Saving Olivia (Team Cereberus Book 1)

by Melissa Kay Clarke

  "I've got a friend. Well, actually, he's a fellow SEAL team member. His lady is missing, and the guy we normally use for information is unavailable. I thought maybe you could help us out."

  Excitement rushed through Digger, and he couldn't help but grin. Sitting down in his chair, he grabbed a pen and paper. "Give me everything you've got."

  As Alcide gave him the rundown on what they knew, he made notes. Once he had everything, he sat back. "Anything else?"

  "We noticed a camera across the street. From the angle, it doesn't seem like it was looking down the alley itself, but there may be something useful on the footage. I'm trying to track down the owner but so far haven't had much luck."

  "Alright. I've got it. I'll get on this and call you as soon as I find out anything. And Alcide? Thanks for trusting me to help. I appreciate it."

  "Anything you can do to get Livy back is appreciated."

  Dropping his telephone on the desk, Digger pulled his keyboard toward him and cracked his knuckles. Picking up his glasses, he grinned. His hacking skills are what landed him the Marines at eighteen. Spending six years in the Corps was some of the best years of his life. He thought it was all over when that explosion and fire had ransacked the data center on his last deployment. Now, two years later, he finally felt alive again. Taking care of pampered prima-donnas who didn't want their latest indiscretion plastered on social media was one thing. Saving lives was something entirely different. Call him an adrenaline junkie, but this was what he lived for.

  He placed his fingers on the keyboard; the old ways came easily. He grinned again. It took him less than ten minutes to locate the feed from the camera. He was in luck - it was one of those models that stored images to a cloud. Backing it up, he watched until a black cargo van parked in the alleyway, stayed for a couple of minutes then left. Stopping the feed, he digitally zoomed in on the back end as it was speeding away.

  "Got ya," Digger muttered. Turning to his keyboard again, he entered the DMV database and started a search on the license plate.

  Chapter 13

  Olivia opened her eyes as wide as she could, but there was no change in the inky blackness that surrounded her. Struggling, she managed to get herself upright and scooted over until her shoulder touched a wall. She leaned against it gratefully, laying her head back. With a hiss, she pulled it forward again and groped with her bound hands. Her fingers touched the tender spot where a sticky, goose egg sized lump rose up in her matted hair. It would be her luck to have a concussion.

  She lifted her hands to her face and felt along her wrists with her chin, trying to decipher what was binding them together. It was slick, wide and smelled of adhesive. Duct tape, if she were to guess since there was no rubber smell that would indicate electrical tape. She found the edge, clamped her teeth on it and pulled. Within minutes she had the sticky wrappings off and was rubbing her wrists to get the circulation going again in her fingers. Once she finished, she made short work of the bindings on her ankles.

  Taking a deep breath, she let it out and concentrated. Be smart. Don't panic. That was how she was going to get out of this in one piece. She turned her head to the side and pressed her ear to the wall to listen. At first, there was nothing, but slowly, Olivia became aware of a low hum of machinery. Inching along the wall, she stopped every few feet and listened again. When her outstretched hand touched another wall, she turned and repeated the actions to the third wall and the fourth until she was sure she was close to the beginning. Nothing. Sitting once again, she took stock of the situation.

  The room was a long rectangle, sixteen or so feet and maybe eight or so feet wide. The walls seemed to be constructed of metal with a floor that felt like rough wood. It was sealed so tightly not a single glimmer of light could be seen. The space was completely empty. Olivia sat back and pulled her tank top away from her sweat slicked body and fanned it. She didn't know what happened to her work shirt but didn't miss the extra layer. It was hot in here and getting hotter as the moments went by. That told her it was most likely morning and by now, Auntie must be frantic.

  Olivia had just hung up her call to Auntie when a pair of arms had curled around her body. For a split second, she thought it was Bruiser. A whispered, "Hello, my beauty," in a thick guttural accent had dispelled that idea quickly. Instincts kicked in, and she went on the attack. Throwing her head back, she caught the man across the mouth with a satisfying crunch. It was followed by a fist to his more delicate area which bought her a few precious seconds. She had her hands on the door to the coffee shop when something landed on the back of her head. The next thing she knew, she awoke to this small space, trussed up like a turkey.

