The chief chuckled. “Brush it off all you want. I can recognize young people in love, especially young people who either don’t believe it or refuse to.” He finished securing her earpiece in place. “Give him a shot.”
“What?”
Chief Murray chuckled again, this time deeper. “I’ve known Trevor awhile. He takes everything so seriously. But he’s come a long way despite what he’s been through. Catching this Alphabet Killer—this copycat—will help him put to bed all the demons Matthew Colton brought into his life.”
Jocelyn could only stare.
“You’ll see.”
Would she?
“If you give him a chance.”
He humbled her by zeroing in on exactly what she and Trevor had discussed—and saying what Trevor had. “Did he talk to you?”
Only an understanding smile, soft and expressing the wisdom in his eyes, answered her.
“Listen to Trevor. Work as a team. We’ll have this wrapped up in no time,” he said.
She watched him walk away, going over to some other agents to have some final words.
Then she turned her head and caught Trevor looking at her, taking in her vest and seeing more than its protective layer. God, she loved the way he looked at her.
He pointed and mouthed, You. He moved his point to himself. Are mine.
Oh, really? His playfulness touched her. Playful, but then, not. Their banter had always come easy.
She pointed at him and mouthed, You. She pointed to her stomach. Are hers.
Intense passion, satisfaction, masculine power lowered his head and put a hooded shadow over his eyes. He pointed to her stomach. His.
“Okay, people,” the chief called. “Time to go to work.” He recapped their strategy.
They’d arrived at the meet—a few blocks away. The backup would stay concealed and the task force SWAT team would accompany her and Trevor to the restaurant. They didn’t want to alert Regina and send her running, so after they secured the perimeter, the SWAT team would go in after them.
Whereas before Jocelyn felt the buzz of purpose every time she faced a situation, she didn’t now. And she realized she hadn’t felt it when she’d caught Regina at the warehouse. She’d had a sense of duty—what needed to be done to apprehend the woman, but not that inner need to fill an empty space, the space her father and brother once filled.
Getting out of Trevor’s SUV and looking over the hood at him as he looked at her, she felt him filling that space instead.
How had that happened? How had she gone from missing her dad and brother—her family—to yearning for Trevor at her side?
And even more perplexing, how had he wormed his way into her heart enough to make her really see that she could be happy in that house he showed her? With kids and pets, no longer working for the FBI, no longer working dangerous cases, no longer needing to.
She checked her pistol. Trevor doing the same as they met in front of the SUV, waiting for the lead SWAT officer to give them the go-ahead. They stayed out of sight. Jocelyn hadn’t seen them when they’d arrived. If anyone inside the restaurant had seen them, they would not see the team. Surveillance had parked down the street, out of sight. The SWAT team stealthily surrounded the building, prepared to rush in as soon as she and Trevor entered.
Trevor stepped to her. “I go in first.” He leaned down and kissed her, then hovered there until she opened her eyes and met his. “Wife.”
Warmth lit her up inside, humming in her chest and tickling her with pleasure. “Okay, husband.”
His crooked grin kept her high until he moved back and readied a second gun he had tucked in the back waist of his jeans.
Back to the task at hand.
“Let’s do this.” Holding her gun up, she walked with him to the back door.
The restaurant owner had given them a key. Trevor inserted it, on constant vigil for movement that wasn’t SWAT. He opened the door and slowly pushed it wider, gun aimed, scanning the darkness.
No one was here.
Had Regina fled after discovering the FBI had zeroed in on her? No. Why leave the pay stub after she had discovered Jocelyn’s true identity?
Jocelyn moved into the dim kitchen, commercial-grade stainless steel appliances gleaming. Counters and floors were immaculate. Neat and tidy. Light above one section shone on corners that hadn’t been neglected. This restaurant was clean. Although dim, Jocelyn could see that. The owner could have ordered his staff to do a thorough cleaning, but Jocelyn didn’t think this much cleaning could have been done in such a short period of time, not when the health department would have taken up a big chunk of it. The cleanliness only supported the theory that the meat had been planted.
Trevor checked the office off the kitchen, a small square space cluttered with papers, shelves with binders and a computer on a corner desk.
He gave a nod of all clear.
Jocelyn went to the dining room entrance. The owner had shown them floor plans and photos. Partial walls divided the dining room and bar area, some only half walls. She crouched for protection near one.
Trevor turned toward the private dining room to the right. He’d clear that before going through the rest of the building. He paused, turning to hold up his hand.
She nodded, lifting her eyes to let him know how annoying that was.
He went to the edge of the wall and she caught sight of the first SWAT officer in the kitchen. He moved out of sight as the next officer appeared.
Assured of their presence, she moved to the end of the wall, peering around and seeing only empty booths bathed in dim light. Moving through that area, she approached the front door and hostess area, meaning to take cover at another dividing wall there and let Trevor clear the entrance.
