I closed my eyes, blowing out a breath, thinking of Fran. “Please be okay.”
“Are you talking about me?” Josh’s labored breathing stole the air from my lungs.
35
BRIAN
My knuckles whitened against the steering wheel as I pushed the accelerator farther down, my heart hammering in sync with the windshield wipers. Grace was alive. Her voice echoed in my mind—that broken whisper, the fear in her tone as she told me that Fran had gone for help. That meant Fran, too, was alive—possibly. Two women, two hearts, two voices I couldn’t bear to lose. The thought of either of them hurt, scared, and running for their lives detonated that fucking pain in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
“Come on, come on,” Duke muttered beside me, his face bathed in the blue glow of his phone.
“Fran should be at that farm, Weeping…” Or I was hoping beyond hope she’d made it there. The alternative wasn’t something I could allow myself to even think about. “If she is, she can direct us to Grace.”
“The damn signal keeps going in and out,” Duke complained, tapping his phone screen with growing frustration.
“Not what I want to hear.” My jaw clenched so hard pain resonated.
Fucking storm picked the worst possible time to unleash its fury.
“Pull over,” Duke said. “I have three bars right now. Staying idle will help the signal.”
“We’re two exits away.” It was odd to hear the raw desperation in my tone. “I’ll pull over when we get off the highway.” I had to keep going. Stopping, even for a moment, when both Grace and Fran were out there somewhere, only intensified that pain in my chest.
Panic attack, my ass. I couldn’t shake the paramedic’s advice. Time to see a doctor. I owed it to Fran anyway.
“We might not have a good signal. Grace didn’t.” Duke’s frustration came through loud and clear. “I just need the address. Then we can put it into your SUV’s GPS, which maintains a better signal than our phones.”
I growled, the deep, primal sound coming from the depths of my soul. “I hate when you’re right.” I eased up on the gas, guiding us into the breakdown lane, and flicked on my hazards.
My phone rang, and Ted’s name lit up my SUV screen.
“Yeah,” I barked.
“We located three properties for sale,” Ted said. “Oscar is with me, and we have you on speaker.”
“Grace just called.” My heart lurched at the memory of her voice.
A gush of air came through the speakers. “Where is she?”
“Not sure yet.” The admission ignited my anger, which tasted bitter on my tongue. “She said Fran went for help. There’s a farm two miles from where Grace is called Weeping something. Duke is searching for it on his phone.”
“The signal is weak and slow,” Duke added. “Can you?—”
“On it,” Oscar said.
Duke and I stared at the screen as though we were watching a tense movie. Each second stretched like an hour—time we didn’t have, time Grace and Fran didn’t have.
“Got it,” Oscar clipped out. “Weeping Meadow. It’s located on 555 Swamp Road. Not much around there except…” I could hear his fingers pounding the keyboard, as if he were sitting in the back seat.
Duke typed the address into his phone then into my SUV’s GPS.
“Okay,” Oscar said. “At the one-and-a-half-mile marker from Weeping Meadow, there’s a horse farm. No name. But the property was sold over a year ago. It’s not one of the three we found.”
“Brian, Duke.” Ted’s voice of authority came over the line. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, and I know the answer, but are you guys armed?”
“Are we part of your team tonight?” Duke asked. “Or are we the criminals you know?”
“Why the fuck does it matter?” I snapped, fury and fear tangling in my throat. “Lives are at stake. My daughter’s, Grace’s, and other girls’.”