  "Which one is she in?"

  The voice was muffled and came from the other side of the wall where she was sitting. There was a slight rap next to her hip. "This one," said the same heavily accented voice from the attack.

  She immediately nicknamed them Creep and Jerk.

  "Are you sure you got the right one?" Creep asked.

  Jerk snorted. "Yeah, it's the right one. We've been keeping an eye on her. Don't worry; he'll be happy." There was a pause. "He better pay extra to get my teeth fixed. Bitch knocked some out when I grabbed her."

  Olivia had to slap her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Good. She had done some damage. Give her a little time, and she'd do even more. She didn't know who "he" was but if he thought she would hunker down and take this, then he was crazy. She'd done the victim thing already in her life and wasn't about to present a repeat performance. Her therapist would be so proud of her.

  She pressed her ear against the wall harder to catch the conversation as they left. Frustration ate at her as the silence of the area again descended on her. Turning onto her hands and knees, she crawled along the wall until her head touched another wall. Flattening her hand over the surface, Olivia groped along, searching for any indication of a door. There was none.

  The temperature continued to climb inside the metal box as the walls heated from the outdoor sun. Olivia moved away from the sides and laid in what she determined to be the center. It was marginally cooler on the floor but not by much. Sweat coated her from head to toe gluing her shirt to her skin. She smacked her lips together as thirst took over her attention. What she wouldn't do for a few swallows of water.

  Olivia drifted in and out of consciousness as the stifling heat slowly baked her body. The layer of sweat dried as dehydration took over, coating her with a thin layer of salty crud. Her stomach lurched and tried to empty, but there was nothing except bile burning her throat. She laid back and moaned. Her head throbbed, and cramps seized her muscles. A niggling voice in the back of her brain whispered heat stroke to her. She had learned the symptoms in boot years ago in preparation for possible deployment.

  "Help," she croaked weakly. Balling her fist, she lifted it and let it drop on the thin wooden floor. There was barely a sound at all. "Help, please."

  "Nobody here to help you. You're going to die, Miss O-liv-i-a."

  She knew that voice. "Sly," she whispered into the superheated air. "You aren't here. It's just an illusion brought on by heat stroke."

  "Then why are you talking to me?" the sound of his laughter sliced through the air. "Poor little Miss O-liv-i-a. You had all these big plans, but you can't get away from who you are. Daughter of a crack whore; a little piece of tail dying alone in the dark."

  "Go 'way," she muttered.

  "It's your fault. Your mother is dead, and it's all your fault. You should have let me take care of you. A girl as pretty as you would be able to make a lot of money on her back. Tried so hard to be better than Nadine. You finished school, went in the Army and registered for college. Plans on top of plans and it's all for nothing. In the end, you will join your mother after all. The only difference is there won't be a ceremony with pretty words told over a coffin. Nobody will ever see you again, O-liv-i-a. You're nothing. Nobody."

  She would cry at the condescending tone, but there wasn't any mois
ture left in her body. Sly was right, of course. All of her big plans meant nothing now. She wouldn't see Jayden come into his own as an artist. Auntie would never get that long awaited cruise she wanted. Bruiser. Oh, that one hurt the most. From the first moment she laid eyes on him, she knew on some basic cellular level that he was her destiny. They had taken it slow, enjoying the tender chase of the new attraction. However, she knew the truth. Bruiser was it for her, and now she wouldn't even get a chance to tell him how she felt.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  The last thing she heard was Sly's arrogant laughter as consciousness slid away and oblivion welcomed her into its embrace.

  Chapter 14

  The string of obscenities flowing from Bruiser's mouth filled the air. Immediately, all talking ceased as Cowboy, Railroad, and Finch turned their attention to him. "Bruise, you holding it together?" Finch asked with concern.

