Lock&Load (PASS Series Book 3)

by Freya Barker

  I stick to her bumper the entire way to the rental place and follow her inside. As I suspected, insurance covered only up to yesterday. My hand automatically goes for my wallet but when she catches me, she gives a sharp shake of her head as she hands the clerk her own credit card.

  I’m in pretty good shape financially. I’d like to help her out, but she’s looked after herself most of her life and has made it clear she doesn’t feel comfortable accepting any. I’ll have to be patient.

  When I get behind the wheel, I check my phone I’d left in the truck, noticing two missed calls from the office.

  “Gimme one second,” I tell Hillary, who buckles in beside me.

  “Where are you?” Bree asks when she picks up.

  “Picking up Hillary’s car. Why? What’s going on?”

  “Sarah Dunn is missing.”

  “What?”

  I look over at Hillary, who is looking at me with big eyes.

  “She didn’t show up this morning and we couldn’t raise her on her phone, so Sanders went to check her apartment. She wasn’t there but her car was in the parking lot with the keys dangling from the lock.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Sanders has a tech specialist flying in from Denver but that may take a few hours. He’s requested you be here.”

  “On my way,” I tell her, starting the truck. “I’m bringing Hillary with me.”

  “That’s probably best.”

  I end the call and start driving, my eyes on the road as I fill Hillary in on what Bree told me. She doesn’t ask any questions, just gives me a subdued, “Okay,” when I tell her she’s coming with me, even though we’re stopping at her place to pick up my laptop. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving her on her own.

  I should’ve asked Bree if they found her laptop, it may hold helpful information. Otherwise the only thing I can do is sign in to her fake profile and see what I can pull from there.

  Hillary is quiet the entire drive to her place and then to the office. When I pull into my assigned parking spot, I turn off the engine and turn to face her.

  “Things will likely get crazy in there and I apologize in advance if it looks like I’m ignoring you, but this is the safest place for you to be.”

  “Of course,” she responds immediately. “Do what you need to do.”

  I hook her behind the neck and lay a hard kiss on her before getting out of the truck. There are more vehicles than normal in our parking lot, so I’m not surprised to find the office crowded and chaotic.

  I put a hand on Hillary’s lower back and guide her to the front desk where I introduce her to Lena, whom I ask to organize a place she can be comfortable. Then I wade into a small crowd gathered in the conference room.

  Sanders, another two guys who look like feds, our crew, and Detectives Garcia and Bissette.

  “About fucking time,” Sanders barks when he sees me. If not for the worry I see etched on his face I would’ve given him a piece of my mind, but given the circumstances he gets a pass.

  “Had to pick up my laptop.” I hold it up. “Any chance you found Sarah’s?”

  The agent shakes his head. “Nothing. Figure she had it on her. A neighbor says she looked out her window a little before seven and says she saw her walking toward her car, but she got distracted by her kids. One security camera on the parking lot, but whatever took place is out of range.”

  “Fucking great,” I mumble.

  “If she has it with her, would you be able to track it?”

  “I doubt it, her security is pretty tight, but I can try. It may be easier to track her phone, though.”

  “Start on that,” he instructs me. “We need a place to start.”

  I nod and head to my office, leaving the rest of them to figure out what to do next.

  Tracing a phone just with a number isn’t too hard. These days they have apps you can download to check on family members without their knowledge. But clearly Sarah hadn’t left herself vulnerable like that and it takes me a while to track it down.

  “Bingo,” I mutter to myself when I see a red dot on the map appear on my large screen. “I’ve got a hit!” I call out.

  Within seconds Sanders storms in, Yanis close on his heels.

  “Where?”

  I point at the screen. “Near the Exxon truck stop outside Palisade.”

  “Is it moving?” Yanis asks.

  “Doesn’t look to be.”

  Sanders is already stepping outside, barking instructions.

  “Keep an eye on it and let us know if it moves,” Yanis orders before he too walks out of my office.

  I leave the map on my large screen while I open my laptop and log in to Sarah’s undercover profile. I can see the last time she was online was from around eight last night to one in the morning. I haven’t gotten very far when Bree shows the Denver agent, Matt Dunlop, into my office and I spend the next hour or so getting him up to speed.

  “They found the phone,” Bree says, popping her head around the door. “Garbage bin beside the truck stop. They also found bits and pieces of what looks to have been a laptop.”

  “Hard drive?”

  “Not sure. Sanders is having whatever they can find packed up and brought in.”

  Shit. Not exactly unexpected—the dot hadn’t moved all this time—but it means things don’t look too good for Sarah.

  Matt curses under his breath before renewing his focus on the equipment he hauled into my office. I log out of the tracking software, we don’t need that anymore, and decide to check in on Hillary.

  I find her in the small kitchen, sitting at the table with her head resting on her folded arms. She startles when I slide a hand down her back.

  “Were you sleeping?”

  “Nodding off,” she admits. Then she abruptly sits up. “Did you find her?”

  I shake my head and her face falls.

  “Found some of her belongings outside of Palisade, but no sign of her. Not yet.”

