Page 51 of Valor (Long Hot Summer: Christian Romantic Suspense #2)

GIBSON

“There has to be something we’re missing.” I lean forward and study the footage Tucker scrubbed again. It wasn’t altered, wasn’t changed, but we can’t see anything but a hooded figure.

Tucker shakes his head in frustration. “Whoever did this knew where those cameras were and how to avoid them.”

“They also knew when the best time to take the equipment to make it look like it was being sent for repair,” Bradyn says.

“Do we have any way of checking cameras and making a note of anyone in or out of the hospital the days before and after that was taken?” I ask him. It’s something I could ask my own tech team, but Tucker is far better than they are.

And there aren’t many lines he won’t cross to find the truth.

“I’ll do it now,” he says. “It’ll take a couple of hours, but I can write a program that will link with facial ID and get us a detailed list even if they didn’t check in.”

“Perfect. Thanks.” I roll my shoulders. There has to be something that we’re missing. Some piece that we’ll uncover that will make all of the rest come together.

Flowers . “Last night, Lani said she remembers smelling flowers when her abductor came into the room,” I tell them.

“Flowers?” Dylan questions. “There were none at that cabin.”

“Which means it could have been something her abductor was wearing. Perfume, maybe?” I stare at the notepad in front of me.

“Perfume?” Tucker considers. “So you think the abductor was a woman?”

“Someone with medical knowledge,” I say. “And access to those computers. Could very well be a nurse. The coroner said Carla Yates didn’t have any defensive wounds on her.”

“Which means she knew her attacker,” Elliot says. “Which also fits it being a nurse.”

“But you interviewed all the nurses.” Bradyn crosses his arms.

“Then I missed something. Do you have anything on the cameras yet?” I ask Tucker.

“Definitely altered,” he says. “Looks like the cameras were on loop, so the pickup never showed up on the security tapes.”

“We need to get with hospital security then. See why they didn’t notice their tapes were altered.” My phone buzzes, so I withdraw it and check the screen.

Lani: I hope you’re doing okay.

I open my messages again and reply.

Me: I’m doing okay. How are you holding up?

An alarm screeches, and adrenaline surges through my system in response. Tucker clicks on the screen and jolts to his feet as live security footage plays before us. “Someone’s at the main house.” A brown sedan is parked out in front of the house, the trunk wide open.

I don’t even wait to see who’s in the car because it doesn’t matter. Lani is home—alone—since we just saw Ruth leave the property and Tommy is with Taylor Yates.

I rush for the door, all of the brothers on my heels. We’re at Tucker’s house, less than two miles from the main house.

Bradyn makes it to his truck first, so I jump in the bed while the other brothers—and their dogs—file into their vehicles, and we all take off toward the main house.

I thought she was safe.

She should have been safe!

By the time we reach the property, the car is gone. But Tommy Hunt’s truck is parked outside, the door open. He’s trying to climb up into the seat but falls backward, giving me a full view of his bloodstained shirt.

No.

I jump out of the back before Bradyn has come to a stop and rush toward him.

“They took her!” he bellows. “They took my girl!”

“I know. I need to see where you’re hit.” I roll him over and rip his shirt open. Two bullet holes. One grazed his side, the other—I stop and flip his shirt closed again. In the pocket of his button-down, a small Bible caught the round meant for his heart.

It would have killed him.

“You’re going to be okay,” I tell him. “This saved your life.” I withdraw the Bible from his pocket and hand it to him—the bullet still embedded inside.

“Thank You, God. Thank You.” He clutches it to himself. “Please let them find my girl, Lord. Please keep her safe.” Tears stream down his cheeks.

“Did you see who took her?”

“No. It was an older sedan, though,” he replies. “Brown, I think? I was so focused on Lani—” His voice breaks.

“He’ll need stitches on that side.” I push to my feet and start toward Bradyn’s truck. “They have a head start, but we might be able to catch them.”

“I’ll get Dad to the hospital,” Tucker says. “You guys go get our sister back and make whoever took her pay,” he snarls.

Bradyn lets Bravo into the backseat, then gets into the driver’s side while I climb into the passenger seat.

“I’m grabbing my truck and Elliot,” Dylan says. “We’ll be right behind you guys.”

* * *

We lost them.

Or, more likely, we never had them. Whoever did this meticulously thought out every step of their plan, aside from Tommy Hunt showing up when he did. My guess is that he was a wild card our attacker wasn’t counting on. Question is, how did they know Ruth was going to leave? Were they just sitting there waiting for an opportunity?

Whatever the plan was, one thing’s for sure. Whoever was driving that car made sure they weren’t on the road by the time we got there. Dylan picked up Elliot from his house, then took a right while we went left, ensuring every inch of that highway leaving the Hunt property was checked.

We even went back roads, and nothing. Not even tire tracks in the mud.

Frustration and fear ebb away at what’s left of my sanity.

I called Deputy Brown and had her put out an APB on the car, but without a license plate, I’m not sure how far we’ll get. It’s not as though dark sedans are unusual in this area.

Ruth has been an absolute mess ever since Bradyn’s wife, Kennedy, went over to the Yates’ place and picked her up. She’s barely keeping it together, and Tommy—well—he’s blaming himself for the abduction.

Saying he should have moved faster.

Took the first shot with the rifle he keeps in his truck.

But here I am, standing on the porch, losing my mind because I can’t find the single most important person in the world to me. Again.

She never even got my last message.

Elliot’s truck pulls up in the drive and parks in front of the house. Both he and his cousin, Silas Williamson, climb out, alongside family friend Lance Knight. Silas, a former Navy SEAL, now lives in Maine and works for Lance’s company, Knight Security.

“Any word?” Elliot asks, even knowing we would have called if there was. We’re all clinging to what little hope we have. And right now, it’s not much.

“No. Nothing.”

Silas, Lance, and Elliot all climb the porch steps.

“It’s good to see you, Gibson. Though I wish it was under better circumstances,” Lance greets, shaking my hand. I’ve met the former Army Ranger twice over the past couple of years.

“Thanks for coming out,” I tell them.

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Silas replies. “What do we know so far?”

“Just that it was a dark sedan. I’ve put out an APB on it, and Tucker is scanning camera footage in and around town to see if we can get a match.”

“Elijah is checking highways using some satellites he borrowed.”

I don’t even care that what the other former Army Ranger is doing is highly illegal. All I want is Lani to be found. By whatever means necessary.

“We need something to give because right now—” I can’t even begin to finish the sentence. “I’m going to head back out. Retrace some steps.” My cell rings. Deputy Brown’s name flashes across the screen. “Anything?” I ask as I press it to my ear.

“I found the car,” she says. “It looks like it’s been wiped, but there was an empty syringe in the trunk.”

“Where?”

“Just outside of town. It’s off in a ditch and shielded by some brush. Whoever left it didn’t want it to be found.”

Hope. It’s not much. But it’s something. “Send me the location ping. I’m on my way.”