  "Barely," he ground out. "Olivia's been missing for over twenty-four hours, and nobody knows anything." He paced in the small area they had set up as a command center in his apartment living room.

  "Hold on, Bruiser." The voice coming through the speaker of his cell phone piped in.

  "Have you got something, Digger?"

  "Maybe. Let me check a few things."

  It had been a stroke of pure luck in retaining the services of the former Marine data specialist. With their normal tech unavailable, Digger McMillan had become a godsend. So far, he had been invaluable getting them the information they needed.

  "Alright. Give us a timeline," Bruiser barked. Worry had his normally calm demeanor taking a hike. Given the situation, he knew the team would forgive him.

  As if knowing where his thoughts were, Railroad slapped him on the shoulder and squeezed. "We'll find her," he muttered. A chorus of agreements echoed in the room.

  There was the sound of keys clicking, followed by some muttering by Digger. "Alright, here's what I was able to cobble together. The last time anyone saw Olivia was when she clocked out of work at The Whole World In My Cup at 12:12 pm yesterday afternoon. At 12:18, she placed a call to Bruiser stating her intention to stop at a market on the way home. At 12:21 the camera across the street captured an older model dark cargo van with darkened windows entering the alleyway behind the shop. It stayed for precisely 126 seconds before leaving again. I was able to capture the license plate, but it came back registered to a 2011 Lexus reported stolen six days ago. At 12:23, the external camera at the My-T-Mart on the corner caught the van as it made a left at the light. I was able to track the van with various cameras until it disappeared, heading north past Waterfront Park. That was at 13:04."

  Bruiser swore. "Anything else?"

  Digger let out a breath. "I have an idea, but it's going to take a little time."

  "Time is something she doesn't have a lot of," Bruiser growled.

  "Do your thing, Digger." Cowboy stood and bent over the table containing the cell phone. "Let us know if you get anything else."

  "Will do," the technician intoned then the line went dead.

  Cowboy pushed a couple of buttons on the phone. He watched as Railroad transferred the information Digger had given them onto a map of the San Diego area. It was sketchy at best.

  "Salter."

  "Got anything, Hick?"

  "Negative. Toad and I have been scouring the area but so far haven't found anything."

  "It was a longshot," Finch muttered.

  "We'll keep going." Toad added. "Keep the faith, Bruise."

  The call disconnected. Bruiser dropped into a chair and raked a hand over his face. The stubble on his chin indicated it was past time for a shave. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his palms. He needed her home, like, yesterday. He closed his eyes. She had to be alright. He couldn't contemplate how he would ever find a way to keep going if anything happened to her.

  The telephone rang. Cowboy punched the button and barked into the microphone, "Yeah?"

  "Cowboy?" River's voice was almost drowned in background noise. "I figured ya'll would be together. Jos said Hick told Annabeth that Livy went missing. What can I do?"

  "Nothing, right now. We're gathering intel. Toad and Hick are out looking around." Finch leaned over the table and spoke into the cell. "The police are working their end."

  "If you need anything, I can call Bull. He may be able to shake a few official trees from New Orleans."

  "Thanks, Riv. If we think of something, we'll give you a yell."

  "No problem, Cowboy. If I know my wife, she'll want to do something for Livy's family. Speaking of, the lecture Jos is giving should be finishing. I'll have my phone, so if you need me for anything, you let me know."

  "Will do, and thanks for the offer." Bruiser disconnected the call and let out a breath. "You know, we've been on numerous missions, and no matter what's happened, I've never doubted our ability to handle any situation. We've trained to the point that everything is reflexive. How the hell do you train for this? We're not in some hole in the wall, third world nation. This is the United States. Somebody snatched her in the middle of the day, and nobody saw a damned thing." He grabbed his hat off his head and slung it against the wall. Picking his telephone up, he punched a few buttons.

  "Hello?"

  Taking a breath, he forced himself to calm. The last thing Natalie needed was to hear his stress.

  "Hey Nat, it's Bruiser."

  "Bruiser. Have you found her yet?"