  “Oh, no. That’s not good, right?” She reaches up and strokes her fingers along my jaw. “I’m sorry. I hope you find her.”

  Fuck, so do I, but I’m afraid we may be too late.

  I close my eyes and lean into her touch. I may not have known Sarah long, but I recognize in her a kindred spirit, and the thought something may have happened to her messes with my head.

  “Me too.”

  My phone starts ringing in my pocket and I pull it out, noting an unknown number on the screen.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Murray Jansen?” I’m immediately on alert when I hear the woman use my legal name.

  “It is. Who’s this?”

  “I’m calling from the emergency department at Montrose Memorial Hospital.”

  “My dad?” I interrupt her, fear making my voice hoarse.

  “I’m afraid so. The doctors are in with him now.”

  “What happened?”

  I barely notice Hillary getting up and wrapping an arm around me in silent support.

  “He was found unresponsive by a neighbor. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you much more at this time.”

  “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Hillary

  “I have to go.”

  I listened to his side of the conversation, felt the distress come off him in waves, and don’t have a good feeling about this. When he tries to dodge past me to the door, I wrap both arms around him and hold on.

  “Tell me what happened?”

  His eyes, which were unfocused before now, find their focus on mine.

  “It’s my dad. A neighbor found him and he’s been taken to the hospital. I don’t know what’s going on but I have to get to Montrose.”

  “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry,” I mumble, pressing myself against his body until I feel his arms close around me.

  “Lena said you were in here.” Yanis walks in the kitchen carrying a box. “I’ve got the—”

  Radar abruptly lets me go and faces
his boss.

  “My dad’s in the hospital. I have to leave. Give it to Agent Dunlop.”

  “Of course. You good to drive?” he says immediately, sliding the box on the kitchen table. “I can get—”

  “I’m good.”

  “I can drive,” I offer.

  Both men look at me and then at each other. Some unspoken communication takes place I’m not privy to, but it’s Yanis who speaks first.

  “You’re safer here. We have this hornet’s nest riled up and who knows where they’re going to strike next? It’ll be tough for Radar to keep an eye out for you.”

  The truth of it stings. I want to help, want to be there for him, but I hate the idea of being a burden.

  “What about him?” I ask Yanis in return. “Who’s going to look out for him?”

  “He’s a trained operative, Hillary. He can look after himself.”

  “Is there nothing I can do?”

  Radar suddenly pulls me against him and buries his face in my neck.

  “This helps,” he mumbles in my hair. “Knowing you’re safe helps. Knowing you’ll be here when I come back helps.” He takes in an audible breath and blows it out. “I’ll call you as soon as I know more.”

  When he lifts his head, I notice Yanis has slipped from the room. Radar’s kiss is gentle, but too brief. Then he seems to shore himself up, taps me on the nose, and starts walking to the door.

  “Wait,” I call after him. “Can I call anyone for you?”

  He turns with a sad smile on his face.

  “My brother. I’ll message you his number when I get to the truck.”

  I follow him into the hall and watch him walk to the front door.

  “Be safe.”

  I don’t know if he heard me, but moments later my phone alerts me with an incoming message.

  Radar: 907-635-1455 Hugh, his wife’s name is Leslie

  Me: Got it. Be careful please.

  Radar: TY. Will be in touch.

  It’s tempting to keep engaging with him—to stay connected—but I don’t want him to drive distracted. It’ll be hard enough as it is. Besides, I should notify his brother in Alaska.

  I make myself a coffee in the small kitchen for some reinforcement and sit down at the table, my phone to my ear.

  “Jansen.”

  His voice is very similar to his brother’s and I swallow my nerves.

  “Hugh? This is Hillary Glenwood. I’m…uh…a friend of Radar.”

  “Friend, huh?” He chuckles. “Better let my brother down easy then. Last time I talked to him he seemed under the impression he was more than that.”

  I feel my cheeks flush at the thought Radar spoke to his brother about me, but then I remember the reason for my call.

  “Hugh, Radar asked me to call you. He’s on his way to Montrose.”

  He doesn’t interrupt once while I tell him what I know, which sadly isn’t much, and stays silent for a moment after I’m done.

  “Hugh?” I prompt.

  “Right. Give me ten minutes to find a flight. I’ll call you back with the details.”

  I don’t get a chance to respond before the line goes dead. All I can hear is the hum of low voices from the offices outside, but despite that the kitchen feels oppressively silent.

  I flip through the magazine Lena left me with a few hours ago. It’s no more engaging this time around. My mind is churning, and I find myself staring at an ad for fake eyelashes when my phone rings.

  “Hey, stranger,” Linda teases when I answer. “Where were you yesterday? Everything all right?”

  I haven’t spoken to her since my shift last Wednesday and should probably have called her. With Radar’s brother calling back any minute I don’t want to get into lengthy explanations, but I don’t feel right perpetuating the lie I told Karla either. Not with Linda.

  “I’m okay,” is the only thing I can think of to say.

  “Hmm,” she hums after a long silence. “Methinks something is up with you. Is this shit with Karla getting to you? It’s not like you to be a no-show.”

