Cassidy panicked. Quinn was on a boat. She was sure of it.
“Okay, well, thanks.”
“Have him try Tony Ellison,” she blurted.
Bruce gave her a questioning glance but repeated the name into the phone.
Cassidy held her breath.
The line buzzed again. Bruce shook his head, his eyes grim. He signed off.
“Wait!” Cassidy cried. “Ask him to try one more name.”
Bruce paused, waiting.
Cassidy swallowed. “Ask him to try Ethan Kincaid.”
Bruce’s eyes filled with confusion. He made the request, his voice tentative, almost as if he didn’t want the answer.
Perry’s voice spoke, and Bruce’s eyes widened. “Confirmed?” he asked, then listened. “Okay,” he said. “Thanks, Perry.”
He turned to Cassidy. “He’s texting me the slip number.”
“Let’s go,” Cassidy said, hurrying toward the door.
“Whoa,” Bruce said. “Are you going to tell me why the owner of this boat has your last name?”
“Bruce, we have to go!” she said, wheeling on him.
“No, our part is done. Now we let the pros handle this.” He pulled his phone from his pocket.
“No, Bruce! We know where he is!” Cassidy cried. “We need to get him, now, before they realize something’s wrong!”
Bruce tapped a button on his phone and lifted it to his ear. Cassidy turned and ran for the door but she only made it halfway.
“Stop!” Bruce said, hugging her tight. “Think it through, Cassidy. What are you going to do when you get there? Talk your way onto the boat? Expect them to just turn Quinn over?”
“I don’t know!” she cried, struggling against him. “I’ll figure something out.”
“You have no weapon, no hostage negotiation training. How are you going to free him and keep yourself safe? These are trained killers, Cassidy.”
“I’ll take his gun,” Cassidy said, eyeing the lifeless form of Officer Nash only five feet away, the blood pooling on the hardwood floor.
“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that,” Bruce said. “But you can’t just storm onto the boat. They’ll kill you, and they’ll kill Quinn.”
“I can’t just sit here and wait while he’s there suffering,” Cassidy said as her limbs ran out of fight. “I have to go there.”
They were both breathing hard from their struggle. “I can get the Hostage Rescue Team in place in less than sixty minutes.”
“We don’t have that long and you know it,” Cassidy said. Bruce held her fast, but she could feel his grip loosening. “If you keep me from him, Bruce, I’ll never be the same,” she said, her voice breaking.
Slowly, Bruce released her. “Why don’t you trust me, Cassidy? Why don’t you trust us to take care of him?”
She turned to face him, the tears blurring her eyes. “Quinn is all I have.”
“Goddammit,” he finally said, looking away. He seemed to think for a long moment, his face tight in a grimace. “Okay,” he sighed. “We’ll go there. But we’re only going to get close enough to confirm. We are not under any circumstances getting onboard.”
But Cassidy was already running for the door.
They reached Bruce’s SUV and Bruce paused at the back to reload his weapon, then they were underway, with Bruce driving at speeds that under any normal circumstances would terrify her, running yellow lights, taking sharp turns, and barking orders into the phone all the while.
The text came through with the boat’s location and its name, which made her feel sick.
In less than ten minutes they arrived at the marina’s parking area. “I suppose a request you stay in the car would fall on deaf ears,” Bruce said.
Cassidy pushed open her door to the smell of creosote and salt. She took off running, with Bruce hurrying to catch up. “You will follow my lead, okay?” he said in a harsh whisper. “Or I’ll take you right back to the car and cuff you to the bumper.”
She eyed him warily.
“I mean it, Cass. I can’t be worrying that you’re going to do something stupid.”
“He’s my brother,” she said. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get him back.”
“I get that, but we’re just here to do recon, do you understand?”
Cassidy huffed a frustrated sigh.
They reached the imposing metal screen door. “It’s locked!” she cried when the handle refused to turn.
Bruce removed a tool from his pocket. “Shine this for me,” he said, handing over his phone.
Cassidy turned on the flashlight feature and watched Bruce try variations of the tool to pick the lock while her anxiety began to itch at the base of her neck like a rash.
“Wouldn’t it just be faster to shoot it?” she asked as time seemed to accelerate. What if they were already too late?
“Too risky.” The lock clicked.
Bruce quickly packed away his tool, then pulled her through the door, shutting it carefully behind her. They walked down the gangplank, the boards creaking beneath their feet. At the base, Bruce turned left, leading her past silent boats. A soft breeze ruffled the hairs at the edge of her temples. The still water shone black in the soft glow from the deck lights. At the junction with Dock B, he paused long enough that she could hear the gentle lapping of water against the hulls.
“It’s at the end, left side,” he said in a soft whisper. “We’ll confirm, then wait.” He gave her a stern gaze.
She nodded, though doubting if she could keep such a promise.
Slowly, they walked down the dock, past the sculpted bows of several large vessels, their white fiberglass hulls shining in the dock’s dim lights. Cassidy watched Bruce scan the area ahead of them. The dock creaked, making her cringe. From another section of the marina, she could hear faint music, the low hum of a generator, or maybe an air-conditioning unit.
They stepped lightly past an empty slip and two smaller boats. An engine rumbled to life, and Bruce glanced at her. Cold fear dumped into her stomach. The sound was coming from the end of the dock.
When she hurried forward, Bruce drew his gun and matched her stride. Side by side they continued. The engine noise rumbled louder. Cassidy broke into a sprint as she
