two days since Kira had disappeared. The two longest days of Rebecca’s life. Whatever happened next would be easier.
Unless—
She wouldn’t even let herself think it.
The handful of travelers who had left the train at Zaragoza walked past, stealing looks at the drama.
“Mr. Unsworth? Mrs. Unsworth?” The man in the suit held up a single finger, Hold on, please. A minute ticked by on the digital clock. Behind them, the train’s doors closed. A moment later it pulled out of the station, accelerating, leaving the platform behind. Rebecca felt strangely sorry to see it go. Maybe someone on there had been watching them. Maybe they’d missed a clue.
The clocks ticked to 22:57. If this cop was talking about anything other than Kira, Rebecca would kill him.
“Sí. Sí.” Finally he pocketed the phone, turned to them.
“I’m Lieutenant Suarez. I’m sorry, but that call was about your daughter. Come with me, por favor.”
“We were told to wait here for instructions.”
Suarez shook his head. “It’s possible we may have found where they held her.”
“How?” Rebecca said.
“A fire, a ghost town in the area where the CIA”—he meant NSA, Rebecca assumed—“found the phone. Come, please.”
“Ghost town?” Nothing was making much sense.
“A housing development that was never finished. Because of the financial crisis. Spain has many—” He walked down the platform, giving them no choice but to follow.
“We sent a patrol to the area northwest of Zaragoza as soon as we received the information about the phone. Now the officers say they’ve seen a fire in one of those developments. They’re going to the house. But it’s kilometers off the highway.”
“Hold on.” Brian grabbed Suarez’s shoulder.
“Señor—”
“No one knows if this fire is connected to any of this. If Kira was there, much less if she still is.”
“The timing is strange. To say the least.”
Rebecca reached for Brian, found herself looking at pure male rage, his eyes slits. If he couldn’t calm down he would deck Suarez and then the cops would have no choice but to arrest him.
And Suarez was right, coincidences were rarely coincidences at moments like these.
“Bri, listen—”
“You’re the one who said we should wait here.”
“No, this is good news, I promise.” Maybe better to keep him away just in case. She handed him the phone and the Toyota key. “I’ll go. Stay here if they call.”
She saw him gather himself, nod. “If they do, I’m doing what they say. Whatever it is.”
“Yes, but call me—”
“Go, then.” He turned away, stalked down the platform. Toward the west, open end of the station. Toward nothing.
* * *
She understood. Wasn’t even upset with him. Suarez led her through the station, outside. Two police cars waited in front, their lights flashing. He walked her past those, across a wide boulevard, into an empty parking lot.
“Where are we going?”
He pointed east into the night sky. She heard the thrum of a helicopter, distant but closing fast. A minute later she saw its spotlight, following the train tracks toward the station, just a couple hundred feet off the ground. She couldn’t see the bird itself, though. Must have been black.
The engine noise picked up and the spotlight pinned them. She shielded her eyes against the glare as the bird leveled out and then landed in the lot. A Bell 407, a standard long-range seven-seater. The FBI used them too. The door swung open. Garza, the special ops colonel, waved to her. She ducked her head, ran through the wash, glad to see him despite everything. Two men dressed in black were in the back, along with an empty seat. For Brian, presumably. Rebecca buckled herself into the harness and pulled on her headphones. The Bell rose into the night and turned north over the center of Zaragoza.
“You followed us?”
“Yes.” Garza’s voice was raspy in the headphones.
“Thank you.”
“Your husband?”
“Waiting at the train station for instructions. He has the money.” Though she wondered now, what if this were some ruse to divide them, isolate the cash, take the bag from Brian with no cops around? Could the kidnappers have guessed they’d split up?
“They told you about the fire? They’re sending firefighters but it will be a bit. The nearest station is twenty kilometers and they say the road to the development is not good. We may get there first. The police just reached it but the house is burning too fast, they can’t go inside.”
“Have they seen anyone?”
“No.”
Good news, bad news? She didn’t know.
* * *
The Bell topped out at one hundred sixty miles an hour. They left downtown Zaragoza behind