bradyn asks, his superpower clearly picking up on the issue.

“Two bruisers I apprehended in California were just taken out of an LAPD interview room by men posing as FBI agents.”

“That’s problematic,” Elliot says.

“Guess we got here at the right time,” Riley replies, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“We have a bigger problem. They’re after Alice Sterling and likely know that I’m the one who has her parents. It’ll only be a matter of time before they trace them here.”

“I was just telling Tucker I can take them to a safe house,” Frank offers.

“Won’t matter,” Elliot says. As always, his baseball cap is on backward. He crosses both arms. “They’ll suspect they’re here and come anyway. Better we keep them here where we can protect them.”

Frank nods. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

“Get with Bradyn,” I tell him. “I’m heading out as soon as possible to see if I can track Alice down and get her off the map before Web Safe finds her.” I glance back at the Sterlings, who are watching us intently from the porch swing.

“Take Dylan,” Bradyn says. “These guys are going to know you’re coming now, and it won’t hurt to have backup.”

“Will do.”

Pine Creek’s church is small, but the presence of God here is mighty.

I can feel Him every time I walk through these doors, like a secure blanket closing around me.

Before every mission, I make my way here to pray and just sit in the silence with God.

It’s my way of filling up my soul before the darkness I will undoubtedly see tries to drain me.

We are what we surround ourselves with—I believe that.

So here I sit, surrounding myself with so much light I can cling to it even when the darkness tries to swallow me up.

This time feels different though.

I can’t place my finger on it, but Alice Sterling is weighing heavier on me than anyone else I’ve gone after. Is it the mystery? Or something else?

“Tucker Hunt. What a pleasure.” Pastor Ford comes out of the hallway that leads to the church offices and makes his way down the aisle toward the pew I’m sitting in.

“Afternoon, Pastor,” I greet.

“You doing okay?” he questions, getting straight to the point. It’s something I’ve always admired about the man. He always knows when something’s going on and won’t hesitate to help in any way he can.

“I’m struggling a bit, but I’m not sure why.”

He rests his arm on the back of the pew and turns to face me. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m leaving tonight to go after a woman who’s being targeted by her employer. They claim she’s a murderer and about to commit treason. But I’m not sure I believe them.”

“Interesting.”

“She did kill a man in self-defense. He was attempting to abduct her, and she fought back. It looks as though he fell backward onto a piece of rebar, and she called 9-1-1 for help.”

“I wouldn’t say she’d be considered a murderer, then. If it was in self-defense. She took a life, yes, but not because she chose to.”

“Exactly.” I take a deep breath. “I’ve been on probably close to a hundred missions now. Not even counting the ones I went on when I was in the service, and this feels—” I trail off. “Heavier somehow.”

“Is it the woman?”

“What?”

“Have you met her before? The woman.”

“Briefly. When I rescued her parents.”

“Then is it her that’s staying with you? Or the mission details?”

“It’s her,” I admit. “She looks—haunted. But there’s this light, I just—I can’t explain it.” I smile. “I probably sound crazy. I met her for five minutes, and I can’t get her out of my head.”

“Not crazy at all.” He smiles softly at me. “God’s plan is a mystery to us all. And if you’re the one who will be bringing this woman to safety, then it makes sense that you’d feel a pull toward her.”

“Her parents insist she’s not violent. That everything they’re saying about her is a lie.”

“What do you believe?”

“Them,” I reply without hesitation. “I think she’s in more trouble than even I realize though. There’s this gnawing in my gut that things are about to get a whole lot worse before they get better.”

“They always do,” Pastor Ford replies. “After all, who can truly appreciate tranquil waters if they’ve never lived through a storm?”