Dusk (Dangerous Web #1) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,23

the country. He’s already spoken to Carlos Perez from Denver, and I reached out to Sasha Bykov in Detroit. They had nothing significant to report. Without giving them too much information, we warned them to be extra vigilant.”

Mason walked to the other keyboard and began typing. “Here’s the map of the ranch and beyond,” he said. “I can get a paper map too.”

“We could use that later,” Sparrow said. He looked at me. “I know you don’t want to, but go up to your suite, Lorna’s, soon.”

My gaze narrowed. “Why?”

Sadness seeped from his being. “Just do it. I went up and took a look around. Granted, I don’t know every fucking purse Araneae carries, but the one with all her things is upstairs in the closet.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Sorry, I could confirm that by checking the trackers.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I guess I wanted to see.” He turned to Mason. “It definitely was a helicopter. Back behind the building where we are going to house the capos, you can see how the blades blew the tall grass.”

“You went out there?” Mason asked.

“Yes. Patrick and I were looking at the building you mentioned.”

I recalled Mason’s concern. “Can we get a good print on the landing skids?”

“Not perfect, but close,” Sparrow replied.

Mason looked at me. “I’ll go out there and measure their length before we head down to the bunkhouse.” He looked to Sparrow. “It will probably be dark by the time we get back.”

Sparrow nodded. “I’m ready to start doing something.”

Mason turned to me. “You good?”

“No,” I replied honestly. “But this” —I lifted my chin to the screens— “is what I do. It makes me feel like I’m doing something.”

“I’ll text you with the measurements on the skids. Text or call if you learn something.”

“What about the capos?”

“Patrick is on that,” Sparrow replied.

Mason’s large hand slapped my shoulder. “We’re getting them back.”

“What about ransom?” Sparrow asked. “We haven’t heard anything.”

“We need to keep all lines of communication open,” I said.

After both men left, I began scanning the three different security programs we’d combined. Mason was right about one thing: it would take someone with a higher understanding of security to override this system. Hitting a few keys, I created a visual readout of the three programs and ran them in parallel format. I continued working, narrowing down the exact time of the breach to within seven minutes.

“Reid,” Laurel said from the doorway with a plate in her hand. She forced a smile. “It’s late. I brought you some dinner.”

Dinner?

I turned to the clock on the screen. It was nearly eight thirty, which was nine thirty in Chicago, and yet I wasn’t hungry. I’d been too consumed with what I had been doing. It also didn’t help that the office was windowless.

She carried the plate closer and placed it and a fork wrapped in a napkin on the desk beside the keyboard and my notes. From a pocket in her oversized sweater, she pulled out a water bottle. “Still sealed.” When I didn’t respond, she added, “I know what it’s like to get lost in your work.”

I looked at the long table. “Laurel, this is your house. You don’t have to leave me alone if you have work you want to do.”

“I have a lot I want to do. Right now, I’d do anything to help you find Lorna and Araneae.”

The sight of the food returned my stomach to life. “It looks delicious.”

“I don’t profess to have the culinary skills of your wife.”

I grinned. “I don’t think many can.”

“Was she always a good cook?” Laurel asked.

I thought back to when Lorna and I were first married. Hell, we hadn’t known one another that long. I could say we were in love. I think I was. I think she was. It was a difficult time, and I knew I’d do anything to keep her safe. Cooking was something she wanted to do. Hell, before her, the four of us lived on takeout and packaged meals. Anything was an improvement over that.

The memories brought on an unexpected and needed smile.

“If I tell you the truth, you have to promise you’ll tell her what I say when we have her home.”

“You want me to tell?” Laurel asked as she turned a chair toward me and took a seat at the long table.

“I do.” I imagined my wife’s smile, the way her green eyes could tell an entire story, and how she could communicate without saying a word. “Lorna and I have always been painfully honest with