As she made it to the wall, an explosion erupted. She didn’t know which direction it came from. The pressure knocked her backward. She flew through the air, losing her grip on her pistol. She hit one of the booths, her head smacking the edge of a table.
Vaguely she had images of Trevor flying through the air, too, opposite direction from her. He disappeared in a billow of flames and smoke, falling backward.
“Trevor,” she barely got out as another explosion came from the kitchen, tearing down the wall where she’d fallen, the force throwing her several feet and debris hitting her. A board or something hard hit her head and she lost consciousness.
* * *
Coughing, Trevor rose up onto one elbow, wiping his burning eyes of dust. Two SWAT officers rushed to him. He pushed away their assistance.
“Jocelyn!” Pain sliced through his shoulder as he tried to stand. He’d taken a good hit when the explosion threw him back. He’d fallen back onto a table, his weight breaking the square slab in half. But Jocelyn had been closer to the explosions. The one from the kitchen might have killed her. It might have killed a few officers.
The SWAT member put his hand on his chest. “We have people searching for her. We have to get you out of here.”
“Searching? Where is she? She was right next to me. She has to be here.” He looked through the smoke and flames. Firefighters had arrived. Roaring flames engulfed the wall between the kitchen and dining area and the corner where Jocelyn had been standing. Intense heat went against the logic of staying inside the building.
He’d been out long enough for the emergency vehicle to arrive. Long enough for Regina to take Jocelyn. She had to be responsible for this.
Another man in black approached, the SWAT lead. “She’s not here. Let’s get him out of here.”
Trevor moved to stand, coughing.
The officer who’d been with him when he’d regained consciousness provided support. “You need a paramedic.”
Trevor swatted his hands away and stood, bracing his hand on the rubble, getting scratched and not caring. He
staggered to his feet, dizzy, urgently needing to find Jocelyn.
The SWAT lead took the other officer’s arm to keep him from getting in Trevor’s way.
“Let him look.”
Through smoke and avoiding the flames, Trevor moved so he could see the charred dining area where he’d last seen Jocelyn. She was not there. Smoke thickened and thinned as it billowed and moved with the flames.
He went to the next partitioned dining area. Not there. He faced the officers, who waited anxiously. To his right, he saw an ambulance through the open back door, the explosion having ripped a bigger hole, lights flashing and paramedics loading an injured officer.
They were in the firefighters’ way.
Reluctantly, Trevor went outside with the lead and the officer.
“We’re searching the perimeter,” the lead said as they left through the open front door.
Outside, coughing along with Trevor and the officer, the lead said, “If you want to help, we need you to think, Trevor.”
They needed his analysis experience. To find Jocelyn. Precious time slipped by. Every second wasted put her life in more danger.
Flames rose up over the vicinity of the kitchen, not so much over the dining area. A lesser charge had been used there. To preserve life? Regina needed Jocelyn alive so she could stage the death.
Trevor swallowed his fear. “Regina has her.” There could be no other explanation.
Trevor moved in a circle, his head pounding and feeling thick, blood trickling down from a cut. None of that mattered.
Think.
Pedestrians gathered to watch the emergency unfolding before their eyes. But other than that, nothing moved near the restaurant. No cars. No people.
“Where’s the owner?” Trevor asked.
“In the back, upset over the damage,” the lead said.
“I need to talk to him.” Trevor started walking toward the side of the building.
The lead stopped him and raised his hand, snapping at an officer standing next to them.
The officer nodded and spoke into his radio. The owner would be summoned.
Trevor paced, not liking the time that passed.
Jocelyn.
He could not lose her. Not now.
“This is Andy, the owner,” the lead said.
Trevor faced the average-height man—if not on the short side—whose bald head accented his big, round blue eyes. Uncle Fester with blue eyes.
“My restaurant,” the man complained, stressed and turning that look toward his building. “I’ll never recover from this.”
“The bureau will help as much as possible,” Trevor said, putting on his political face. Jocelyn’s life depended on him—on this entire team—finding her.
“Really?”
“I’ll do my best to see it’s so. Andy, is there anything you can tell us about your building? Are there any other exits than the front and back doors? A crawl space?” Something.
Andy’s eyebrows popped wider. “There’s a secret tunnel underneath the dining room.”
A...secret tunnel?
“What?” the SWAT lead said, as shocked as Trevor.
Why hadn’t he brought that up sooner? Like...before the team arrived. Trevor willed his anger into submission. Andy didn’t know the tunnel would have been significant. He explained he associated it with historical importance.
“What do you know about the tunnel?”
“It was dug during prohibition. Texas had a different take on the laws, but they still had bootleggers.”
“Where does the tunnel go?”
“A couple of miles to what used to be open space but is now a warehouse.”
The sting of realization froze inside Trevor. “The Fenton Street warehouse?”
“Yes.”
Trevor bit back a curse. Regina had known about the tunnel.
“That’s quite a jog,” the lead said.
Trevor marched back toward the building, not caring if the firefighters weren’t finished yet. He reached the front door and pushed aside a firefighter.
