Shattered (LOST #3)(30)

“Molly,” he repeated. A wide smile split his face. “I love Molly.” Then he started . . . jerking. Not just shuddering, but convulsing.

Definitely coming off a bad trip.

Shit! Jax lunged toward him. Eddie was tremoring, his whole body twisting, and his head almost slammed into the porcelain side of the toilet. Jax grabbed him and slid him safely back. But . . .

Eddie’s eyes started rolling.

“Stay with me,” Jax demanded. Then he raised his voice and called, “Brent! Brent, dammit, get in here!” Knowing the cop, he figured the guy had stayed close, just out of sight, while Jax had his little chat with the other prisoner.

But Jax didn’t hear the rush of footsteps coming toward the cell.

And those convulsions weren’t stopping.

“Brent!” Jax bellowed. “Guard!”

But no one was coming.

Jax leaned over the guy. “Give me a name. Tell me who did this.”

“D-Don’t . . . know . . .”

“Tell me!”

Eddie’s breath was sawing out. In and out . . . desperate gulps. Then—

“S-Said we’d . . . get her . . .” His breath was wheezing. “S-Said she’d . . . pay.”

“Sarah?”

“Pay for what . . . he did . . . to us . . . me . . . him . . .”

Jax’s mind raced. “Wait! You’re saying this guy wants vengeance on Sarah, too? Because of some shit her father did?” He needed to know—specifically—why someone wanted vengeance on Sarah. He knew that the LOST agents had plenty of enemies because of the work they did. But someone coming after Sarah because of her psychotic father, that was a whole different nightmare.

“Yes . . .” Then Eddie was rolling on his side again. Retching and—

Footsteps thundered toward him. Jax looked up and saw Brent and a uniformed cop rushing toward the cell. About damn time.

“What in the hell did you do?” Brent demanded.

Jax put his hands up and backed away. “Nothing.” He hadn’t needed to. “Get the guy to a medic. He needs treatment, now.”

Eddie let out a pain-filled moan.

“The kid’s pumped up on some drug,” Jax added quietly. “A bad trip, and he needs help.”

Swearing, Brent unlocked the cell and hurried inside. The uniformed cop behind him just stood there, blinking.

New guy. “Go get help, asshole,” Jax ordered the guy.

The uniformed cop ran.

“Did he tell you what you needed to know?” Brent whispered.

Jax stared at Eddie. The guy was barely conscious. “I think he told me all that he knew.”

“And?” Brent pushed. They could hear voices, coming toward them—

“We’re looking for someone else with a serious grudge against Murphy Jacobs.” Someone who thought he’d hurt Sarah.

Think the fuck again.

SARAH STRODE QUICKLY down the cracked street, her gaze darting to the left and to the right. It was broad daylight, but Sarah didn’t see the light. In her mind, it was night. She was trying to picture the scene as Molly had. No, not Molly . . . but her abductor.

When Sarah hunted for victims, she found them by thinking like the perps. By putting herself into the minds of abductors, of killers. It’s always too easy for me to think like them.

So she advanced down that worn street and . . . Sarah saw the night, not the day. And when Molly had vanished, shortly after 4 A.M., there would be so many shadows out then. So many dark corners.

So many places to hide.

She and Wade had begun their search at Voodoo Night. Then they’d gone to the left, away from what Sarah knew would have been the busier clubs. From what Dean had learned at the college campus, Molly wasn’t a party type. No drinking. No drugs. So she would have wanted to get away from those crowds . . . and back home as fast as possible.

Cars weren’t allowed on a long stretch of Bourbon Street. So Sarah marched toward the intersection where the access to a vehicle would have first been available. She kept searching the area and . . .

“Anything yet, Sarah?” Wade asked softly.

She shook her head, but muttered, “You just need to get her away from the others. There are too many people here.” For an instant, she could almost see the crowd before her. So much thicker at night. Men and women jamming the streets. The alcohol would have flowed heavily. Drunken laughter hung in the air

“Okay . . .” Wade said. “I guess we’ve started ’cause you’re doing that ‘you’ thing.”

Sarah ignored him.

You have to get her away. You would only stay out in the open as long as absolutely necessary. Every moment was a risk.

Sarah’s gaze darted to the left and she saw the narrow opening of another street. One that branched away. She knew how Bourbon Street worked at night. Bourbon itself would be packed, overflowing, but if you went one street over—

Deserted. The surrounding streets were often completely empty, especially at 4 A.M.

She turned onto that smaller street. Stilled. “You get her alone.”

“Have I ever mentioned . . .” Wade asked, “that it creeps me out when you talk to yourself like this?”

Sarah ignored him. “A vehicle would be waiting. You’d need to get her out and away as fast as you could. So it would be close by.” She hurried forward. The perp would have turned his vehicle away from Bourbon Street and the crowd. He’d want a spot where his vehicle could be easily accessed, but not hemmed in by anyone. He’d want—