Concern darkened the girl's expression. "If this goes sideways and you need someone to tell the actual story... I've got it all written down."
Gabe felt something in his chest tighten. "Thank you. If we're not back by oh-seven hundred, call my friend Tyler Price. He's with the State Police and he's aware of the situation." Most of it, anyway, he reminded himself. "Tell them everything. Give him Tom's evidence."
Piper's voice turned fierce. "You'll be back."
On the laptop screen, David continued pacing back and forth, never stopping, never giving up.
They were going to do this, and it was going to work.
It had to work.
They had a location, a plan, equipment incoming.
And they had their Lord's protection, the only thing Gabe had more faith in than the selfless people at his side.
37
The equipment had arrivedat two in the morning as promised, dropped by Reagan's contact at the overlook north of town in a wordless exchange—just two duffel bags that changed everything. By four-thirty they were on the road, Gabe driving with Cara in the passenger seat while Wade followed in his truck. They'd prayed together before leaving, Gabe's voice steady as he asked for protection and wisdom and bringing David home safe. Now, at five-forty-five, they crouched in the tree line half a mile from Cape Mercy Coast Guard Station as the complex emerged from fog and pre-dawn darkness like something out of a nightmare.
Tom's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Guard rotation complete. You have a four-hour window."
Wade moved first, slipping between trees with the confidence of someone who'd done night operations before. Gabe followed, his training from years of counter-intelligence work engaging fully. Cara stayed close behind them, moving quietly through the coastal forest.
The station sat on a rocky point jutting into the Pacific. White buildings weathered by thirty years of salt air andneglect. The watch tower loomed against the lightening sky. The operations building remained dark except for one second-floor window where light spilled out into the darkness.
Wade's voice barely reached him. "That's where they’re keeping him."
Tom spoke through the earpiece. "Two guards main entrance. Rotating every fifteen minutes."
They positioned in shadows at the tree line. Gabe's heart hammered against his ribs under the vest. This was it. No turning back.
Whatever happened next, David came out alive.
Tom's voice stayed steady in their ears. "Guards changing position... now. Move."
They broke from the tree line and approached the north side of the main building where Tom had identified the camera blind spot. Wade reached the fire door first, pulling out a set of lockpicks no fisherman should need.
The lock gave with a soft click that shouldn't have been possible.
Gabe filed that observation with everything else he knew about Wade Patterson.
They moved through the door in formation. Wade took point. Gabe followed with Cara close behind.
The interior smelled like salt and decay. Concrete walls wept condensation. Rust stained everything the color of old blood.
Evidence of recent occupation marked the space—boot prints in the dust, coffee cups on a folding table, a jacket draped over a chair.
They crossed through what had been a ready room and moved into the covered walkway connecting buildings. The structure groaned around them. Decades of neglect and salt air made every sound amplified and threatening.
Gabe's instincts screamed that something was wrong.
The approach had been too easy.
He could tell Wade felt it too. His hand signals became more cautious, his movements more controlled.
The walkway opened into the main operations building. Two stories of administrative offices built to command search and rescue operations across hundreds of miles of coastline.
Gabe scanned the space. Emergency lighting cast everything in sickly green. Exit signs glowed above doors that probably didn't open anymore. The building had died when the Coast Guard pulled out. What remained was just a corpse someone was using.
