She didn’t answer.
He strained to see through the fog.
“Cheyenne?”
Birmingham looked concerned, as well. “She was right there,just behind us, seconds ago.” He drew out his flashlight, a powerful one, andplayed it over the lane behind them.
There was no sign of Cheyenne.
Andre shouted her name and ran back in the direction fromwhich they had come.
Nothing. No one.
Just fog.
He pulled out his phone, calling hers.
It rang and rang and rang.
“Andre—sorry, Special Agent Rousseau, don’t panic, the ladylikely just saw something and stepped off,” Birmingham said.
But Andre didn’t believe that. “We were right damned infront of her!”
As in the days of old, the policeman carried a whistle. Heblew on it, drawing out his phone as he did.
“Cheyenne!” Andre cried again, now running. When he realizedhe was running in circles, he stopped to think more logically. He was certainshe hadn’t hopped a wall. They would have heard that.
In seconds, a score of men came running toward them.
Birmingham announced that they were changing up the search.Cheyenne Donegal had just disappeared—from right behind them. She had to beclose. She had to be.
And they weren’t to stop looking until they found her.
Andre fought hard to keep himself from growing frantic. Heneeded to stay calm and focused.
But he despised himself for being an idiot, for not keepingher immediately at his side while they walked, while they worked…
“I need to get ahold of our phone company, quickly. I needto know who called her last,” Andre said. “They can do it faster in the States,I’m…”
He shook his head and pulled out his cell, calling Angela,telling her briefly and tersely what was going on, and leaving her to find thelast call on Cheyenne’s phone.
Then he started running again.
“Where are you going?” Birmingham demanded, following behindhim.
“Eric and Emily’s,” he said. “The camera…it might show thisfar down the lane, and they might have seen what happened. Something,anything.”
Birmingham kept in step with him. They passed Michael Adair,still sitting vigil, and Birmingham shouted orders to him, making sure everyman and woman on the job knew that Cheyenne had just disappeared.
They were all out here tonight.
And so was a killer.
Andre pounded on the door at the house and immediatelypushed past Emily when she opened it, Birmingham following behind him.
“Andre! What—?"
“Cheyenne,” he said, making his way to the dining room.
Eric had fallen asleep in the parlor just beyond, but heheard Andre, and—though a little dazed—rose with a smile that quickly faded.
“The footage. Go back, Eric. Go back and bring up thecameras that are recording video on the lane!”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Eric started typing.
“Cheyenne? Cheyenne—what?” Emily demanded. And then, “Oh, myGod,” she whispered.
Because Eric had brought up the screens of the lane.
And, through the fog, they could see two dark figures.
Andre and Birmingham, walking together.
And behind them…
A tall figure wearing a cloak—one that almost blended inwith the night—coming up quickly and silently, right behind Cheyenne.
The figure struck her. Swept her up.
Ran back with her in his arms…
Out of the camera’s view.
“Oh, my God!” Emily wept.
Andre’s phone rang. It was Angela.
“She spoke with Benjamin Turner,” Angela said.
“Thanks.”
He said no more and hung up, looking at Birmingham as herang through to Turner.
“Did you find something?” Turner demanded. “I was tellingCheyenne about what I learned looking back and—”
“What did you tell her? What did you tell her?” Andredemanded. He saw his fingers where he gripped the phone. They were white with tension.
He couldn’t panic. He had to stay sane, think logically.
“I interviewed an architect. He said they had to makechanges to the plans. Didn’t know how or when, but someone dug out tombs thataren’t in the cemetery. They’re now on what I assume is private land by the newapartments. According to him, no one reported the remains to the properauthorities because it would have delayed the construction.”
Birmingham waited.
Andre tensed.
What if Turner’s information was interesting but had nothingto do with Cheyenne’s abduction?
Andre closed his eyes for a second and breathed deeply.
Cheyenne was a trained agent.
But she’d been slammed in the head, knocked out.
This murderer didn’t kill quickly, though. He bled hisvictims out.
There was time. And Andre had to use it.
“Thanks,” he said briefly to Turner, hanging up even asTurner kept speaking, asking if they had managed to find anything.
“Up a slope, by the new apartments,” he said. “Turner foundan interview with a guy who suggested that, at some point in time, someone dugout their own catacombs.”
Birmingham nodded. He had his phone out and was calling histeams, telling them where to concentrate their searches.
Birmingham started for the door with Andre behind him butstopped abruptly. “What if…what if Benjamin Turner is the killer? What if hecalled Cheyenne to distract her, to get her to hang back?”
“Can you get a man there quickly?”
“Within minutes.”
“Let’s head on toward the new apartments. Get someone to seeif Turner is at his place. If he took her, he’d have to have superpowers tostash her and be back sipping tea at home already.”
“I’ll get someone to his flat immediately. Of course, hecould have her at his place, just holding on until we get out of the way. Wehave laws here, and we can’t just go bursting in without—”
“You can’t. But I can. I’m an unofficial agent here. AnAmerican,” Andre said.
“Let’s go see what else he has.”
“Get your men up by the new apartments. Every girder, everypatch of dirt, in the basement, in the gardens…everywhere.” Andre said.
“I have a car ahead—with a siren.”
Andre was grateful that Birmingham had his car—and hissiren.
They moved through Highgate like lightning.
He thought about the evening. He tried to replay every word,remembered that something had been said during the night that had botheredCheyenne. She’d said as much.
