The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(11)

“These files are eyewitness statements,” she murmured in the silence of the cab.

I glanced over at her, the blue light of the handheld illuminating the sharp lines of her face. “By whom?”

“People who live out here,” she replied, shifting slightly in her seat. “Taken from their debriefing reports when they went into the city to register. One man saw him lurking around his farm—that’s the one we just left—and another two spotted him on the road… heading south, but he cut into the tree line before they could stop to ask him for help, so no help there.”

“And this last one?”

“As odd as it seems, on top of a hill. It’s apparently very popular with lovers, and the two in question decided to take a small break from their drive. It’s only a few kilometers from this road.”

“It makes sense,” I said. “He’d be staying in a small area, trying to find us.”

She sighed and shook her head. “We were idiots to focus so much on the idea he’d been captured. We could’ve been scouring the area for him. None of this would need to be happening.”

Her statement caught me by surprise. I shot her a glance and then shook my head. “That’s not necessarily true. You know that.”

She pressed her lips together in a tight frown and then looked away, leaning heavily in the seat and lapsing into silence.

The road continued to slip by, jouncing us as we rode in silence. It was gut-churningly painful, all that silence. It gave my mind the freedom to focus on the worry that had settled into every muscle of my body, making me feel like gelatin. All I could think about was Violet and Owen, hours earlier, searching on the very road we were driving on now… Them being taken… or… or worse.

“Talk to me,” I barked at Ms. Dale when it became too much.

I could feel the surprise radiating from her, even before she uttered, “What?”

“This quiet. It’s not doing me any favors.”

There was a pause. “Oh.” The silence rushed back in for a second as the old spy fidgeted slightly in her seat, readjusting herself. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“Anything. Nothing. I don’t know… How’s Henrik?”

I turned and saw her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Henrik?”

“Yeah. He’s awake now, right? Growing stronger every day?”

“He is.” Her tone was cautious, waiting. “So?” I gave a little chuckle and shook my head at her, meeting her gaze briefly before focusing again on the road. “What?” she asked insistently.

“Nothing—you’re just really bad at this.”

“What? Talking about another member of our team?”

“No, talking about your relationship, Melissa.”

I heard her tsk and smiled in the darkness. It always struck a nerve when I called her that. I still wasn’t entirely sure why. We all called each other by our first names—except her. Somehow calling her ‘Melissa’ over ‘Ms. Dale’ had never sat right. I couldn’t even think of her that way.

“Mr. Croft, my personal life is not for public dissemination,” Ms. Dale said archly. “Whom I spend my time with is really none of your concern.”

“Oh, come on. We all know that something’s going on with you two. How is hiding it—”

“Look, just because some of us choose to be more discreet in our relationships—”

“At least you admit that you’re in one.”

Another quick glance at Ms. Dale made me grin. Her mouth was a circle of surprise, her eyes wide. As soon as I looked, she closed her mouth with a cluck of her tongue and then looked out the window.

The quiet returned, and I sighed. Maybe I had pushed her a little too far. Maybe I should—

“Did you have problems with Violet? With how hard she’s been pushing herself, in spite of barely being out of her sickbed?”

I blinked. She was actually asking for my advice? That was new. And… nice. “Yeah, actually. It wasn’t easy to come to terms with.”

“How did you manage?”

“Well, first I had to resist the urge to tie her to the bed,” I said, and she chuckled.

“Yes, well, I can understand that.”

“Henrik’s pushing himself too hard?”

She looked at me, a sardonic expression on her face. “Of course he is. He keeps getting out of bed and trying to move around, despite Dr. Tierney’s advice. Oh, that’s the turn.”

I slowed, turning the wheel, and stopped when the headlights cut over the grass of the hill. Ms. Dale sat forward, and I knew her eyes were glued to the same thing mine were. We got out of the vehicle, squatting down in front to peer at the dust on the side of the road. Fresh tire prints marred the surface, the tread identical to that of the vehicle we drove in now—like all of Ashabee’s cars, designed by him, Amber had said, to be bulletproof.

“They were here,” I said.

Ms. Dale stood up, her eyes following the lines. “But they’re not anymore. I think they went that way,” she said, pointing down the road in the direction we had been traveling.

“Is there a back way to the camp I don’t know about?”

She shook her head and went to the car to retrieve the handheld. I climbed in too, not wanting to waste a moment. Ms. Dale began moving the map around on the screen, scanning. Then she made an irritated noise.