“Nothing?” he bit out.
“Nothing useful, just like that guard told you. No coverage near the food stands. The horse trailers blocked everything in that area. They never even caught her leaving the grounds, much less if she’s really with Crowe.”
“He’s got her. I feel it in my gut.” Conviction rang in his voice, and Colt didn’t argue.
“Hold on to that, man. Listen to your gut.”
He swallowed. “She’s alive.”
Colt said nothing.
“She’s alive,” he said again, as if he repeated it enough times, it would become fact instead of the desperate hope currently clawing through his chest.
“She knows you’ll come for her.”
Confidence surged through him. Because shewouldknow.
After everything she’d survived with her ex, after years of learning not to depend on anybody, Summer finally trusted Pope. She believed in him to show up when things got ugly. And he intended to keep on proving himself to her.
Carson called, and Colt answered before Pope could grab for the phone himself.
“We’re setting a trap,” Carson said without formalities. “Highway patrol’s forcing all commercial trucks through the weigh station outside Sheridan.”
Pope’s pulse slammed harder.
“They know which truck?” Colt asked.
“We gave them the truck ID, plate, trailer number, everything.” More keyboard clicks rattled through the speakers. “Crowe’s still moving east. No deviation from route. No stops.”
Pope let his eyes slip shut for a brief heartbeat. If Crowe put her in that truck, she was still inside. Which meant he couldn’t have dumped her body.
“We’re about ten minutes behind him,” Carson continued. “Highway patrol’s staging units now. They’ll box him in once he enters inspection.”
“What if he runs?” Pope bit out.
“He won’t at first,” Carson said. “Guys like him survive by blending in. He’ll try to act normal until he realizes he’s trapped.”
Pope prayed Carson was right, because if Gary Crowe panicked before they got Summer out—
His stomach lurched hard enough to make him nauseated.
“Five miles out.” Colt stared at the map tracking across his screen.
Pope locked the pedal to the floor, and the truck surged fast enough to press them both into their seats. He threaded between two slower vehicles with inches to spare.
“Jesus Christ,” Colt muttered under his breath, grabbing the dash again.
The highway opened ahead in a long ribbon. Commercial trucks thickened the closer they got to Sheridan, every one of them funneling toward the weigh station.
Pope’s heart hammered painfully against his ribs.
One of those trucks held Summer. Rage pulsed so hot through Pope’s bloodstream it almost blurred his vision.
“She’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get her,” Colt said quietly.
Pope swallowed hard. “She has to be.” He couldn’t survive anything else.
The first flashing lights appeared in the distance several minutes later. Then came the weigh station itself.
