Child’s play.
She’d never trust a door again.
If she lived through this, she would be putting shatterproof windows in her house and some kind of kickproof doors.
Fires?She thought.Shut up,she told that voice. That wasn’t the present danger.
Blue went in.
A moment later he was back with a piece of paper in hand. “He’s not here, but it’s right place.” He waved the paper at Black. “Gabriel Atworth.”
“In,” Gunman said.
That was the last place Sommer wanted to go. “Whiskey needs to potty.” Without asking permission, she bent to unhook her lead.
Sommer didn’t know what she was hoping for.
It wasn’t like Whiskey was an attack dog of any kind.
Maybe if Sommer found a way to leave Whiskey outdoors, a neighbor would see the dog or a passing car would call the number on her tags.
Would Gabriel have thought to change the tags with his own number?
Surely, yes. He seemed so methodical in his thinking.
Sommer rubbed Whiskey’s neck, glancing at the tag. That might be the number Gabriel had put in her phone.
“You’re such a good girl,” she said, trying to keep her tone even.
Right now, Sommer was so grateful that she had been trained to work under high stress and adrenaline dumps. Her experience kept her functional.
Somewhat functional.
“Whiskey go potty.” She used the same words and the same hand gesture she’d seen Gabriel use.
Whiskey looked her hard in the eye. And Sommer thought of the graveyard and the howling. If Whiskey went there and did that, someone would notice and try to find the owner.
She pictured that scene hard.
She pushed the picture with her mind toward Whiskey.
She did it in a knee-jerk way, a wishful, hopeful way.
“Go potty,” she said. And making sure Whiskey watched, she pointed toward the church. “Go.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Gabriel
Saturday Night
“You’re close, Pensky,” Gabriel said into the phone on his desk set to speaker. “If this is correct, you’re right around the corner.” He sat in his office with the lights out, a satellite map open on his computer, and the conference call open. “Can you go to that address? I’ll stay on the phone. If it’s the wrong place, then I need to keep working on this.”
A phone call buzzed, Sloane.
He was afraid if he didn’t answer, she’d keep ringing.
“Gabriel Atworth,” he said, letting the other call go on hold.
