Interesting indeed. Between the father and the son, the family has deep roots in law enforcement.
“Maybe we should pay Marshall Browning a visit,” Joe suggests.
Sounds reasonable enough—there’s no way Browning isn’t somehow involved in this—but I don’t think wasting time rushing out to his apartment is going to get us anywhere.
“Assuming he’s the one we’re looking for and he has Sawyer, he’s not keeping her in an apartment. First of all, it’d be hard to get her inside without someone seeing or hearing something. Too risky, especially since he would’ve had to leave her there to shoot up Remington’s place,” I argue, trying not to think about the possibility Browning had no reason to worry about Sawyer making any noise. “Also, where would he have kept the Crown Vic? In the apartment building’s parking lot? He might as well have marked himself with a big red X on the map.”
“He’s right,” Matt agrees. “Plus, we already know he’s not working alone. Where does the old man live?”
During the few minutes it takes Joe to pull up the information, I notice the rest of the house has gone quiet. Chad and Becky must’ve put their argument to rest. For now, at least.
Good thing too, or I might’ve put a bullet in the guy.
Still, the silence is as welcome as it is a little unnerving and I decide to poke my head out of the room to spot Becky sitting on the couch, obviously crying, and there’s no sign of her husband. I would’ve noticed if he’d left so I’m sure he’s somewhere in the house. Who knows, maybe he’s on the phone with his lawyer complaining about FBI brutality. Like I fucking care.
I leave Becky to her own devices and turn back to the guys.
“He’s got a place on Cave Run Lake.”
I’m surprised when Joe mentions the place where Sawyer and I went camping what now seems like ages ago.
“I know the area,” I volunteer. “It’s pretty remote.”
“It’s also an hour and a half from here. Not exactly next door,” Joe points out.
“That would only work in their favor,” is Matt’s response. “It’s also about the same distance from either West Virginia or Ohio, giving them a way out of state fast. Plus, there’d be virtually no neighbors to speak of and little to no local traffic, making it easy to monitor anyone approaching.”
I’m already shrugging into my jacket when he adds, “It would be the perfect hideout.”
“Let’s go,” I announce.
“Hold on one second,” Matt stops me. “Let me see where Byron and the others are. They can go—”
I shake my head abruptly.
“Any chance my daughter’s there, I’m going. I know the area,” I repeat my earlier comment.
Matt glares at me, but I won’t back down. I’ll quit if I have to. Either way, I’m going.
“Goddammit, Mitch,” Matt barks, but he’s already grabbing for his coat as well. “Joe, you stay. I’ll send Byron here to join you. Punani and Dresden should stick around so you have wheels on the ground if something should move here. Oh, and keep your eye on the husband,” he adds.
“You’re going in without backup?” Joe questions him.
“No. I’m calling Walker from the road.”
We rush out the door, leaving it to Joe to pass on to Becky what is going on. He can handle it. We don’t have time for explanations.
“I’m driving,” Matt orders when I’m heading for my car.
I’ve barely gotten into the passenger seat when my phone starts to ring.
“It’s Jacob,” I tell Matt.
The timing is curious to say the least. It’s after one in the morning and it looks like no one is sleeping.
“Jacob,” I answer. “I’m putting you on speaker.”
“I won’t keep you long. Wanted to give you a heads-up. My team may have found a possible lead to a place the kids may be held. Possibly your daughter as well. They left about fifteen minutes ago. I’ll call you as soon as I get any more information.”
“Where?” Matt snaps, but is met with silence. “Fucking hell, Branch. Where?”
“I’m sorry, I seem to have a poor connection. What was that?”
The phone goes dead after that.
“That son of a bitch cut us off.”
“Before you could tell him to stand his team down,” I observe. “What do you want to bet they’re heading for Cave Run Lake.”
“Fucking amateurs will only get in our way,” Matt grumbles.
I think amateurs is a bit of a misnomer—so far these women have more than proven their intelligence and their mettle—but that doesn’t mean I want them facing off with the kind of power I’m afraid these men can pull together.
Especially when my daughter’s life is in the balance.
Or Kate’s, for that matter, because there’s no doubt in my mind, she’ll probably end up leading the charge.
I glance over at Matt.
“Floor it.”
TWENTY-SIX
Opal
“It’s Mitch again,” I tell Janey.
It’s the third time he’s called and just like the other times, I silence the call. We’d contacted Jacob on our way out of town, and he said he’d give us a head start before contacting the CARD team. His faith in us to get the job done is a confidence boost I welcome. Doubt had been creeping in since we left, wondering if I didn’t owe it to Mitch to let him know right away. After all, his daughter’s life could be on the line if we fail.
This time when the ringing stops it is shortly followed by the ping of an incoming message.
“Mitch as well, I presume?” she suggests.
It is.
“He says they’re about fifteen minutes behind us and to pull over and wait for them.”
“Ha! Not a chance in hell, buddy,” Janey comments.
As much as I know ignoring his wishes and forging ahead is a risk, every minute of delay could be the difference between life and death for those kids, and that includes his daughter.
I can apologize later when we hand over his girl.
Provided she’s alive and breathing.
“We can do this,” my friend reassures me gently, clearly not oblivious to my internal struggles. “We gather intel, evaluate the information and strategize, then we mobilize and execute. Like we’ve done before.”
She quotes GEM’s mission statement almost verbatim, one Jacob drilled into us from the beginning.
I nod in response before focusing on the satellite app open on my phone, showing all the different routes of approach open to us. Unfortunately, all of them will require a fair bit of trudging through the woods to sneak up unseen.
The last thing we want is to alert the men I’ve become convinced are hiding out there—Kendrick, Browning, and likely his son—and cause them to panic.
The route I instruct Janey to follow is one that avoids populated areas as much as possible once we get off Highway 64. It also stays away from what would be a more direct route to the property. I found a trailhead where we can leave the SUV about a two-mile hike from the residence. Rough terrain too, but nothing we can’t handle, even carrying our gear.