The sound of Blake’s voice had Ericka and Greg turning in tandem. Greg’s eyes narrowed and he fisted his hands to his sides.

  This didn’t portend well.

  ****

  “But I can’t leave. All my evidence is here. It’ll take days to pack it up.”

  Quinn had been having the same conversation with Fanny since he got off the phone with the Director. She didn’t seem to want to listen.

  “Look, I’ll call in people to pack up everything, but we have to go. You’re more important than any amount of stuff.”

  She patted his cheek. “That’s really sweet, but seriously, I’m not leaving without my evidence.”

  He sighed. “Fine. Get a box, a suitcase, and a garbage bag. We’ll throw it all in there and sort it later.”

  “That won’t work.”

  “Take pictures so you can remember how it went together.”

  “Do you have a moving truck?”

  “A moving truck?”

  “How did you get here today?”

  “I have a pickup truck.”

  “That might work. But what you see here on the wall are only copies. My originals are in a storage building out back.”

  “Still, let’s take some pictures.” Quinn pulled out his phone and started snapping. The sudden smell of smoke got his attention.

  Through a window in the back wall, he saw the red flames and the black smoke. Fanny must have noticed at the same time because she was about to run out the door toward the fire.

  He grabbed her around the middle and lifted her off the ground. Her legs were still going as if she was still running.

  “Fanny! You can’t run out there. We don’t know if the person who set the fire is still there.”

  “But my evidence! Everything I’ve collected over the last fifteen years.”

  She finally stopped moving, and he set her on the floor.

  “Yes, all of it is right here as well. Now grab something to put it in and let’s get it and get out of here.”

  He didn’t let her know, but he was looking around the sides of the mobile home for a figure, someone walking that shouldn’t be.

  He didn’t see anyone, but it didn’t matter. The grass had ignited, and it was moving toward the main mobile home. No amount of water would put out the fire that had started.

  “We have to leave it.”

  “I can’t!”

  “I took pictures, and you have your memory.”

  She didn’t budge.

  Quinn couldn’t wait any longer. He lifted her and threw her over his shoulder.

  She beat his back. “Quinn Miller, you put me down this instant!”

  “I will not, Fanny Larin. I won’t let you die.”

  “If I don’t find my brother I don’t want to live.”

  Her tiny fists struck his back over and over and he felt sorry for her. It didn’t help that he already knew her brother’s fate.

  He set her on the floor and put his hands on either side of her face. “Fanny, we’ve found your brother.”

  “What?”

  “But we need you to prove it. You have to come with me.” She needed to come before the arsonist decided to take them with the storage shed.

  “Is he dead?” Her lips trembled.

  It was almost his undoing. “Fanny…”

  “If you want me to move you will answer me.”

  “Yes. He’s been dead for fifteen years.”

  She gasped and covered her open mouth with her hand. Tears poured from her eyes. “But—”

  “I’ll explain everything, I promise. But you have to come with me now.”

  She nodded.

  He went out the door first. The whack to the back of his head had him seeing stars or was it little blue birds. He wasn’t sure.

  Fanny cried out. He thought someone was trying to take her, but he wasn’t sure. He balled his fist and punched. Soft flesh came into contact. He did it again. Grunts filled the air.

  “Come on, Quinn!”

  Fanny’s warm hand tugged his. He walked, he thought, but he wasn’t sure where. Somehow, he was in the truck. He could feel the warm leather beneath him.

  The sound of the doors locking was followed by beating on a window.

  “Keys!”

  “Huh?”

  “I need the keys.”

  He didn’t know if he was dreaming or really doing it, but he reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out keys.

  The motor revved and screeched a horrifying sound as darkness overtook him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Greg glared at Blake. They had moved their group to a conference room on the first floor. Food had been served. Several of them ate, some of them didn’t. He was one that couldn’t think about food at the moment.

  “Has anyone heard from Quinn?”

  No one said yes. Greg tried his number again, but it went to voice mail.

  “Try calling Maggie.” Ericka picked up a red grape and popped it into her mouth.

  He dialed Maggie and tapped his foot.

  “Hello?”

  “Maggie, it’s Greg.”

  “Oh, boss, how are you?”

  “Upset. But that is beside the point. I’m looking for Quinn.”

  “Just a moment.”

  Greg’s impatience was growing by the minute.

  “Sorry, we’re looking for him too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tristan’s parents wanted his stuff out of the house, so we brought down a moving van and Quinn was helping us, only you called, and he said he needed to borrow the truck and we haven’t heard from him since. That was yesterday. Tristan is upset. He loves that truck.”

  “I see. Well, if you hear from him make sure that he calls us.”

  “Where are you?”

  “We’re at a hotel somewhere in Asheville, I think.”

  “Oh, we’re close to there as well. Let us know if we can help.”

  “I will.”

  Greg hung up. He had no intention of calling Maggie while she was with her boyfriend. They would be fine without her. At least he hoped they would.

  He tried Quinn’s phone one last time.

