Game of Fear (Montgomery Justice #3)(25)

“Low blow, Deb.”

She let out a slow, deep breath and kneaded the back of her neck. She raised her gaze with a wince. “Sorry. I’m just—”

“Worried. Scared. Frustrated. I get it.” Gabe’s hands settled on her shoulders. He kneaded at the tension, the warmth of his hands easing the knots, his proximity at least making her not feel alone.

“I know how things work,” he said. “We’ll file a missing person’s report at the Colorado Springs PD, even if they don’t act on it. We can see if the cadet would sell us his car. But, unless the police do the forensic analysis, the chain of evidence will be compromised. Actually, the way the police and the kid were searching through the vehicle when we arrived, it probably wouldn’t do any good. No one wore gloves, even when touching the note.”

“Then where do we go from here?”

Gabe nodded toward the terminal. “Inside and show Ashley’s picture around. Maybe we can find out if anyone saw her in the last twenty-four hours.”

Deb fell in step with him. She studied his determined jawline. “You believe she’s still alive?”

Gabe glanced over at her. “Yes,” he lied. He had absolutely no clue. Not one of the missing prodigies whose names Patrick Montgomery starred had ever been found. Ashley fit that select victim profile like she’d written it herself.




Deb glared at the police station, the hairs on the back of her neck still standing up. She clenched her fist, her knuckles white.

“At least you didn’t end up in jail,” Gabe commented as he pulled the car out of the parking lot, his voice far too calm for her.

She glared at him. “They threatened to arrest me.”

“You called the guy every synonym for idiot in the book. I had to look up some of the insults on my smart phone.”

“Hardy har har. So, I can curse in several languages. Comes from being an Army brat.” Deb shoved her hand through her hair. “He deserved it. He didn’t take us—or Ashley’s disappearance—seriously.”

“We knew they wouldn’t.” Gabe let out a long, slow breath. “I swear, you remind me of my brother Zach. A hothead.”

“When it comes to my family, you bet I am.”

Gabe was right, damn him. Filing the missing person’s police report went about as badly as they’d expected. But it was Ashley. Deb could handle most anything the world threw her way, but when it came to her baby sister . . . it was a hundred times worse.

“Deb, we knew filing that report wouldn’t be easy. You let them get to you.”

“I fought every day in the Army for respect. I’m not backing down in front of those yahoos.”

“They were jerks, but you have to understand, ninety-nine times out of one hundred, those notes left behind are real.”

“Don’t confuse me with facts, Gabe.”

“Hopefully we’ll have better luck at the Academy.”

She shifted forward in her seat as Gabe turned into the dormitory parking lot. The building rose high against the blue winter sky. Deb had been impressed with the campus the first time she saw it. Now, it brought only sadness and regret.

“This is where Ashley lived?” Gabe asked, ducking down to scan the building.

Deb nodded.

He drove past the dorm and turned toward the main campus.

“Why aren’t you stopping?” Deb asked.

“We’re meeting with Ashley’s advisor first,” he said. “I made a couple of calls while you were in the ladies’ room after arguing with those cops. Caught a break with this guy. My brother knows him.”

Gabe pulled into a visitor space and they headed up the steps to an administration building. Deb could already feel her heart pounding with the desperation of a mission gone wrong. She shoved the ingrained reaction aside. Ashley would be okay. She had to be.

He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. “Room 190A.”

They walked down the corridor against the sea of spit-and-polished Air Force cadets. Their light blue shirts and dark blue pants were perfectly ironed and creased. Their shoes were polished like mirrors. The boys had crew cuts, the girls all wore their hair short or pulled back.

“Ashley really fit in here?” Gabe asked quietly. “From the photos you showed me, uptight and regimented doesn’t seem like her style. Why did she choose this place?”

“Don’t kid yourself. These guys can get pretty wild, but the real reason she chose the Air Force was because she’s addicted to flying. Got her pilot’s license at fifteen,” Deb said. “Ashley knew the Academy wanted her for her brain, but she wants to fly an F-22 Raptor, though she’d settle for any fighter. She’s obsessed with the idea. Of course, it didn’t hurt that choosing Air Force over Army drove my dad crazy.”

“Does she get that wild streak from her sister?”

“No. From my dad. He was a fighter pilot in the Gulf Wars. I like the versatility of helicopters, but those two live for speed.”

“Here we are.” Gabe rapped on the door labeled Major Rappaport.

“Enter,” a voice commanded.

Gabe swung the door open, standing aside for Deb.

A man who looked to be in his early thirties rose from the utilitarian desk and walked around the table, holding out his left hand, since his right was missing. “Ms. Lansing.”