Meredith sank to the floor, putting her head on her knees. Then she lifted her head and looked around to see if there were cameras in here.
She wouldn’t put it past Karl. “There is nowhere you can hide from Clay,” she said loudly. “He’s going to find me, and when he does, there is nowhere in this world you’ll be safe.”
39
HIS WAY
Clay had ditched Ford.
They’d played by his brother’s rules months ago going after Reenie, and his brother almost died.
This time, he was going after his woman on his own.
His rules. His way.
He parked on the side of the road behind some trees about a hundred yards away. There weren’t any houses close to the one Karl bought in the country about thirty minutes north of Lake George. His online search had brought up the public notice of a purchase Karl had made months ago and Clay was banking on Meredith being there.
He went into the woods to go around to the rear of the house. He’d driven by and saw Karl’s car in the back of the driveway and didn’t trust that there might be cameras around.
He drew a breath, slow and steady, bringing his heart rate down a notch. He’s done this a thousand times—before jumps, before dives, before breaching a door. The body always wants to spike, to dump adrenaline. His job is to stay ahead of it to get to Meredith. Too much was at stake.
Checklists run automatically in his head. Muscle memory takes the wheel. He doesn’t need to tell his hands what to do; they already know.
The edges of fear, of hesitation, of self, get walled off. Right now, the only thing that matters is the task.
His pulse settles into rhythm with his breathing. Calm, controlled. It’s about clarity. Efficiency. Executing the plan, adapting when it breaks, keeping the noise out of the signal.
As much as he wanted to go through the front door, he wouldn’t be that stupid.
He wasn’t his brother showing up with a warrant and asking nicely to look around.
He was a Navy SEAL going in for an extraction on his own. His training would never leave him regardless of his current career.
One gun at his ankle, another in the waist of his jeans. More tools he’d need strapped on.
Clay moved quietly, prepared for anything, as he made his way closer to the house.
There were no signs or movements of anyone outside.
From behind a tree about fifty feet from the back door, he surveyed the property, looking into windows with his binoculars.
The land dipped down, the second story actually three stories high, as there was a walkout basement in the back.
A curtain moved on the second floor. He looked again and saw a flash of brown hair. Karl was bald.
He stayed trained on that spot until he was positive it was Meredith.
The minute he saw her face, he tilted the binoculars toward the sun hoping for a reflection to catch her eye.
Her hand came to the pane of the glass, her palm against it. Assuming that meant she’d seen his signal, he shook his head,put his finger to his lips, and hoped she understood to not give him away.
He would have liked any kind of sign or clue of what was going on inside but didn’t want to put her in any more harm.
The guy wasn’t smart enough to hide a camera in a smoke alarm or a picture on the wall, but rather behind a curtain that anyone could move. He was banking on Karl not having anything on the side of the house.
He moved into the woods some more, got to the side of the house and to a window.
Idiot had it open a crack. Probably airing the place out since it’d been unoccupied for months.