“Sir! You can’t go in there.”
He kept going. The fire had already been doused in the dining area and firefighters worked mainly in the kitchen now. Smoke choked him. He lifted his jacket lapel up to cover his mouth and nose. The tunnel connected to the dining room where Jocelyn had fallen. He searched the walls and floor. There were no secret passageways in the walls. With the fireman watching, and the SWAT lead going to stand beside him, Trevor searched the floor. Most of the wood planks connected in solid lines, but a small gap about three feet squared indicated that section came free.
Kneeling, he felt along the crease. His finger slid into a notch in the wood and he came against a small lever. Pressing harder, it snapped free and the floor began to swing downward.
“You better let us check this out first,” the firefighter said.
“We’ve got it.” The lead tossed Trevor a flashlight, which he caught, and then Trevor lowered himself into the hole.
“Nick. Harry,” the lead called.
Two more SWAT officers followed the lead down. Trevor walked along the rough-walled dirt corridor, having to bend his head in places. Seeing tracks in the dirt ground, he stopped and crouched.
“Tire marks,” he said. “She drove a 4-wheeler.” He studied the tracks a bit longer. “Hauling a small trailer. The tracks are deep enough to have hauled a person.”
Jocelyn.
Hanging his head with the terrifying images of her fighting for her life, he blew air out and stood, beginning to walk down the corridor.
The lead stopped him. “It will take us too long on foot. Let’s drive to the warehouse.”
Trevor nodded and with one last frustrated look down the dark tunnel, he climbed out and back into the smoky restaurant.
Five minutes later, he realized his worst nightmare.
They found the 4-wheeler, but no sign of Jocelyn whatsoever.
“She could have had a vehicle waiting here,” the lead said, having just listened to his earpiece. “And the plate Jocelyn got is also a stolen car.”
Regina could have taken her in any vehicle. She’d abandoned cars the way she abandoned her identities. A chameleon.
Where had she taken Jocelyn?
It could be anywhere.
He got out his phone and called the chief. “Regina got away with her. I need you to look for any reported stolen vehicles.”
“I’m on it.”
“And check the warehouse.” Even though Trevor was certain Regina would not keep Jocelyn there.
“We’re on it.”
He disconnected and fought rising anxiety as he tried to think of what to do next. Only one thing came to him. One, last, desperate reach.
Chapter 17
Trevor headed for the prison entrance and almost didn’t see his sister hurrying toward the parking lot. She’d gone to the prison. Had she spoken with Matthew? She looked frazzled. Upset.
“Josie,” he called.
Stopping, she searched around and found him, standing still for a second or two, as shocked as him that they had run into each other here. Then she smiled and started toward him. He met her halfway.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She must know she didn’t need to tell him why she’d come.
The gravity of Jocelyn couldn’t be calmed. He saw her notice his state.
“Trevor?” She touched his arm.
“Regina kidnapped Jocelyn. I don’t know where she is.” He looked toward the prison. “Matthew may have received more letters, or there may be something in them with clues he hasn’t mentioned yet.”
When he faced her again, he saw her doubt.
“Oh, Trevor. I’ll go in with y
ou.” She hooked her arm with his and would have propelled him in that direction.
He resisted. “No.”
She let go, confused. “Why not?”
“Have you talked to him?”
Her head bowed. “Not yet.” She raised her eyes to him. “I—I just couldn’t. I know I might be able to get a clue that might lead us to where he left Mom, and I had myself all ready to face him, but I entered the prison and it—it wasn’t what I expected. It... I don’t know. It was too much.”
“It’s okay, Josie. When the time is right, you’ll know.”
“I thought I knew now.” She looked toward the prison again, the weight of facing their serial killer dad too sobering.
“We can talk later.” He had to get moving.
“Jocelyn. How can I be so selfish? I’ll go with you.” She started walking back toward the prison. “Seeing me may make him help you.”
Maybe divine intervention had arranged for them to run into each other. Matthew had complained Josie hadn’t come back to see him. She of all the siblings had a certain sentimental effect on him. The youngest of them, maybe he had a soft spot for her. If that were possible.
“How can he help you anyway?” Josie asked.
“He’s eluded to having information about Regina that he’s kept to himself. That’s why I keep coming to see him. I need him to give us more clues.”
Josie didn’t respond. She didn’t believe Matthew would divulge anything related to Regina or their mother. But she’d come to the prison, so she must have some hope.
Inside, the prison personnel made special arrangements for Trevor to see Matthew, a perk of being an agent. He requested a quiet place this time, and after waiting several agonizing minutes, the prison guard took him and Josie to a windowless room.
Sitting in chains at the rectangular table, Matthew looked pale, if a little grayish green. He slowly turned to see them, recognition lighting his tired eyes when he saw Josie.
“Josie,” he said.
He almost sounded human, as though he truly had missed her.
Josie said nothing, folding her arms, not comfortable being here.
A Baby for Agent Colton Page 20
