THIRTY-FOUR
The afternoon was nearly gone when Reese drove out of Shreveport in the black Ford pickup, Kenzie riding nervously in the seat beside him. Chase drove in the SUV with Brandon. Better to have two vehicles in case something went wrong.
Which undoubtedly it would. That was just the way the world worked. They had discussed asking Hawk to help, but his sights were set on Jeremy Bolt. They needed him to bring Bolt in, needed a way to prove Bolt had killed Lee Haines.
None of them wanted to return Griff to a home where his mother faced years in prison.
As they left the city, Reese turned onto US 71 and drove southeast about forty minutes toward the area known as Loggy Bayou. They passed through rural farm country before turning down a dirt road leading east into the bayou.
Reese glanced over at Kenzie. With no cell service, she was using maps she had previously downloaded to find the safest route in and out, giving him directions along a lane on the opposite side of the stream that wound through the woods beside the cabin. Which meant they could travel the road without running into one of the kidnappers heading back to the city. Plus the terrain along the riverbank was highly overgrown, shielding the vehicles as they got closer to their objective.
Behind him, Chase had dropped back a little so one vehicle could provide cover for the other. Reese wished Kenzie had stayed at the hotel, but he hadn’t even suggested it.
No way was she staying behind while he went after her son. “I can help you,” she’d said. “I can do what I do best—take care of the detail work. That will free all of you up to go in after Griff.”
She was right. The maps she was using were invaluable. She was also monitoring the sat phone Brandon had brought with him. Once they got there, they would be using handheld two-way radios, which Kenzie would monitor to make sure everyone stayed connected. Though Reese worried about her, she was a real asset. He had to stay focused on that.
“The cabin’s about half a mile ahead,” Kenzie said.
Reese slowed as she relayed the message to Chase. At a quarter of a mile, he pulled off the dirt road and backed into a thick copse of trees while Chase backed the SUV out of sight a little farther away.
Reese spotted them walking toward the pickup, gear bags slung over their shoulders. Bran was carrying the drone, which he set up on the tailgate of the truck.
“DJI Mavic 2 Pro.” Bran held the small device in the palm of his hand. “This one works with a 1000TVL mini FPV camera. We can control it from the pilot’s viewpoint and at the same time record the surround as a video file.”
“So I guess you don’t need cell service or Wi-Fi to run the thing,” Reese said.
Bran just grinned. “That’s the beauty of it. Kenzie’s already downloaded the files necessary to view the drone’s progress on her iPad.”
“And it’s nice and quiet,” Chase added. “With any luck, it’ll give us the intel we need and won’t be spotted.”
“We’ll make a run with the drone,” Bran said. “Then spread out and walk the creek, traverse the area, and find the best place to cross. We’ll send the drone out one more time before it gets dark. Once we’ve got the intel, we map out a plan. Soon as we have what we need, we go in.”
Now that the mission was actually under way, Bran had taken charge. He was a former Delta Operator, one of the most elite soldiers in the world. Going into a hostage situation was something he had done a dozen times, probably a lot more. Reese was grateful to have his brother along.
Bran launched the drone, then steered it in the direction of the cabin, careful to keep it at a high altitude. Reese watched the progress on the iPad screen as the drone flew over the clearing in front of the cabin. Three cars appeared, parked haphazardly along the creek—an old Jeep Wrangler, a dirty four-door sedan, and an older Chevy SUV.
The drone flight continued, circling the swampy area from high above. The first man who came into view was rangy, with a mustache and dark brown hair. The second guy was average height, with a stocky build and wearing wraparound sunglasses, his hair hidden beneath a Dallas Cowboys ball cap. The third guy was big and muscular, with mocha skin and long black hair pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck.
None of them looked like they belonged in a suit. This was the hired muscle. They probably only worked for DeMarco when he needed extra manpower. Which meant his regular crew was likely inside the cabin.
Not good.
“Griff has to be inside,” Reese said. “These three guys wouldn’t be here unless DeMarco was expecting trouble.”
“Hard to tell exactly how many we’re dealing with,” Bran said.
“Nolan Webb’s got to be in with Griff,” Chase said. “Tabby’s keeping an eye on his cell number. She’d call if she’d pinged him in a different location.”
“Could be more than just him,” Reese said.
Chase shifted his attention back to the screen. “We’ll know more after our second drone run. Be interesting to see if anyone leaves or anyone new shows up.”
“Roger that,” Bran said.
Reese, who wasn’t very good at waiting, clenched his jaw. Every instinct for trouble that he had honed in his bad-boy days said Griff was in the cabin. He wanted to go in and bring him out.
But his brothers were right. They needed as much information as they could get before they acted. As CEO of a company involved in hundred-million-dollar business deals, he understood that better than most.
