Page 62 of Rafe’s Future

With a handheld tactical flashlight, Lena checked the doorframe and latch for wires or other signs of a trap. Finding none, she turned off the light and slid it into her back pocket.

“Here goes nothing,” she whispered, reaching out and carefully opening the storm door.

It creaked loudly, sending her gaze flying back to his. Frozen, she waited a beat longer before trying the main door’s knob. They both shared a look of surprise when it proved to be unlocked.

“Damien? Roger?” She called out for her friends again. “It’s Lena. Are you here?”

Normally, they wouldn’t announce their presence. But given the situation, it was better to risk alerting their enemies than die by friendly fire.

Not a single light in the cabin was turned on, so they used their flashlights to see through the dark. Rafe followed Lena as they moved farther inside.

To their right was a modest living room big enough for a couch, recliner, and a couple of end tables. Straight ahead was a small, eat-in kitchen, and beyond that was a door leading to the backyard.

Rafe shined his flashlight in that direction. Even from here, he could see the door’s locks were in place. He moved closer to ensure no one was hiding around the corner of the room’s open doorway.

As suspected, he found the kitchen void of any threats.

He swung the beam of his handheld light to the right, illuminating the short corridor leading to the cabin’s only bedroom. With a silent motion, Lena confirmed her understanding with a nod.

Their footfalls were silent as they moved along the narrow space between the back of the couch and the wall to their left. They came to a stop at the closed bedroom door.

A quick, thorough sweep confirmed no signs of tampering. They shared a weighted look, a silent exchange before Lena drew a steadying breath and pushed the door open.

Like before, he provided the high cover while the capable woman swept low. Rafe was a shadow behind her, his trained eyes scanning the bedroom for anything that could bring them harm. When they found none, Lena gave a slight tilt of her head before slipping toward the en suite bathroom.

The room was small, and she was more than capable, so Rafe moved to the nearby closet. Finding it empty, he was pulling the folding doors shut when Lena’s sharp cry sliced through the silence.

The emotional expression on her face, however, kept his protective instincts on high alert.

“Lena?” He slowly inched his way forward. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She was standing in front of the bathtub with her gun at her side and her free hand gripping the plastic shower curtain’s edge. “I-it’s Damien.” Her watery gaze fell back to the part of the tub he couldn’t see.

Ah, hell.

Rafe went to her side, following the invisible line running from her eyes to the tub. A low curse fell from his lips when he saw Damien Pascal’s body. The CIA officer who’d worked under Lena’s command for years had been shot once in the center of his forehead.

Just like Lionel James.

“He’s cold to the touch.” She spoke woodenly, her voice thick with emotion. “I tried checking for a pulse.” Her voice grew thick with emotion, but she played it off, huffing out a humorless laugh. “The guy has a bullet hole in the middle of his head, but the first thing I did was grab his wrist to be sure he was actually gone. Stupid, right?”

“It’s not stupid, sweetheart. Damien wasn’t merely a subordinate or one of your colleagues. He was your friend.” The third one she’d lost in less than two weeks. “You’re entitled to be sad.”

“I’m not sad; I’m pissed.” Her features hardened as she released the curtain’s edge. “And worried, because we still have no idea where Roger is, or if he’s even still alive.”

“He’s alive.” Rafe was certain. “If he’s not here, then he either managed to get away, or they took him.”

Lena crossed her arms. “It doesn’t make sense for him to kill Caleb, Sabrina, and Damien, but then take Roger alive.”

“I agree. So we go with the theory that he managed to get away.”

“And we need to get to him before whoever did this finds him. Problem is we have no idea how long Roger’s been gone.”

Rafe’s attention returned to the man who’d been ruthlessly executed and left to rot. “West said both cell signals he picked up went dark simultaneously. Damien’s body was left inside, away from the elements. The air conditioning is running, and—” He spun on his heels and left the bathroom to check the thermostat next to the bedroom door. “Temps set at sixty-five,” he announced as he returned. “Given these conditions, rigor would start to set in between six and twelve hours following death. Full rigor would take approximately twelve hours to peak.”

Slivers of moonlight filtered in from the bathroom’s small window, giving her hazel stare a shimmering gleam. “Given how his arm felt when I touched him, I’d say he’s been dead about a day.” With a sniffle, she used the back of her hand to give a quick swipe at her nose. Lena’s voice sounded stronger when she added, “We need to find Roger.”

“I’ll take another look around back. Maybe something out there can lead us in the right direction.”