Dusk (Dangerous Web #1) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,27

began filtering through the ventilation system at the top of the hour. When the two kidnappers entered through the doors on the balcony off the kitchen, every one of the women was already unconscious.” I stood and began pacing. “The two kidnappers are most likely men based on their build. There’s no way to run facial recognition because they were wearing gas masks.”

“Which means,” Patrick added, “they knew about the agent.”

Sparrow leaned against the wall near the windows that opened to the same balcony where the kidnappers entered. He crossed his arms over his chest. While Laurel had been bundled in a sweater, long pants, and socks, with the open windows and doors, Sparrow, like the rest of us was wearing jeans and short sleeves, perceivably unaffected by the cooling air. “This was planned.”

I nodded. “But when? I haven’t been able to determine when the canister was placed.”

“Fuck,” Mason said. “It could have been there for a while, waiting for the right time.”

I looked at Mason. “How? How was someone not detected placing it?”

“The fucking house sits empty more than it’s occupied.” He took a deep breath and turned my way. “But you’re right. We have no way of knowing when. We need to go back and search for missing time. It wouldn’t have taken long to place.”

“No,” Sparrow said as he stepped away from the wall. “One day I’ll give a fuck about when the canister was planted. Today isn’t that day. We’re done looking back. We need to proceed with looking forward. The ducts have been searched thoroughly. We know there aren’t more. Right now, we need to determine who masterminded this in advance, who placed the canister, who activated it, and why. We also, and more importantly, need to get Araneae and Lorna home.” His muscles pulled tight, veins and tendons popping to life in his neck. “Give me a goddamned ransom. I’ll pay, and then I’ll make fucking sure the kidnappers suffer for touching my family.”

The program I’d started was responding. “What kind of dwellings are we looking for?” I asked as I began to set the perimeters on the search.

Sparrow and Mason began spewing specifics—abandoned storefronts, warehouses, barns...

“Tomorrow,” Mason said, “we can take my plane up. It only holds one other passenger. We can do a visual of this property and the neighboring properties.”

“Something is bothering me,” Patrick said as he stared at the maps.

“Just one thing?” I asked.

He turned to me. “Can you, with confidence, say the canister that was found was not placed today prior to the kidnapping?”

“One hundred percent,” I replied.

“In the last week?”

“I need to do some more searches, but yes. The only missing time since we arrived on this ranch with the ladies was the missing time earlier today.”

Patrick looked at Mason. “They weren’t after Araneae and Lorna. You were the target.”

Mason’s eyes closed and opened before he slowly nodded.

“But,” Patrick interjected, “think about it. They took two women. They had to know you weren’t one of them.”

My heart began to beat faster. “Unless you weren’t the target,” I said to Mason as I stood. “Not you, but...”

“Laurel,” we all said together.

Lorna

My grasp of the metal frame tightened, and I willed my pulse to calm as heavy footsteps entered the cell. My mind told me to tip my chin upward and try to see but to see what? I’d already seen the jeans and boots, and the slacks and shoes. My breath caught in my chest as the stale stench returned, the footsteps stilled, and the bunk bed shook.

Before I could speak, the sound of moaning filled the cell.

“Araneae?”

The footsteps moved toward the door, their bearer void of any explanation. It didn’t take long, a second or less, till it closed and the locking mechanism clicked. My breath came forward in a gust as I ripped the blindfold from my eyes and saw my friend lying upon the bottom bunk. “Araneae.”

She didn’t speak as I moved to her. Her eyes were closed, and her knees drawn upward. Her hands were over her midsection as her facial features contorted. Her skin glistened with perspiration.

I sat on the edge of the bunk and gently smoothed her long blonde hair away from her face. “Araneae, I’m here. It’s Lorna.”

Her head moved ever so slightly from side to side, yet she didn’t utter a word.

I began to scan from her head to her toes, taking in any exposed skin. While contorted in an unusual way, her face was clear of abuse. There were no