  Wait. A no-show?

  “I talked to Karla, told her I wouldn’t be in, that I wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t she tell you?” When she doesn’t respond right away, I get uneasy. “Linda?”

  “Are you serious? Any chance you recorded that conversation? Because that bitch is saying she tried calling but you weren’t answering.”

  That uneasy feeling becomes a hot fist in my stomach. Just last month the director of nursing reprimanded me for the way I handled that CPS case, a failure to report for work could cost me my job.

  “She’s setting me up.”

  Even as I say it I know down to my bones that’s exactly what she’s doing. Lord only knows what else she’s been whispering in the director’s ear.

  “That jealous piece of trash,” Linda snarls. “I’m gonna—”

  I miss what she says next when another call comes in. That must be Hugh.

  “Linda, I have another call. Don’t do or say anything that’ll get you in trouble. I’ll fill you in later. Gotta go.”

  I don’t give her a chance to answer and switch to the other line.

  “Hugh?”

  “I can’t get to Montrose any sooner than tomorrow morning. Flying United Airlines and I’ll land at a little after eleven, coming from Denver.”

  “I’ll let Radar know.”

  “Tell him I’ll rent a car so he doesn’t have to worry about picking me up. Any news?”

  “No, but he left not that long ago. I’m sure once he gets to the hospital he’ll know more.”

  “I’m not flying out until later tonight, so if there’s anything to report…”

  “One of us will let you know,” I assure him.

  “Right. Well, despite the circumstances I look forward to meeting you in person.”

  “Likewise.”

  The moment I end the call I type out a quick message to Radar, giving him the details. I stare at my screen, hoping for some kind of response but none is forthcoming. He’s probably still driving; it wouldn’t be safe to answer.

  I’m sure he’ll get in touch soon enough.

  Radar

  Fuck.

  That’s what you get for speeding.

  The flashing blue lights in my rearview mirror have me slam the heel of my hand on the steering wheel. Of all the times to be pulled over for speeding. Reluctantly I brake and pull over to the side of the road, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror.

  I’m about thirty miles south of Grand Junction and am surprised when I recognize a police department cruiser. I can’t quite make out the person behind the wheel. What the hell are they doing out here on US 50, this far south? I would’ve expected a state trooper but this doesn’t look like a CSP vehicle.

  For a moment I consider calling Yanis, but I shouldn’t bother them with a simple roadside stop. They’ll already have their hands full with Sarah’s disappearance and the rapid developments in this case.

  Since the discovery of the Dallas UniCon as the apparent common link in this case twenty-four hours ago, the feds haven’t let any grass grow on bringing in as many names as we’ve been able to connect. The wheels are coming off for whoever the mastermind is behind Lock&Load - Revenge. I imagine interviews are taking place all over that will hopefully start shedding some more light on who is behind this.

  My phone pings, alerting me to an incoming message, and I grab it from the cupholder.

  Hillary: Hugh flying out tonight. Arriving Montrose around 11 am with UA. Thinking of you.

  A smile pulls at my mouth at that last line. Fuck, I wish she were sitting beside me right now.

  I’m about to send her a message back when I catch movement in my side mirror. Immediately alarm bells start going off. The driver’s side door of the cruiser is open, but I don’t see anyone and there’s nobody behind the wheel. Can’t see anything in my rearview mirror either. What the fuck?

  The moment I open my door to look, I’m hit with a spray tha
t instantly blinds me and my hands fly to my face. It fucking burns. I gasp for breath as I feel myself pulled from the truck. My knees land hard when something hits me on the side of my head, sending me face-first into the gravel.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Hillary

  “Any word?”

  I startle and look up in the mirror over the sink to find Bree behind me.

  I’ve been drinking so much coffee these past few hours, this is my third visit to the bathroom. Time has crawled and I’m almost grateful for the change of scenery from the small kitchen where I’ve been confined.

  Hugh called once, right before he was scheduled to board his flight, and Jake has checked on me a few times. Lena was kind enough to turn on the small TV mounted on the wall in the kitchen, so I had something to watch. I tried to distract myself with reruns of Criminal Minds, but not even the byplay between Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia could hold my attention for long.

  Every time I’d heard a phone ring, or someone walked past in the hallway, my anxiety would crank up a notch. I can’t help worry about the welfare of the FBI agent everyone is looking for, and my concern for Radar only amplifies my apprehension. I finally tried calling him a few times, getting his voicemail, and the message I sent him is still unanswered.

  “Nothing yet,” I repeat what I’ve told Jake a few times. “Maybe he turned his phone off,” I offer, mostly trying to convince myself.

  It’s been about three and a half hours since Radar left and I’m getting really concerned about his lack of communication. Of course there are a lot of scenarios I can think of that would have him out of reach, but what if his father died and he’s alone dealing with that?

  Bree’s face betrays her own concern.

  “Have you tried the hospital?”

  “No, they don’t usually give out information about patients. Besides, I don’t even know Radar’s dad’s name.”

  “Give me a second and I can dig that up. Maybe they can get word to Radar to contact us.”