"You know I'm right," Atticus pushes.
"Even if you are," I grit out. "It doesn't mean we'll be able to get whatever it is out of him."
We tried that once. It didn't work. All we did was upset him even more.
"We need to get him off all those meds. Away from that graveyard of a house where he lives in a past that no longer exists."
"Atty, I…" Elijah clenches Aurora's necklace in his fist, voice trembling.
"We'll figure it out," I tell him, grabbing him by the arm to help him stand.
"Do you think he's hurt her?" The question falls from his mouth. "Do you think she's?—"
He bares his teeth, and his arm goes rigid in my grip.
He's in no state to fight.
Atty is right. We have to go.
"Get us out of here, Atticus."
He nods.
"That armored car is totaled."
He's already moving when he calls out, "I saw a garage around the side. Let me get some wheels. Meet me out front in three minutes."
62
THE HUNTER
SEVEN
Somehow, we make it away from the villa and the Costa Brava without interference or incident.
I can't help the needling feeling that the only reason is becausehewanted us to, and I'm not fucking ready to think about what that means yet.
We switched cars three hours ago and doubled back, ditching the gear and showering off the blood to head inland toward the Girona airport. But every mile we've put between Ro's last known location and where we're headed has felt like another nail being hammered into her coffin.
There has to be a trail here.
Something that can lead to where she's been taken.
Rationally, I know Ambrose wouldn't leave a loose end for us to find, and I saw with my own eyes that he left not a single member of his staff alive to question.
But…I can't leave without trying. Shouldn't we try?
Atticus pulls off the highway toward the airport, and I watch a plane fly overhead, taking off into the night.
Nope.
Can't do it.
"Stop the car."
Atticus's forehead wrinkles. "What?"
"Pull over."
