Gone (Deadly Secrets #2)(91)

Hunt was breathless when he reached Alec. “Okay, now we’re really breaking and entering.”

Alec knelt for the closest folder and opened it. Names and addresses, birthdates, and work histories. He flipped pages, unsure what he was seeing. He came across what looked like a contract, and behind it, a receipt of sale.

“What is that?” Hunt asked.

“I don’t know.” Alec kept flipping pages. The second-to-last page looked like a return receipt, but he couldn’t tell for what. His fingers stilled on the last page. No name was listed, just a date. And below that a stamp that read “Deceased.”

“Holy shit,” Hunt muttered. “Is that what I think it is?”

“I—I don’t know.” Sickness churned in Alec’s stomach as he knelt and lifted another folder. Flipping to the back he found another date, followed by a name and address.

“It’s in here,” a woman’s voice echoed from beyond a door slightly ajar across the room. Alec and Hunt both looked up. The door pushed open just as Hunt raised his gun. “We have to get this cleaned up before someo—”

The elderly woman with salt-and-pepper hair wild around her bruised face and a wrinkled suit jolted when she spotted them. “Oh my goodness.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Who are you? How did you get in here? Ms. Hennessy, call the police. We’ve been burgled.”

The blonde just behind the older woman stepped back with wide eyes. Hunt shifted the gun her way and muttered, “Uh-uh. Stay right here.”

The blonde froze.

Fear filled the older woman’s slate-gray eyes, but the emotion was quickly masked by a wave of rage that made her whole face red. Almost as red as the blood trickling down her temple. “You can’t just waltz into my home. Do you have any idea who I am? The police are already on their way.”

Alec’s blood pumped hot as he stepped over the paperbacks and lifted the folder in his hand. “Good. I’m sure they’ll be more than interested in this, Mrs. Kasdan. Where is my daughter?”

Every inch of color drained from Miriam Kasdan’s face as she glanced from the file in his hand up to his eyes. “Y-your daughter?”

“And my wife. I know she was here this morning.”

Kasdan glanced toward the gun Hunt held, pointed right at her. “I—I don’t know what you’re—”

The phone in Alec’s pocket buzzed. He whipped it out, a burst of relief rushing through him when he saw Raegan’s name on the screen. “Raegs, where are you?”

“Alec, listen to me.” Her voice was distant, as if she were talking into a speaker. “It’s Miriam Kasdan. The charity socialite. She’s the one behind the whole thing. She took those kids and—”

“I know. I’m standing in her office right now. Raegan, where are you?”

“I’m going to get Emma before they move her. She’s in Sherwood, Alec. 49273 Ridgeview Lan—” Her voice cut off with a muffled scream.

“Raegan?” Fear clamped hard around Alec’s throat. “Raegan?” he asked again when she didn’t answer. “Raegan!”

The line went dead.

“What happened?” Hunt asked, gun still trained on the two women.

Wide-eyed, Alec looked up at his friend, remembering the two thugs they’d spotted jumping into that blue van and tearing off down the drive.

“I have to go.” Urgency spurred him back toward the broken window. “I have to get to Raegan before it’s too late.”

“Go.” Hunt pulled a cell from his pocket and dialed with one hand. “I’ve got this.” He lifted the phone to his ear. “Yeah, I need to speak with Special Agent Jack Bickam immediately.”





CHAPTER TWENTY


Raegan swerved on the two-lane road that wound up through the hills above Sherwood. The blue van had come out of nowhere and slammed into her from behind, the force of the hit shooting her forward and sending the cell phone in her hand flying across the car.

She gasped, gripped the wheel tighter, and pressed on the gas to take the next turn as her adrenaline surged. The neighborhoods on her left disappeared. Now all she could see were thick trees on both sides of the road. One glance in the rearview told her the older van couldn’t keep up with her Audi. It had dropped back, but she knew she hadn’t lost whoever was in it. If she didn’t get to Emma first, they would. And if that happened, she knew she’d never find her daughter.

Flooring it, she swerved around corners, holding on tightly so she didn’t lose control. Her heart pounded hard. Her palms grew damp against the steering wheel. The car banked to the left. Ahead she spotted a paved drive, blocked by a wrought-iron gate. The stone address marker read “49273.”

She slammed on the brakes, swerving off the road onto the gravel shoulder. Shoving the car into park, she threw the door open and jumped out. Her muscles contracted as she raced toward the arced metal gate, flanked on both sides by two towering stone columns topped with decorative lights.

There was no time to buzz the intercom. Heart in her throat, she grasped the top of the gate at its lowest point, stepped up on the bottom rung, and pulled herself up. Metal cut into her hands. Her knee cracked against the top of the gate as she threw herself over. Her body sailed through the air as she dropped down the other side and landed hard against the concrete.