Page 55 of Talk to Me

Anticipation sent a chill licking through my veins. I was ready to get in there and get her out. The day of sitting out here in the swelter while we watched had left a profound itch under my skin.

I pulled my pack on, then the crossbody bag with a wide variety of tools. I didn’t know what I would need until I needed it.

When the last drops of reddish-orange were barely a line on the horizon, McQuade tapped my arm. “Let’s go.” He moved like a phantom, but also on a straight trajectory. I’d half-expected lights to turn on in the lot.

They didn’t.

Security feature? Malfunction? Didn’t matter. It was to our benefit.

I hoped, unless they were motion sensor triggered.

Clasping McQuade’s shoulder, I stopped his forward momentum. As he dropped to a crouch, I went with him. I leaned close and mouthed the words more than vocalized them. “Possible motion sensors on the outdoor lights.”

Why else have them installed?

McQuade tapped two fingers against my hand. A short-hand version of Morse code.

Understood.

I let go of his shoulder and when he rose, I was right behind him. We took a circuitous route around the lot toward the entrance we’d marked. The whole afternoon, we’d only seen one way in and out

Not ideal, but it would have to do.

It also gave Remington one spot to mark and clear if necessary.

McQuade was good, I’d give him that. We didn’t trigger a single light. Motion sensors or not, we made it all the way to within five yards of the entrance. We were going to have no choice but to pass by one of the lights.

Only instead of continuing forward, McQuade paused and there was a pop of sound. Then another. Then a third. Glass cracked and then came down in a shower of fragments where the pieces bounced against the cracked black pavement. Bullet resistant glass on the lights?

Definitely not an ordinary facility.

He waited another minute then we were on the move again. We passed right by the pole and no lights came on. Hard to turn on when the bulbs were shattered.

All right, I could admit it. McQuade had some talent.

Not that I planned to ever tell him that.

At the door, he gripped the handle and gave it a tug. It was a standard exterior door. No special security. No visible cameras.

That gave me a bad feeling. Still, the interior room at least had something resembling air conditioning, a much heavier door with a keypad and retinal scanner.

Right.

Time to go to work.

Chapter

Eighteen

PATCH

Resting was a misnomer for lying there on the floor. Yes, I dozed. More because my exhausted and, at this point, depleted body demanded it. The cold stone had no forgiveness for the bruises I wore like a full body tattoo.

Someone came along at one point and splashed water on me. At least I hoped it was water. My sense of smell was pretty skewed. The splash had done what probably little else could have at that moment. It got me to drag myself up, inch by inch, until I made it to the cot next to the wall.

The cot was hardly softer than the floor. I just didn’t have to fall as far to land on it. Eyes closing, I dragged an arm up to shield my face and eyes from the overhead lights that they never turned off.

My first hole had been permanent darkness.