“Let her go and I’ll let you live.”
Preston Ford moved backward, pulling her with him, their feet crunching on the shattered glass. Another rush of cold air whistled through the hole in the window. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, not without some form of insurance.”
Bruce stiffened. “Cooperate with me and we’ll go easy on you in court.”
Preston Ford laughed a cold, hard chuckle. “So ready to negotiate, huh? That was fast.” He paused. “I want full immunity.”
“Not a chance,” Bruce said, taking a step closer. “Take the deal. It’s the best one you’re going to get.”
Cassidy tightened her grip around the glass shard in her palm, ignoring the burning pain and hot blood dripping between her fingers. The sea air brushing past her bare legs made her shiver.
“There’s not going to be any deal, are you listening to me?” he said, his voice angry. “Dr. Kincaid is my insurance, for now.” In a sudden move, Preston Ford lurched toward the hole in the window. “Once I’m free, I’ll disappear. You’ll never find me.”
Preston Ford took the final step to the hole.
Cassidy slammed her fist down, grunting with effort as the shard sunk into soft flesh. Preston Ford cried out in surprise, and then they began to tumble backwards. Cassidy heard the gun fire. More glass exploded. Suddenly, she was free of Preston Ford’s grip and he was falling backwards through the hole in the glass.
Cassidy landed on her hands and knees but the trip seemed to take an eternity. The sound of the growling surf mixed with the whistling wind. She heard the soft thump of Preston Ford’s body landing on the ground below.
And then Bruce was pulling her into his arms.
“Oh, my God,” Cassidy said, her body shaking in violent tremors.
Bruce held her tight. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. The guard outside didn’t stand down easily.”
Cassidy clenched her eyes shut, breathing through the image of herself flying through the window. “It’s okay. You came.”
Finally, she had the courage to step back. She followed Bruce’s gaze to where Preston Ford’s body lay crumpled and still.
“Is he dead?” Cassidy whispered, her mind spinning too fast.
“We don’t have time to find out,” Bruce said. He moved to Officer Nash’s limp form in the hallway behind them and squatted to check his pulse. After a long moment, Bruce shook his head.
“Are you hurt?” Bruce asked, returning to scrutinize her.
“No,” she said.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, his eyes panicked. “Where?”
She extended her palms. “The glass.”
Bruce winced. “You’re going to need stitches.” He looked around the space then hurried to grab the throw blanket from the back of the couch. After nipping the edge with his teeth, he ripped down, creating a strip of fabric. Repeating the use of his teeth, he created two ribbons then took her palm into his hand and wrapped each strip snugly.
While he tucked in the ends of the bandages, she looked from the dead guards to the blood and bits of glass covering the floor, to the hole that opened to the black night sky.
“Quinn,” Cassidy said, her lip trembling.
Bruce held her face in his hands and stared into her eyes, his expression fierce. “We’re going to find him.”
“How?” She shivered. The room was so cold now.
“Let’s start with clues from his video.” He grabbed the TV remote and clicked it on. Quinn hadn’t moved but the guard was gone.
The sight of him there sparked a fury inside her. How dare they hurt him like that?
Bruce stepped close, his eyes inspecting every corner of the image.
“What if we don’t find him?” Cassidy cried, both wanting to look away from Quinn’s terrifying image and unable to. “Officer Nash used a radio to talk to the guard.” Cassidy glanced at Officer Nash’s crumpled form in the hallway and shuddered. “Can’t we just use his radio, tell him to let Quinn go?”
Bruce shook his head. “That would sound suspicious, don’t you think?” He went back to peering at the screen. “They likely had a plan. I’m betting this guard is waiting to hear that the notebook is secure so he can carry out his part.”
“We have to get there before he figures out what happened.”
Bruce pulled up the map program on his phone. “Tell me again where Quinn’s last signal came in.”
Cassidy zoomed in on his map. “There.”
Bruce studied it, then looked back up at the screen. “He’s in a small space.” He pointed at the bed lining the wall behind Quinn. “Where do people have single beds like that?”
“A crawl space?” she said. “A kid’s room in a house?”
Bruce glanced back at his map, zooming in further and executing a grid search. “That doesn’t look like a house, does it?”
On the screen, she watched Quinn breathe. Tell me where you are, she begged. Sometimes, she could tell what he was thinking, and he could do the same with her.
“See how the ceiling comes down like that?” Bruce said, pointing at the screen. “It’s almost curved.”
Just then, the image shifted. It was so subtle she barely caught it.
“A boat,” Cassidy said.
Bruce stared at her. “It fits.” He zoomed in further. “Here,” he said, pointing at the yacht harbor west of Fisherman’s Wharf. “That has to be it.”
Cassidy glanced up at the screen again, hoping for some kind of confirmation.
Bruce dialed a number, then put his phone to his ear.
“Who are you calling?” she asked, alarmed.
The caller answered. “Hey Perry, Bruce Keolani here. Say, can you look something up for me?”
Cassidy balled her fists, the fabric bandages pinching her skin.
Bruce gave the man on the other end of the line Preston Ford’s name. “Looking for a boat.”
Cassidy waited with him, sensing the tension in his body. She glanced up at the image again. They were so close. Hang on, Q, she told his image. We’re coming.
The voice on the other end of the line spoke, and Bruce’s shoulders dropped. “You sure?”
