“I think it’s one of those old hunting cabins near the dry creek bed just off—” He stopped, breath catching. “Wait. I hear someone.”
Silence stretched thin and sharp.
“Please hurry,” he whispered. “I think they found me.”
Wallace hung up.
“Damn it,” Brenna snapped, gripping the phone tight.
She didn’t try to call him back. If the killer really was nearby, the sound of a ringing phone could give away his hiding spot. Instead, she quickly opened a text thread to Noah.
Can you trace the phone Wallace Kemp just used to call me? We’re en route to the location Wallace described. The old freight yard about ten miles out.ETA is six minutes,” she added after glancing at the GPS that Harlan had loaded.
She hit send, her thumb hovering a second longer before she locked the screen.
“They’re at the sheriff’s office,” she said aloud, her voice tight. “Naomi and Jared. They couldn’t be the ones doing this.”
Colt didn’t turn from the windshield. “They could’ve hired someone.”
Brenna exhaled slowly. “Yeah. They could’ve.”
Outside the window, the town of Crossfire Creek gave way to open land and long stretches of weathered fencing. Scrub brush and low trees blurred past as Harlan kept the SUV moving fast but steady. The road narrowed, weaving through the countryside as they closed in on the area Wallace had described.
Colt tapped at his phone. “I’ll start the background check on Jared. Socials, contacts, phone history. If he so much as looked up a hitman online, we’ll find it.”
Noah’s text came through.Working on the trace. Will update soon.
Brenna stared at the message. “It’s probably a burner,” she said, her voice low. “Still… if there’s even a sliver of a chance Wallace is there, we have to try.”
She didn’t say what they were all thinking. That it could be another trap.
Her phone vibrated again with another text from Noah.
Silent backup on the way to your location. ETA is about fifteen minutes.
Not long, but they couldn’t hold out for that long. Which meant they were on their own. Still, it was good to know that someone would have their six if things went sideways.
She relayed the info about backup to Harlan and Colt and continued to keep watch. Continued to ready herself for whatever they were about to face.
Colt’s phone was on the console now, the screen alive with data about Jared. The background check was already churning out results. Names, numbers, old addresses. Nothing jumped out yet, but it would.
Colt reached for a vest and winced when he pulled it on. “Gear up,” he told her.
She nodded and reached beneath the seat, pulling out a vest from the back and then a Glock from the ammo box. She checkedthe chamber and clicked the safety off before sliding the weapon into the holster at her side.
The thoughts wouldn’t stop. Was Wallace really out there, scared and injured, or were they charging into a setup?
Again.
She glanced at Colt. His jaw was tight with focus, his movements controlled but slower than usual. He was hurting. She knew he was nowhere close to one hundred percent, not after taking that shot to the ribs. But she also knew there was no keeping him out of this. Not now.
Not ever.
Harlan pulled over about a quarter of a mile from the location Wallace had given. The road was narrow and rutted, no real cover except the tree line. As soon as he killed the engine, he reached for his vest and weapon.
Colt checked his phone again, then cursed under his breath. “Jared has a connection to Timberline,” he said. “He dated one of the hostages. Sophia Serrano.”
Brenna’s stomach tightened. “The message left on Leah’s wall said Sophia was part of the drug supply chain. If that’s true, maybe Jared was too. Or maybe he’s trying to avenge her death.”
