Deadly Promises (Tracers #2.5)(84)

“When I get out, scoot into the driver’s seat,” he said. She had her radio clipped to her belt alongside her gun, and he reached over her to switch it on. “Keep the engine running. If anyone approaches you, take off.”

“But what about you?”

“Get your Ruger ready. And don’t be afraid to use it if you feel threatened. You got that?”

“No. I’m coming with you.”

“I need you to stay in the truck,” he said. “It’s not safe for you to—” She pushed open the door and got out. “Goddamn it, Kelsey!”

She stalked right over to the stand of mesquite. She did a complete turn and gestured at the trees. “It was just here a minute ago. I saw it. How could it disappear like that?”

Gage scanned the area for threats as he joined her beside the trees. He’d never met a woman who was so bullheaded.

“I need you back in the truck while I look around.”

She turned to face him. “It was here. Right near this weird boulder. I saw a black SUV sticking out from these trees. You saw it, too.” Her eyes looked slightly wild now as she glanced around in the dimness. “Am I going crazy here? Is this the Bermuda Triangle?”

“No.” Gage wasn’t sure what it was. But he had a hunch the explanation was frighteningly simple.

Giving up on getting her back in the pickup, he pulled her closer to the big rock. “Stay here. And be quiet a second.”

She fell silent, and Gage took a full minute to absorb his surroundings. To their west was a low mesa. Less than a mile south, the river. The valley rose gently to their north until it butted up against the limestone cliffs that marked the southwest boundary of the dig site.

Gage looked west, where the sun had disappeared behind the mesa. Night was falling faster than usual because of the cloud cover, and in ten minutes it would be nearly impossible to see.

“Stay here,” he repeated, squeezing Kelsey’s shoulder to reinforce the command. Then he moved off toward the boulder.

The rain had stopped, but the air felt saturated, and he knew it was going to be one of those on-again off-again storm nights. Thunder rumbled low to the north, as if echoing his thoughts. Wind rustled through the scrub brush. An animal snarled in the distance, but he heard not a single sound that resembled a motor.

His eyes had adjusted, and he could still see somewhat, despite the coming darkness. He walked all the way around the rock, looking for any sign of Dylan or his SUV, half expecting to stumble over the guy’s bullet-riddled body. He circled the clump of trees. He even pulled out a penlight and combed the ground around them.

Fresh tire tracks, leading back toward the highway. But no Dylan.

Gage stood there, running through scenarios. Dylan could have been out here changing a tire, then left, just as they’d been coming to his rescue. But, if so, why hadn’t they passed him on his way back to camp?

The kid could have heard them coming and been afraid for some reason and driven away. Maybe he’d been injured by someone or something and had just now made it back to his vehicle.

He could be dead, and someone could have taken his SUV.

Gage made his way back to Kelsey, letting his flashlight beam trail over the ground.

“Gage,” she hissed. “Come look at this.”

And that’s when he spotted it.

Camouflage netting tossed carelessly over some bushes. Only it wasn’t careless at all. And suddenly everything fit together—the traffic, the shootings, the disappearing vehicles. He crouched down and lifted a corner of the netting, revealing a small metal grate.

“Gage, you have to—oh!”

He whirled around. “Kelsey?”

She didn’t answer.





Seven

Kelsey blinked up at the blackness. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to sit up but it felt like sandbags were piled on top of her chest.

“Kelsey, answer me, damn it! Where are you?”

She opened her mouth to talk but all that came out was a strangled cough.

“Kelsey?”

His voice was moving farther away, and she summoned every ounce of strength to turn onto her side and push herself up on an elbow. “Here,” she wheezed.

He was beside her in a heartbeat. His hands were all over her—her arms, her legs, her face.

“Are you okay? Did you break anything?”

“I hit my… solar plexus… knocked the wind out.” She was getting her breath back but she still couldn’t see, and she clung to Gage’s arms. A flashlight blinked on.

“Is anything broken?” He shined the light in her face and she squinted. “You fell about ten feet.”

“I’m fine.” She experimented, moving her legs, her arms. “My coccyx hurts a little, but—”

“Your what?”

“My tailbone. I’m fine otherwise.”

The light blinked off, and his quiet laughter surrounded her. At some point he’d put his arms around her, and she leaned into him now, absorbing his heat as she tried to catch her breath.

“Guess you’re all right if you still know your anatomy.” He eased her away. “Can you stand up, you think?”

He helped her to her feet. She felt unsteady so she held onto his arm.

She glanced around. The air felt cool and damp, but she still couldn’t see anything. “What is this hole?”