Page 32 of Talk to Me
“If she was fine, she would have answered her phone. If something hadn’t happened to her, none of us would be here.” Solid logic.
“I could argue that either one of you could be here because you are the problem.” Then before either of them could suggest it, I added, “So could I for that matter.”
The longer we wasted time on this…
“Look, we all want to find her. That gives us a common goal.” Locke again. The man was almost too smooth. “We pool our resources, find Patch, make sure she’s secure, then go our separate ways. No harm, no foul.”
“If we don’t find her or she isn’t secure?” Remington’s voice had taken a distinctly cold, unfriendly note.
“Then we secure her and eliminate the threats,” I said. “By whatever means necessary.” I held Remington’s gaze and read the determination to exact more than a pound of flesh if necessary. With a nod, since we were on the same page, I transferred my attention to Locke. “Can you handle that?”
Locke pursed his lips. “I have no problems dropping any bodies in that quest.”
Silence held sway for a long moment. Remington lowered his weapon first. He didn’t holster it, but it wasn’t pointed at me any longer.
Acceptable. I lowered my own.
Funnily enough, Locke was the last one to lower his weapon. Unlike us, he didn’t keep it in his hand. “You searched the place already?” Definitely aimed at Remington since I just got here.
“Not thoroughly,” the man countered. “You interrupted.”
No apology was forthcoming, not that I could blame him. Instead, I studied the room around us. It seemed cozy, yet it lacked any distinguishing features or decorations. How did she make it warm without giving herself away?
The sharpness of her intelligence had always been a turn-on.
“Then we search it again,” Locke said. “This is my area of expertise after all.”
“Are you an expert in searching places?” I shot him a look that he shrugged off.
“Thief,” he answered. “I’m very good at getting in and out of places people don’t want others in.”
“So you’re good at locating these hidden places?” Remington sounded skeptical.
I didn’t blame the guy, it smelled like horseshit. I moved through the kitchen then headed into the living room. Remington kept pace with me, neither of us giving the other our back.
Locke didn’t follow, and I pivoted to find him standing in the hallway just outside of the kitchen and dining room that led to a half bath at one end and to the garage at the other.
Head tilted, he seemed to be studying the wall. I kept him in my periphery as I scanned the room and its contents. There was a hiss of sound, like a door decompressing and I was a half-step behind Remington.
Locke stared at the door he’d just opened in the stairs to reveal another set of stairs going down.
“I’ll be damned,” Remington muttered.
“You’re welcome,” Locke said without a trace of irony. Nor did he wait for us as he descended the steps. Remington and I exchanged looks. Neither of us wanted the other at our backs.
But Locke was already down there and I wanted to know if she was here. So I took the risk, holstering my gun and descending the steps. Remington followed behind me.
There was another door open at the bottom of the stairs and there was a distinct lack of hum that would indicate running equipment. When I arrived, I discovered why. Locke had stopped just inside the door, and hadn’t taken another step.
The room was a wreck. Easily a half-dozen monitors positioned at different angles. Two of them were broken. The desk was disheveled, a headset hung off the end, dangling. Blood decorated the keyboard. The actual machines were smashed, from the two boxes beneath the desk to the cabinet that had probably housed hard drives on the far side.
The chair was overturned. Papers scattered. A coffee cup lay on its side, an old brown stain pooled around it.
Was she taken in here? Or had they brought her down here for interrogation?
How the fuck had they gotten in here? I pivoted to study the room located down here. The stairs above us had closed. The insulation was remarkable. If she’d been all the way in and the door sealed—she’d have been secure.
A camera in the corner caught my eye. Another on the steps.