  “Hello?”

  A female answered the phone.

  “Who is this?”

  “Fanny Larin.”

  “I’m looking for Quinn Miller. Why do you have his phone?”

  “Well, that is a bit of a long story. But if you know him then maybe you can give me some help.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “He was trying to rescue me, but I was being slow about going and when we stepped out of my trailer someone hit him over the head with a shovel. He fought him off but now he won’t wake up.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I think I’m close to Asheville. I was trying to reach the hospital, but I couldn’t get his phone to open, and I didn’t have mine. Can you help me?”

  “Give me a moment, and I’ll tell you where you need to go.” He pulled the phone away from his face and started barking orders. When he put it back to his mouth he asked her for a street name. She gave the name, and three people typed it in on their phones and proceeded to blurt out directions to the nearest hospital.

  “We’re going to meet you there.”

  “Thank you.”

  The lady stayed on the line. Holden continued to give directions as Blake, Greg, and Ericka left for the hospital. Why Blake had to come along was a mystery. He would have preferred anyone else, but there he was, right in the thick of things.

  Greg opened the door for the driver’s seat, but Blake climbed inside first. He turned the key and began attaching his phone to the onboard system. Ericka looked at Greg over the hood of the car. Her eyes widened.

  He opened the back door and climbed inside. Quinn was in trouble. They didn’t have time to wait. Ericka followed and entered the front passenger side.

  Blake pulled out onto the road. He kept a tight grip on the steering wheel as he weaved expertly in and out of heavy traffic.

  “I-I know you two didn’t want me along, but I want to update you on the case while we drive.”

  “Humph.” Greg folded his arms over his chest. He caught Blake’s gaze in the mirror. Yes, he was acting childish. Whomever had been in charge of the mission had put Ericka in danger by pushing to have her at the airborne school. Had that person known the base wouldn’t let Ericka help with the investigation? And why was Blake coming along or updating them on anything?

  “I know you don’t like me, with good reason, but this you need to hear.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “The woman that Quinn is with is a blogger by the name of Fanny Larin. She is the sister to Chopin.”

  Ericka turned slightly to face Blake, also catching Greg’s eye at the same time.

  “He was indeed taking documents from the base. I’m not sure what they were about, but no one wanted it to get out.

  “Anyway, Miss Larin showed Quinn a picture of the person that Chopin, or Issac Larin, was supposed to meet the night he absconded with the information.”

  He stopped talking and turned on his blinker. He waited for it to clear so he could turn left. Greg was biting the inside of his mouth to stay quiet as he made the difficult turn. But he wanted to know the information!

  “That was hairy.” Blake shook his head. “Oh, yes, where was I?”

  “The man, who was the man Larin was meeting?” Ericka bounced in the seat.

  “You won’t believe it.”

  “Try us.” Greg was getting impatient with Blake’s drawing out of the information.

  “Chief Ron Wexell.”

  “What?” Greg had crossed his arms, now he flopped them to the side, his hands striking the leather seats at a pace that made them sting.

  “You heard me. He was the local sheriff at the time. What’s worse is he assigned me to this case. He gave the two-week time frame and he met with me insisting he heard everything first.”

  “Well, maybe it’s just a coincidence. Maybe knows something, but…” Ericka stopped talking.

  She didn’t have a reason for what was happening, no more than Greg did. It seemed Wexell might be responsible. What other explanation could there be?

  “We need to meet with Fanny Larin. We have to talk to Quinn. And most of all, we need to know what kind of documentation was in that duffel bag.”

  Greg agreed. The what of what was stolen was more important than anything else.

  ****

  Tito looked around the lobby. Holden, Linda, Burle, and himself remained. Again.

  He was sitting on a paisley couch with a high back and wood framing. It was supposed to be fancy, which was probably why it was as hard as a rock and extremely uncomfortable.

  “Here we are again.” Burle sighed.

  Tito agreed. They were the ones that discovered the information about the canvas bag, but they were stuck in the hotel waiting.

  “What do we do now?” Linda was beside Holden. She had her fingers at the nape of his neck weaving around the curls that lay there.

  Tito didn’t mind much for their constant love fest, but there wasn’t much he could say. They were in a different unit entirely and in a different state. That would be up to their supervisor to regulate.

  He opened his mouth to say they could get rooms and dinner. That seemed to be all they knew how to do, but he paused. The main door opened. An elderly man with a brown suede long coat laying over his shoulders entered. He wore dark sunglasses, and he had on a hat set in a sideways angle. Clearly the man was attempting a disguise. It wouldn’t do any good. Tito knew exactly who he was.

  Chief Ron Wexell.

  Tito ordered the others to bend in a huddle. “It’s the Chief.”

  “Who? Where?” Burle tried to raise up and look, but Tito pushed his head back down.

  “He’s at the counter.” Now Tito knew what they had to do.

  “Linda, you need to follow him. If he spots you--”

  “Use my feminine charm?”

