“Hey, Heath,” Matt said, his hard jaw set. “We’re ready to roll the second you need us.”
Warmth bloomed through Heath. They weren’t alone—not by a long shot. Although Anya was. Fury cut through him. “Right now, I need intel. We have no clue where she’s been taken.”
Matt turned to a computer screen and punched a couple of buttons. “Holy shit,” he muttered, his eyes widening.
Heath dropped to sit on the stairs and fought the chill in the air. The garage was freaking cold. “I take it you know the fake U.S. Marshal D. J. Smithers?” he asked.
Matt lifted the phone so only his face was visible. “Yeah. His real name is Daniel, and he’s still working with Dr. Madison, it looks like.”
“He’s a lunatic,” Heath said.
“Jesus,” Shane said, taking the phone. “He worked undercover with my wife for a while before I found her. God. To think he’s the Copper Killer.”
Josie didn’t have red hair, and that alone had probably saved her life. “He just started killing recently, I think.”
“Oh fuck,” Shane said grimly. “Doesn’t something trigger serial killers?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“The timing of this whole case,” Shane said, his eyes burning. “We killed the commander, and Daniel was always close to him. That had to be the trigger.”
“Shane?” Matt said urgently. “If Daniel is working with Madison, then . . .”
Shane gasped. “Maybe?”
Heath leaned in. “What? Tell me. What?”
Shane’s expression turned thoughtful. “Dr. Madison has always liked to keep track of her soldiers. She tagged us. If Daniel is working for Madison, she has him tagged somewhere. A microchip . . . under the skin. The guy probably doesn’t even know it’s there.”
For the first time in hours, hope rushed through Heath. “If he’s gone off the grid, as we know he has, maybe she activated it?”
“Definitely,” Shane said. “Listen. An activated tracker has a frequency, and we can find it. The signal would use radio-frequency identification. I mean, it’s a long shot, but a tracker would send out a signal. We just have to find the right frequency and hope it’s activated.”
“I’m familiar with RFID,” Heath said, his chest compressing. “We’ll need to increase the sensitivity of Denver’s antenna to pick up the frequency, if there is one.” The killer usually stayed close to the abduction town, so it might actually be possible. “You guys work the problem from your end as well. Please send Denver all the data you have on those chips, especially frequency.”
Shane sat next to Matt, their faces taking up the entire screen. “I’m on it right now.”
Heath clicked off and ran through the old kitchen to the living room, quickly explaining everything to his brothers and Zara.
Denver scratched his head. “I need supplies to increase the sensitivity, and the storm ain’t gonna help the antenna any.” He stood and grabbed his jacket. “I’ll be right back.”
Heath dropped into a chair. His mind kept going to what was happening to Anya right that second as he sat on his ass. He curled his hands into fists, and his lungs seized.
“We’ll get her back, brother.” Ryker reached over and clasped his good shoulder. “I promise we’ll get to her in time.”
Heath nodded, knowing full well his brother couldn’t make that promise.
Zara kept making notations. “Some of the smartest people in the world are trying to find her, including us. We’ll get her.” A fine tremor threaded through her voice.
“I can’t lose her now,” Heath whispered, dark clouds falling through him. The idea of a life without Anya cut deep and festered. He stood. There had to be something to do. As he looked around the dismal room with the storm billowing outside, he realized there was nothing to do until Denver got back.
God. Where was Anya?
Sheriff Cobb hitched up his jeans and waited until his one true love exited her office and barreled right into him. He grasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”
Isobel pushed her dark hair away from her face. “On a mission, love. It concerns the lab and not you.”
He pivoted and put her back to the wall. His chest burned, and his gut ached. “I can’t let you go alone. It’s a dangerous world.” How far would she take the charade?