  The hope in Olivia's aunt's voice twisted his gut. She had such confidence in him, and it almost killed him to admit he hadn't delivered. "No, not yet."

  "You will."

  Her faith should have made him feel better. It didn't. Bruiser glanced over at his team. They were all watching him with the same sort of pained expression he knew was reflected on his face. His resolve hardened and he saw them give him a chin lift. They had his six just as he had theirs.

  "I was checking in. Have you heard from the police?" Bruiser knew he could call Coopersmith and talk to him personally, but he also knew Auntie Nat, as Olivia's relative, could get some information he wouldn't be privy to.

  He could hear the frustration in her voice. "The detective said they were working on a couple of leads on a van. Then he tells me to relax and let them do their job. Relax? My baby is out there somewhere being held by who knows what kind of person and he tells me to relax?"

  "I know, Auntie. They are doing everything they can to find her." Bruiser tamped down his frustration. "Try to stay calm. Jayden is relying on you. Speaking of, how is he doing?"

  She let out a long drawn sigh. "After she didn't come home last night, I ran out of excuses. He could tell everyone was upset. I didn't think he could handle the truth, so I told him that she was lost. He said, 'Bruiser will find her again.' He hasn't said a word since, though. He sits in his room and sketches in his book."

  Bruiser wrinkled his brow. "He's sketching again? I thought he hadn't done any of that since picking up airbrushing and street art."

  "You're right," Auntie agreed. "At first, I thought he was taking it all in stride. When Livy first went into the Army, he didn't understand why she wasn't here even though we both explained it to him weeks in advance. Then he started drawing her picture, over and over. It was like he was making photographs of his memories of her. I asked him once about it. He said he didn't want to forget her like he was his mother. Nadine put that child through hell, but he still misses her."

  Bruiser let out a long breath and thought for a minute. "Have you considered contacting their counselor? She may need to help him process his feelings."

  "I called Ara this morning. We're going to go see her this afternoon." Auntie paused a moment. "How about you? How are you doing?"

  "Honestly, I'm going out of my mind. It's killing me not knowing where she is," Bruiser replied.

  Nat's voice dropped. "I've seen enough television to know statistics show if we don't find her within the first forty-eight hours, her chances drop sign
ificantly." He heard her intake a breath as if getting her emotions under control. "We can't lose her, Bruiser. These two have already been through too much. If anything happens to her, I don't think Jayden would survive it. She is his entire world."

  "We'll find her, Auntie. I'm not giving up and neither should you." His phone beeped, indicating an incoming call. "I need to catch this. It could be about Olivia. I'll let you know if I find out anything."

  "Alright, Bruiser. Bye."

  He clicked the call over, and Digger's voice filled the room. "It's McMillan. Bruiser, I may have something. It's a longshot, but it's better than nothing."

  "Anything is better than nothing. Talk to me."

  "As you know, cell phones bounce off different towers to obtain the best signal. This doesn't apply to only calls in process, but also general service. That's why when you travel, you can watch your service capability grow and fall. Your telephone is pinging the different towers."

  "Yeah, we're with you," Cowboy piped in. "You're talking bar strength."

  "Yes, exactly. Well, I took that concept and ran it through a little algorithm. We know the route the kidnappers took after they left the alley. I plotted the course with the cell tower map, and have a list of possible matches. Now, if we assume that the kidnappers both have cell phones, those phones were active the entire time, and the cells didn't skip a tower in the progressive, I came up with a list of possibilities."

  For the first time in hours, hope flared in Bruiser's chest. Railroad beat him to the question. "You have a list of people who may have taken her?"

  "It's a crapshoot at best. There's a lot of factors at play here, but yes, I have a list. Between 12:20 and 13:04, a total of twenty-eight mobile devices pinged the correct towers."

  "Twenty-eight?" Finch swore. "Can you knock that number down some?"

  "I already have. Using the camera footage, I ascertained fourteen of those belonged to a kid's soccer team. The group spent two and a half hours at a sports complex on the north side of town and are there again now."