  “Exactly. My understanding is that he has a weakness for women.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Holden squeezed Linda’s hand and they shared a quiet chuckle.

  “Pay attention you two. Once you know what room he is in, text us. We’ll get one close by.” He paused to think. “Do you guys still have your equipment close by?”

  Holden nodded.

  “You and Burle go to the truck and see if you can rig anything we can use as a listening device.”

  Holden smiled. “Oh, that I can do.”

  Burle and Holden left. Holden stayed on the side next to the Chief. Having two people that he’d never seen before was going to be a big help.

  Linda had risen. She moved next to the elevator and looked down at her phone as the Chief approached. Being a gentleman, he might let her push the button first.

  Tito watched as the doors were open. Linda never looked up from her phone, so the Chief pushed the button, then she said something. Probably, thank you that is the same floor I’m on.

  Slick.

  Tito bounced his legs and waited on the text. Once Linda let him know the room number he jumped to his feet and went to the front desk.

  “I need a room.”

  “Let me see what we have available.”

  “Oh, no, I must be on the fourth floor.”

  “The fourth floor?”

  “Yes, and I need, I need, to be near room 413.”

  “Room 413?”

  “Yes. It is my lucky number. I can’t go near any other room, or I break out in hives.”

  “Hives?”

  He began to scratch his arms for effect.

  “Hives. Let me see what we have on the fourth floor near 413.” The desk clerk shook her head and mumbled under her breath.

  The room he mentioned wasn’t the Chief’s room. He was in the one across the hall and over one. They needed to be right beside him for the equipment to work and for them to not get caught. He hoped that his ploy worked.

  “Here you are, the keys to room 416. Directly across from 413.”

  “Thank you. That is perfect.” It truly was perfect.

  ****

  Director Manis and Monica leaned over the papers scattered over the conference table. It was every article that mentioned anything about the jump base in North Carolina.

  There was nothing negative about the actual base. People who had gone through the training and come out on the other side, had nothing but glowing reviews. The only people who were negative were those who had flunked out.

  That was understandable.

  Which meant they were missing something. James knew there was something there, they just weren’t seeing it.

  “Get some others on this. We need fresh eyes. We need to know what we’re missing.”

  “I’ll gather those that are in their offices.”

  Monica left. James studied the papers. He’d seen one that didn’t need to be seen by anyone else. He lifted it from the pile. He held it up as if to study it. He took it to the copier and pretended to copy it. He took a piece of plain paper back to the conference table. Then he walked to his office and placed the original in his bottom desk drawer. If he was being watched, it would appear as if he wanted his own copy.

  The image was of Tito. It was a satellite photo of his police unit exiting a building carrying canvas bags presumed to be full of money. He’d read the report. Many wanted the group arrested but there was no proof, only conjecture. James had convinced Wexell that the picture wasn’t proof of wrongdoing, it had been the only way that Tito would be hired. Even still, Wexell had kept the photo.

  Blackmail.

  Wexell kept the picture for blackmail.

  The elevator opened and loud voices carried to his office. He returned to the conference room to continue digging through Wexell’s files. Wexell’s office was in a different building across town.

  James had had his filing cabinet brought over under the guise of having it retrofitted.

  Breaking the lock to replace it was a maintenance special. Monica had created a backdated letter that conveniently never arrived that had informed Wexell’s office of the inconvenience of taking his safe.

  Now every file that Wexell had had secured was being shifted through and analyzed. Pictures had been taken to ensure that everything was put back exactly as before.

  “How should we sort?”

  A member of Charlie Team who James couldn’t remember the name of asked the first question. Monica looked to James for guidance.

  “Current cases in one pile, older cases in another.”

  Everyone sat in a chair and began looking. The current case file pile grew. The older case pile was considerable smaller.

  He nodded toward Monica. She began weeding through the older cases. He found it highly unlikely that Wexell would keep his condemning information in his office safe, but it was the easiest to check.

  Monica looked at him and shook her head in the negative. No information on the base or labeled in the appropriate year. That’s what they had agreed to search for. It would have helped if they knew what kind of information Chopin had taken from the base.

  “Archie.” Archie was the tech guy on Beta Team. He was amazing.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I want you to scan these files and look for anything that looks like code.”

  “Code, sir?”

  “Anything that isn’t what it appears.”

  “All the files, sir?”

  James debated. Should he do them all? Wexell was sneaky. Perhaps it would be best to look at them all. Wexell would distract with a detour if possible. James just knew it.

  “Yes, look at them all. The rest of you are free to go.” He hoped they weren’t making a mistake. But if Wexell’d had anything to do with the outcome of that young soldier, they had to take him down one way or the other.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Greg, Ericka, and Blake arrived at the hospital. They found the entrance easy enough but inside was a complete mess. The area was rounded. Glass walls were only stopped by hallways. Unmarked hallways.

  The front desk clerk couldn’t find Quinn Miller in the computer. When someone arrived and helped her find him, they were directed to the ER. The signage was almost non-existent. They had one sign to get them started, then nothing more.