My Cruel Salvation (Fallen Saint # 3) - J. Kenner Page 0,93
hurry.”
I let silence linger on the line, too terrified to talk, but I’m reassured by Lamar’s presence on the other side of the phone line. I know I’m not overreacting— there’s absolutely no reason in the world for Brandy to send me the text that she did—but I’m desperately hoping that it’s just a horrible, terrifying mix-up.
What’s going on? Don’t worry? We’re on our way back to you.
On the one hand, Brandy’s text clearly suggested an emergency, but it sounded like I was the one who had called out for help. Except I hadn’t. So what the hell was Brandy talking about?
All I know for sure is that they were in Shelby, that I have the ability to track Shelby, and that Shelby is now parked less than a block away. I’m driving like a banshee, putting Brandy’s little Ford to the test as I race the final distance into the lot, then screech to a halt beside Shelby.
“Ellie?” Lamar’s voice sounds thin over the speaker.
I hear the catch in my voice as I say, “They’re gone.”
I throw the door open and launch myself toward Shelby. I don’t touch anything, but I peer into the cab, as if maybe they’re hiding on the floorboards. But they’re just gone. No sign, no clue.
“Don’t touch anything.” Lamar’s voice drifts from the open door of the Ford, and I return to grab my phone, then hold onto it as if it can keep me sane.
“Lamar…” I hear the fear and hate myself for it. I want to be stronger, but I’m not, and it is taking all of my strength not to collapse onto the asphalt.
“Don’t touch anything,” Lamar says again.
“I know. I didn’t. They need to dust for prints.”
“I’m one block over, and I’ve got a team responding. Not just prints. The car could be rigged.”
“Oh, God…”
“I’m sorry to be so blunt, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I nod my head. I understand; I do. And I try to dig deep into my training, to my heritage, but none of it’s coming through. Something has happened to the man I love and my best friend in the world, and I am having one hell of a time thinking straight.
As he promised, Lamar is right on my heels. He slams his car to a stop beside me then lurches out of the car. “Help is on its way,” he says, though the sirens in the distance already tell me as much. “Now let’s go over everything again.”
I run him through the whole thing once more—how I got the text, the text not making any sense, and me realizing that something had to be wrong. “And now here’s the car and no Devlin or Brandy. So obviously I’m right.”
Beside me, Lamar nods his head. “Yeah, I think you are.”
I press my fist hard against my lips, as if that strange and uncomfortable pressure will keep the tears at bay. It doesn’t work, and the next thing I know I’m in Lamar’s arms as he tries to console me.
But I’m not consoled. I won’t be—I can’t be—until I find Devlin and Brandy. But I do manage to get the tears under control, and I pull back from Lamar, my cheeks wet and my heart racing. I’m helpless, and I hate it.
As he’s been holding me, other cops have arrived, and the team is scouring the area for vagrants who may be living inside the abandoned buildings and might have seen something. Apparently the owner lost his financing and the space has become a haven for the homeless. “There are security cameras,” Lamar tells me. “Benton’s talking with the bank. Hopefully they kept the feed on after the foreclosure.”
I nod, reassured by the activity, but it isn’t enough. It isn’t nearly enough.
I turn again to Lamar, wanting to beg for a next step, but he’s already looking at me, his forehead creased. “What?” I demand.
“I already told Devlin this, so you might know. But Walt fessed up to being paid a hundred large to file the lawsuit.”
“So he’s in on this?” I hear my voice rise with incredulity. Walt’s an ass, but none of us really saw him for the bombing. He’s a whiner, not a fighter. And I can’t imagine him pulling off a kidnapping.
Lamar shakes his head. “I don’t think so. He says he swears it was anonymous. Someone came to him and told him that he should file the suit, and if he did that the guy’s boss would pay him.