Veronica is standing, now, too.
Brielle doesn’t answer, which only feeds the panic. Tristan tries Cassandra’s phone next.
“McNary says he’s got to Brielle,” he chokes out.
Please, no.
Veronica gasps. “What? How?”
Cassandra’s phone rings out, too, and Tristan almost crushes his own cell in frustration. Brielle would answer hers if she could. She promised.
Which means there’s a reason she can’t.
He goes from standing to running in a blink, shooting for the stairs.
“Tristan!” Jareth calls. “Where are you going?”
“You guys see if you can track her down,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m going looking for her.”
“But how are you going to—”
Tristan doesn’t hear the rest of the question, but it doesn’t matter. Not only does he not have time, but he also doesn’t know how to answer.
He has no idea how he’s going to find Brielle.
But he will.
He’s not willing to consider a scenario where he doesn’t.
JACK
16:26
“Did you get it,” Jack asks tensely.
Clara types rapidly on the computer resting on her lap. She frowns, her eyes narrowing as she stares at the screen. Jack pulls the car over, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.
It would be nice to have a destination for a change, rather than doing aimless laps of the city in the hope they stumble on a clue.
He’s hoping the call they just tapped would give them one of those.
Clara looks at him in triumph. “Got him.”
Jack thumps the wheel. “Yes!” He puts the car into gear. “Where?”
Clara types again, her gaze intent on the laptop. “City outskirts. Head west. Looks like an abandoned building.”
Jack has to stop himself from jamming his foot on the gas. By tapping Tristan’s phone they were able to listen to McNary’s call.
And they spoke long enough for them to triangulate McNary’s location.
The sooner they get that murderer off the streets, the better. Then Jack can focus on the rest of what was said in that phone conversation…
Clara turns to him, and he half expects she’ll suggest they call this in, ask for some backup. Jack has no intention of doing that, but he scrabbles to think of how he’s going to explain that.
“What do you think they meant by Zodiac Heirs?” she asks, her head angled as she watches him closely.
Dammit. She noticed that, too. Jack shrugs like that wasn’t the biggest break he’s had since he started investigating Tristan. “No idea. They must be into astrology or something.”
“Come on, Jack. I asked to be partnered with you because I heard you were a great investigator. Catching the Triple Murderer only confirmed that.”
Focusing on taking a corner, Jack mulls over that. Clara knows there’s more to the Zodiacs info than he’s trying to make out.
Clara asked to be his partner because she thinks he’s a good agent…
He glances at her. “I’m not sure what it means. And I’m not taking any guesses, yet.”
Clara leans a little toward him. “We need to find out, Jack,” she breathes.
Suddenly conscious of their close confines, Jack snaps his head back to the road. “That’s the plan,” he mutters.
“Down there,” Clara points to an empty street on their right.
Jack’s gaze flickers over the empty parking lots and decrepit buildings. This isolated corner of New York looks like just the place someone like McNary would choose to hide out in.
“That’s it.” Clara indicates toward what looks like a half-built apartment building.
“Looks like someone realized what a bad investment decision they’d made. No one was going to want to live here,” Jack observes. He parks the car across the street and they climb out.
Taking his gun out of his holster, he notes that Clara does the same. Neither of them are taking any chances.
Ears pricked and eyes darting, Jack makes his way toward the building, Clara right behind him. The windows are boarded up so there’s no way of telling whether there’s someone inside.
Coming around the front, Jack sees there’s a doorway with no door. He waits, listening hard.
Nothing.
With a flicker of his finger, he indicates he’s going in. Clara nods, her face tight.
Stepping through the doorway, Jack quickly sweeps his gun left then right. He finds himself in a gutted-out space, little more than a pile of burned wood in the back corner.
Clara joins him, her gun doing her own arc around the room.
“Looks empty,” Jack mutters quietly.
But he learned long ago that looks can be deceiving.
A quick glance down and he sees footprints in the dust. Several of them.
“Others have been here,” he tells Clara.
Possibly McNary.
Keeping his hand and gun steady as his heart rate picks up, Jack walks slowly