I didn’t correct him.
I wanted to keep those moments in the cabin and on the ship close. They were just for us, not anyone else.
“Didn’t you say she and her old man talk shop?”
“Yeah. Said she didn’t want to live in the Glades with him because he was getting too nosy.”
He gave me a look that said,That’s something, isn’t it?
Was it possible her father was still keeping tabs on her business? Could he know who’d taken her?
I didn’t know.
But it was worth a shot.
“His name is Nathaniel Lane,” I told Arty. “In the Everglades is the best I can do.”
“Shouldn’t be too… there he is,” he said after what felt like ten seconds. “He doesn’t have a phone number.”
He probably used burners like his daughter. Some habits died hard. Especially after a whole life of his ‘consulting’ work.
“Give me an address.”
Arty rattled it off.
“Wait, let me get your brother to—”
“No. I’m going alone. I don’t want him to feel threatened. This isn’t a gang rolling up on him. It’s his daughter’s man showing up for help.”
“Alright,” Huck agreed. “But bring a gun and I want an update as soon as you get there. And again half an hour after that. I will be sending Dixon and Donovan out that way, though. Just in case. They won’t get close until you give them the go-ahead.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “Arty give me a burner,” I demanded.
He opened a drawer full of them and it took me just a few minutes to get it up and ready.
I took a picture of the sketch, programmed Huck’s number, then rushed out.
All I could hope for was that he wasn’t a shoot-first kind of guy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Caymen
Nathaniel lived way out in the middle of nowhere. It was all swampland with suspicious lumps everyone knew meant not to get too close unless you wanted to end up in a death roll at the bottom of the water.
The houses that did exist came out of the water itself—just stilts, oversized porches, and small homes.
From a tactical standpoint, I guess it made a lot of sense for a paranoid ex-military and ex-consultant to decide to retire.
He could likely see anyone coming for half a mile off. There was no sneaking up on the property when it was mostly gator-infested water. And when I got to his property, I saw that he didn’t have a firm deck like everyone else.
Nope.
This bastard had a fucking rope bridge. The kind he could sever or set on fire if he sensed an invasion.
I imagined off the back, he had a deck and a boat launch for an easy escape, too.
I could see why Noa turned out as smart and careful as she did, if this was the blueprint.
