kissed his grandmother’s cheek, and met his father’s gaze.
His grandfather patted her hand.
“I’m not letting you touch me, old man. Keep your hands to yourself.”
Thayne motioned to the nurse who hovered nearby. “Can you help them, Jan?”
“Of course.”
Thayne and his father crossed the hall and stepped into a vacant room. “It could be in her mind somewhere,” Thayne said. “Any idea what the triangle means? Or red?”
“No idea. We’ve never used a triangle brand on the ranch. It’s used in military maps, but I don’t know why she’d be aware of that. Maybe she’s back teaching trig in her head?”
“Red could be the blood.” Thayne stroked the stubble on his chin. “Maybe it’ll come to her. She still recalls some short-term details.”
“We can’t count on her memory, and today’s not a good day. The Alzheimer’s has her living more and more in the past. And with her getting knocked out, who knows if she’ll remember.” His father rubbed his temple. “We have no leads.”
Thayne studied his dad’s haggard face. Since his illness, he appeared ten years older than his fifty-six years, but Thayne couldn’t sugarcoat the truth. “I may not be a cop, but I don’t buy DCI’s knee-jerk theory of druggies on a spree. I think they’re justifying not showing up, but it doesn’t track. If all these guys wanted were drugs, they should have hurt or killed Cheyenne, not abducted her.”
“You’ve got cop instincts.” His father closed his shadowed eyes. “This reminds me a lot of the Gina Wallace case, son. And we never found her. I can’t let that happen to Cheyenne. I won’t.”
Thayne knew what he had to do. He knew someone who could help. Maybe the only person who could. As much as he hated that he couldn’t find his sister, he’d also learned early on in the SEALs to take advantage of each team member’s strengths. He slipped his phone from his pocket. “I have an idea.”
“Who are you calling?”
“Someone who sees leads in a crime scene no one else does.” Thayne said. “Riley Lambert.”
“Special Agent Lambert. Yes. She could help.” His father stroked his jaw. “You may not like hearing this, but after I found out you were calling her every week, I contacted a buddy at the FBI. I wanted his take on her.”
“You did what? I’m pushing thirty, not thirteen.”
His father just shrugged without a modicum of apology. “A man needs to keep informed. Did you know she graduated high school at fifteen and earned a law degree by the time she turned twenty? She’s on the fast track. He said she’s scary driven, takes to a case like a rottweiler to a bone. And she won’t give up. If you can get her to come, we could use her help.”
Thayne’s thumb paused over the screen. He hadn’t known, and that didn’t sit well, but it didn’t matter. Because one thing he did know about Riley, she gave everything she had to her job, to her mission. They had the rottweiler mentality in common. Hold on with all your might and never let go.
The rest . . . He’d ignore the feeling of unease settling at the base of his neck. He tapped the very familiar number into his phone. After all those conversations, all those lonely nights, he’d dreamed of seeing Riley face-to-face most every day for the last year. He’d just never thought it would be like this.
Riley couldn’t remember falling asleep. She chanced opening one eye.
The morning light seeping through the slats of the window’s shutters burned with the heat of a hot poker. She squeezed her eyes shut and shifted.
Her neck protested. She’d passed out on the couch.
With a groan, she moved her head. Something poked at her cheek. She lifted her right arm to brush away several small cardboard puzzle pieces stuck to her skin and winced. The bullet graze.
She stilled, letting the pain ease, before blinking several times so the room would come into focus. The coffee table was littered with a
His grandfather patted her hand.
“I’m not letting you touch me, old man. Keep your hands to yourself.”
Thayne motioned to the nurse who hovered nearby. “Can you help them, Jan?”
“Of course.”
Thayne and his father crossed the hall and stepped into a vacant room. “It could be in her mind somewhere,” Thayne said. “Any idea what the triangle means? Or red?”
“No idea. We’ve never used a triangle brand on the ranch. It’s used in military maps, but I don’t know why she’d be aware of that. Maybe she’s back teaching trig in her head?”
“Red could be the blood.” Thayne stroked the stubble on his chin. “Maybe it’ll come to her. She still recalls some short-term details.”
“We can’t count on her memory, and today’s not a good day. The Alzheimer’s has her living more and more in the past. And with her getting knocked out, who knows if she’ll remember.” His father rubbed his temple. “We have no leads.”
Thayne studied his dad’s haggard face. Since his illness, he appeared ten years older than his fifty-six years, but Thayne couldn’t sugarcoat the truth. “I may not be a cop, but I don’t buy DCI’s knee-jerk theory of druggies on a spree. I think they’re justifying not showing up, but it doesn’t track. If all these guys wanted were drugs, they should have hurt or killed Cheyenne, not abducted her.”
“You’ve got cop instincts.” His father closed his shadowed eyes. “This reminds me a lot of the Gina Wallace case, son. And we never found her. I can’t let that happen to Cheyenne. I won’t.”
Thayne knew what he had to do. He knew someone who could help. Maybe the only person who could. As much as he hated that he couldn’t find his sister, he’d also learned early on in the SEALs to take advantage of each team member’s strengths. He slipped his phone from his pocket. “I have an idea.”
“Who are you calling?”
“Someone who sees leads in a crime scene no one else does.” Thayne said. “Riley Lambert.”
“Special Agent Lambert. Yes. She could help.” His father stroked his jaw. “You may not like hearing this, but after I found out you were calling her every week, I contacted a buddy at the FBI. I wanted his take on her.”
“You did what? I’m pushing thirty, not thirteen.”
His father just shrugged without a modicum of apology. “A man needs to keep informed. Did you know she graduated high school at fifteen and earned a law degree by the time she turned twenty? She’s on the fast track. He said she’s scary driven, takes to a case like a rottweiler to a bone. And she won’t give up. If you can get her to come, we could use her help.”
Thayne’s thumb paused over the screen. He hadn’t known, and that didn’t sit well, but it didn’t matter. Because one thing he did know about Riley, she gave everything she had to her job, to her mission. They had the rottweiler mentality in common. Hold on with all your might and never let go.
The rest . . . He’d ignore the feeling of unease settling at the base of his neck. He tapped the very familiar number into his phone. After all those conversations, all those lonely nights, he’d dreamed of seeing Riley face-to-face most every day for the last year. He’d just never thought it would be like this.
Riley couldn’t remember falling asleep. She chanced opening one eye.
The morning light seeping through the slats of the window’s shutters burned with the heat of a hot poker. She squeezed her eyes shut and shifted.
Her neck protested. She’d passed out on the couch.
With a groan, she moved her head. Something poked at her cheek. She lifted her right arm to brush away several small cardboard puzzle pieces stuck to her skin and winced. The bullet graze.
She stilled, letting the pain ease, before blinking several times so the room would come into focus. The coffee table was littered with a
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