As soon as Dillon walked out to call Quinn Peterson, Kate went to the time stamp that Trask had told her would lead directly to his location.
Too easy. Right there was the primary satellite information. She traced the satellite and found the computer that was bouncing the webcam to it. Northeast of Seattle, Washington, near Mount Baker.
It took her a little time, and she kept looking at the door waiting for Dillon to walk back in. But after hacking into every ISP in that area, she found him.
Thirty minutes, but still it seemed too easy. He’d had to point her to the time stamp. Why hadn’t her computer picked up on it? Had she messed up her program somehow? Had Trask planted the data and had her program ignored it because it wasn’t a live feed?
She rubbed her head. This was more than she’d had before. And Trask had contacted her. Why would he send her on a wild-goose chase? The FBI, yes-he didn’t want them around. But he wanted her. She’d known it since that night five years ago, and she knew it now.
She had the exact coordinates of the webcam that sent up the signal. That’s where Lucy was. Dillon and Jack were off somewhere. She hoped they were sleeping, but doubted it. Lucy’s screen had been quiet, and Kate packed her bag. Guns. Ammo. Emergency supplies. Check. Key to the plane. Check. Her codes and another laptop and a handheld. Her backup laptop wasn’t as fast as the one she’d given to Patrick, but it was all she had left.
She hated leaving Dillon. She wanted to trust him. She wanted to trust
Kate didn’t see any other way to save her. If Trask even suspected that Kate was bringing in anyone, he’d kill Lucy. Without remorse, without hesitation.
Though she knew she could die, accepted it as part of her job, Kate didn’t
Movement on the screen. A man came into view. He looked familiar.
No. Not another rape.
She frantically typed on her computer.
I’m coming, you bastard! Don’t touch her. You touch her and I’ll send the fucking military to your location!
Nothing. He wasn’t there. Damn him!
Lucy cried out, her voice vibrating in the small room. Kate muted the sound and prayed that Dillon wasn’t on the other side of the door, that he hadn’t heard his sister’s pleas.
Something odd came over her computer terminal. At first she thought it was Trask responding. She stared at the series of numbers and letters. It looked familiar. Why?
She glanced up at the screen. That man with Lucy. He was familiar. Why? Was he a fed? She couldn’t name him, but she’d seen him before, a long time ago.
She looked back at the code on her screen and it came to her instantly. The FBI training academy. A test code in one of their textbooks.
She wrote down the numbers and letters, then translated the code from memory. It was a simple code, something all trainees used to pass messages and have fun. It helped them see the patterns behind words and actions, not just learn to decode.
What did these numbers mean? They looked like degrees. Degrees of what? Or time. Military time. Wait. Both. The code had been backward, and now she saw that the numbers were definitely time of sunrise, noon, and sunset and degrees, which would be the degrees of the sun over the hemisphere.
But she didn’t know what they meant-if Lucy was south of the equator, the numbers meant one location. If she was north, they meant something completely different.
She typed frantically in her computer, searching for an online nautical map that would give her the longitude and latitude that corresponded to these times and degrees.
If in the south, she was in the middle of the ocean. If in the north… eighty miles from the location Trask had given her. Same latitude, different longitude. Was it her mistake?
She recalculated the data Trask had sent her and the mystery data. No, she knew this stuff. And her numbers were right. That meant that Trask was either messing with her, or he was deliberately sending her eighty miles away.
Why? To keep her away from Lucy. In case she brought in the feds. Once he had determined that she was alone, he’d bring her to Lucy.
He wanted Kate to watch her die. He’d get a sick, twisted pleasure in that.
Movement on the screen distracted her. She watched as the man on-screen climbed on top of Lucy. She typed frantically into the feed she’d locked onto with Trask.
Get that man off Lucy now and I’ll be there as soon as possible.
Nothing.
Dammit you fucking bastard! Don’t do this!
Nothing.
She kicked the desk. Who was she to be giving orders? Trask held all the cards. He knew where she was, but she didn’t know exactly where he was. Which feed was right? What Trask sent, or this FBI code?
Why would he send her to the wrong place?
The man on the screen leaned over Lucy. Kissed her. She tossed her head back and forth, straining to get away from him. This man was different. He didn’t have the violent urgency to hurt Lucy that Roger had.
Did the FBI have an undercover agent there? An FBI agent who would rape to protect his cover?
She looked at the coded message again. An FBI training code from the Academy. Her gut instinct was that this man was, or had been, one of theirs.
She typed.
Don’t let anyone touch Lucy again and I’ll meet you. Fair trade. If anyone touches her, you’ll never get me. I’ll go so deep you’ll never find me.
He was there.
You’d never be able to live with yourself.
You’re right. But you won’t be the one killing me.
Nothing.
She watched the screen. The man seemed to be listening to someone off-camera, then he unzipped his jeans.
The man was leaning into Lucy, his face burrowed in her neck. But the expression on Lucy’s face changed. Almost imperceptibly. As if she were listening intently. Would Trask notice? He wasn’t a fool. Dammit, the fed was going to get himself killed. Maybe he deserved it.
Lucy didn’t want to be raped again. The humiliation of being naked and exposed to a camera was almost unbearable, but she was alive. Yet every time she thought about what had happened that morning, she screamed inside, her mind trying to make sense of it, trying to accept it. Her heart was crying at the pain, the
