“I promise to explain everything,” Cam assured him. “Just send me that address.”
“I’ll go look it up right now.”
“Thank you.” He hung up, insides churning. Had Erin been right there all along? Was Nic there now? He was excited and nauseous at the same time. He swallowed both down, looking up at Jamie. “I know where they are.”
He barely had the sentence out when his own phone rang, a Boston area number lighting up the screen.
“This is Agent Byrne.”
“Reid always called you Twenty-four,” a thick Southie accent replied.
“Harper,” Cam said.
Grabbing him by the sleeve, Jamie hustled him down the hall to the techs. “I’m gonna make this short and sweet,” Harper said. “Because I’m sure you’re trying to trace me.”
Jamie scribbled on the whiteboard. Keep him talking.
Cam shook his head and snatched the pen. Don’t need to. Trace the address Bobby texts you. Get ready to move teams there.
“You’re going to get me a ride out of here if you ever want to see your pet lawyer again.”
Jamie’s phone buzzed and he flashed it at Cam, showing the address from Bobby. Cam knew exactly where that was, and it made all the sick sense in the world. She had been right there all along and now he’d bet his last dollar Nic was there too.
Go! he mouthed and flashed an open hand. Five minutes. Jamie went in motion, not needing to be told twice.
And since this might be the only chance he ever had to talk to Harper again—because if it came down to Harper’s life or Nic’s when they got to the scene, Cam would do anything and everything to save Nic—he asked the question that had haunted him for two decades. “Why’d you take Erin?”
“I used to watch her from my window, always reading outside in the library courtyard. I had to have her.” The wistful tone of Harper’s voice made Cam’s stomach roil. “She was the start of my collection. None of the rest were ever as perfect.”
Cam balled his hand into a fist. “So you took her that day? When I didn’t pick her up.”
“I was waiting at your house. With a gun. I would have taken her that day whether you were with her or not. I was done waiting.”
Cam gasped at the bolt of unexpected relief—Erin’s disappearance wasn’t on any of their shoulders. If he or Bobby had been there—or worse, his mom or Keith—then there would have been more tragedies.
A gun cocked on the other end of the line and Cam’s relief vanished, replaced with fear. “I’m done waiting now,” Harper said. “You meet me at Fish Pier tonight with the keys to one of your family’s boats if you ever want to see your lawyer again.”
Fear dissolved, anger burning it away. Cam was done waiting too. He’d be seeing Harper—and Nic—sooner rather than later.
Nic didn’t know Boston all that well, but he didn’t think they’d actually ended up far from where they’d started. They’d driven away from downtown, over another channel, then crisscrossed through blocks, at least twice passing the same spot. Like Harper was either trying to lose a tail or waiting until no one saw him drive into the little alley.
He let himself be manhandled into a dilapidated old house and to the basement stairs. Playing the attorney, not the SEAL. They’d found Shannon in a basement like this. The garage holding area had been in a similar basement. Maybe the clues he needed to find Erin would be in this one.
“Get in there.” Harper shoved him forward, and Nic stumbled down the first few steps. “I’m gonna call Twenty-four and tell him if he ever wants to see you again, he’s gonna get me a boat out of here.”
Harper threw the door closed, plunging Nic into total darkness. “Fuck!” He took the stairs slowly and moved carefully into the room.
Not carefully enough, crashing into something a step later.
And on the heels of the racket came a whimper.
He froze. “Is someone in here?”
Another whimper, then stifled as if a hand was blocking the noise.
“I’m here to help.” He slowly inched forward, testing the area with his feet and hands, trying not to knock anything else over. This sure as shit was easier with night vision goggles. “My name’s Nic.”
Movement to his right, someone shuffling away from him.
