Peterson.
“Move it, Dil,” Jack called back. “Time is running out.”
Dillon tensed. Jack didn’t have to tell him that. And with only the three of them-four if Quinn Peterson made it in time-Dillon didn’t know if anyone was going to get out alive.
For eight hours Lucy had been locked in the bathroom. She drank water from the sink, but other than that had no food and felt drained. Defeated.
She slept on and off, laying down in the bathtub after an hour when no one came back for her.
What was going on? Why did they take her off the camera? She was grateful, but…
She had slept through the sunrise, because when she opened her eyes the room wasn’t dark, light was filtering in through the skylight. The dancing dust particles caught in the sunlight were surprisingly beautiful. For the first time, she felt hope…that she just might get out of this. That maybe God was watching out for her.
The door opened and she stifled a scream.
Denise was naked. Her face was swollen, her breasts cut and bleeding, and she was limping.
“Oh my God,” Lucy said without thinking about how Denise had hurt her earlier. “Are you okay?” Stupid question. “Let me help…”
Denise stared at her as if she were insane. Maybe she was, but this woman was in pain. Blood ran down her legs. Lucy took off the towel she was wearing, unmindful of her nudity as she handed it to Denise.
That was when she saw Roger in the doorway. “You’re next.”
Lucy started shaking. She stepped back, almost fell into the tub.
Denise grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the bathroom and into Roger. Lucy jumped backward.
“I need to shower.” Denise shut and locked the door.
Lucy stood there naked, Roger staring at her. She tried to cover herself.
Roger laughed.
“Come on, princess. Your fans are getting restless. Denise is used, they want fresh meat.”
“Please, don’t-”
“Save it for the camera.”
He grabbed her wrists, pulled them behind her back. A man in the corner of the room made crude gyrations with his pelvis. She turned away.
Hope disintegrated.
TWENTY-ONE
AS SOON AS THEY WERE AIRBORNE, Jack offered to fly. Dillon was surprised when Kate relinquished the controls and sat in the back. She took out her laptop and booted it up.
Dillon glanced at his brother. “Thanks, Jack.”
“Thank me when we rescue Lucy. Do you have an update on Patrick?”
“Same.”
“Shit,” Kate said from the rear of the Cessna.
Dillon got out of his seat and, hunched over, carefully made his way to the seat next to Kate. “What?”
“You don’t want to see this.”
“I have to.”
She turned her laptop to face him.
Dillon stared at the screen, his heart pounding as his fists opened and closed.
He wanted to punch something. Someone. The bastard who was raping Lucy. He would kill him, so help him God. He would kill him with his bare hands.
But the rape was almost not as bad as the poll in the corner of the screen.
Vote Now!
How should Lucy “die”?
o Stabbing
o Strangulation
o Suffocation
The time stamp was 16:54:00. They had less than seventeen hours to rescue Lucy and they were still four hours out of Washington.
“Don’t watch,” Kate said, turning the laptop back to her. Her fingers typed quickly, Lucy’s screen was minimized, and five minutes later she’d shut down her laptop. “There’s been no further communication from Trask or the undercover agent, Mick Mallory.”
“He’s letting this happen.”
“If he exposed himself, he’d be dead,” Kate reminded him.
“I don’t care.” Dillon stared out the window but didn’t see the desert or the bright morning sun. “The FBI doesn’t even know where Mallory is. They don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”
“We know he was alive last night.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better. He’s done nothing to help Lucy, and now-” He didn’t state the obvious. Now Lucy was being raped again, and with each passing minute, her death drew closer.
“This might not make you feel better, Dillon, but for what it’s worth, this is the first time in five years that I think we’re going to stop Trask.”
“Before or after he kills Lucy?”
Jack became tense as they approached the landing strip. He’d kept the controls after leaving Red Rock so Kate could get some sleep, but Dillon knew she hadn’t slept a wink. She’d stared out the window the entire flight, checking her laptop every thirty minutes. Thinking? Planning? Regretting? Dillon wished he could find a way to talk to her, get her to share what was really troubling her. But he had Lucy on his mind, and he wouldn’t be able to think until his sister was safe.
“What’s wrong?” Dillon asked Jack.
Jack looked at him, surprised. “Nothing.”
“You’re worried about something.”
For a minute, he didn’t say anything. Then, low, “It’s funny. We have barely spoken in twenty years and you can already read me. Because you’re a shrink?”
Dillon shook his head. “Because I’m your brother.”
Jack glanced at Kate, who appeared to be sleeping.
“I’m just running through the op. Adam Scott wants Kate on the mountain at two p.m. A little less than two hours from now. We’re going to land in fifteen minutes. I have transport, but it’ll be cutting it close. Still, I don’t know what his game is. Why call her out to the mountain in the first place when his headquarters is eighty miles away?”
“If we can believe the second transmission.”
“Kate does, otherwise she wouldn’t go to the island. She’d come with me to Mount Baker.”
Dillon nodded, weighed the information. “He doesn’t know about the undercover agent, or that the agent contacted Kate. He doesn’t know about Lucy signing to us that she’s on an island. So he’s leading Kate away from Lucy in order to isolate her, to make sure she didn’t bring anyone. That she’s alone. Then he’ll either kill her there,
