Secrets of Mine (Of Mine #2)

41. Oz

41

OZ

I hold my mom’s hug for longer than I have since I was a little kid. Her knitted cardigan is soft against my chin, and I’m surrounded by the subtle floral scent of the laundry detergent she’s used for years. It takes an awful lot of willpower not to just burst into tears and let her rock me.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I say into her shoulder.

She pulls back from the hug and cups my face. “Now you listen here, Oscar. This is not your fault.”

I nod because there’s no not agreeing with Lucille Reynolds. The woman is a force of nature, but her hazel eyes are rubbed raw and there are patches of dry skin around her nose.

My dad claps my back and pulls me into a hug too. “Have you tried tracking her phone?”

“Yeah, it’s turned off.”

He grimaces then nods. “Come on, let’s sit.”

I take Freya’s hand from where she’s hovering behind me by the door, and we follow my parents into the kitchen.

The house feels too quiet without Layla here. I keep expecting her to come skidding across the tiles and say something insulting.

My mom stands by the counter, her hands fluttering about. “Um, drinks. I should make drinks.”

“Mom,” I say, “it’s fine, we’re fine. Come sit down.”

She wrings her hands together and forces a feeble smile. We sit around the dining table and I give my parents as much of an update as I can.

“Some of Grant’s officers found signs of a struggle on the route to Priya’s house. River, Jude, and Eli are there now gathering evidence.” What I don’t tell them is that when Grant called before we took off, he also told us there was blood at the scene. They’re testing it now to see if it matches Zach’s or Layla’s.

I squeeze Freya’s hand and try not to think about my sister lying in a pool of her own blood. The photo Freya received proves Layla was still alive when it was taken but that doesn’t mean she still is, and if I let myself think about Zach’s hand on her body vomit burns my throat.

Out of all of us, I have the least violent tendencies but right now I want to tear Zach limb from limb.

My family is not a part of this world. I worked hard to keep it that way but now I’ve brought a predator to our doorstep and my mother can tell me it’s not my fault as much as she likes, but it doesn’t change the fact that if I didn’t do this job, my sister would be safe right now.

“So, what’s the plan?” my dad asks.

Freya draws in a breath. “The man who’s taken Layla, he’s my brother. He wants to meet with me. In exchange, he’ll let Layla go.”

My mom reaches across the table and rests her hand on Freya’s arm. “That doesn’t sound safe.”

“She won’t be going in alone,” I explain. “The meeting’s set for eight AM tomorrow in Laurette Park. We’ll have undercover FBI agents in place. As soon as Zach tells Freya where Layla is we’ll get Layla out and take Zach down.”

“Just like that?” my dad asks, his nails scratching at his beard.

I nod.

“And if he refuses to tell you where Layla is?”

“We’ll arrest him anyway. Interrogate him.”

Freya and I spend the next half hour or so trying to convince my parents the plan will work but it’s not an easy feat when I don’t like the plan myself. It gives Zach too much control and there are way too many variables. The only thing working to our advantage is that the meet is taking place in a public location. If I’m honest though, the plan sucks. We need something more.

I’m too restless to be sitting here doing nothing so eventually I excuse myself and go to my room.

My old computer set up is still in place on the desk and I power up the large screen and connect my laptop to it. I didn’t bother to turn the lights on when I came in and the dusk falling outside makes the illumination from the screen borderline ghostly.

I put my headphones in and disappear online.

Two hours later I know everything there is to know about Zach. Everything except his current location.

A soft knock on the door filters past the folksy tune and I lower my headphones around my neck.

Freya comes in, River, Jude, and Eli behind her.

“We’ve got a lead,” River says, and I sit up straighter. “The blood at the scene isn’t Zach or Layla’s. It belongs to Marcus Briggs, a low-level criminal that’s only on the FBI’s radar because he crosses state lines. Grant should be sending you his social security details.”

I check my email and find Briggs’ casefile. A trace on his bank account shows me he bought takeout last night from an Indian place a couple of towns over. I show River. “Can we get people on the ground there, search the area?”

River makes the call. It’s a good lead, but it’s not enough. We can’t go storming into every house and it’s too wide an area to cover in one night.

I lean back in the gamer chair and run my palm over my face. “We need more,” I say, “or Freya’s walking into a fucking trap tomorrow.”

Everyone stills when I curse, and four heads turn to look at me. “What,” I snap, “a missing sister isn’t reason enough to fucking swear?”

Freya and Jude share a glance but no one comments.

“Why is he working with Briggs? Where did they even meet? Briggs lives in Danville.” River asks and I send him a silent thanks for focusing us back on the case.

“He has a record though, right?” Freya asks. “And Zach would have access to the FBI’s database.”

My gaze snaps up to Freya. She’s right. I’ve spent the last few hours digging into Zach’s online presence, but I’d missed the bloody obvious. Until I locked his and Farrah’s accounts down this afternoon, Zach had access to the entire FBI database.

“Freya, you’re a genius.”

Jude scuffles on his feet. “I mean technically, I’m the gen?—”

Eli elbows him. “Dude, shut the fuck up.”

I spin my seat back around and bring up the FBI’s property list. “If you needed to hide someone and you had access to one of the country’s most secure agencies, where would you go?”

River plants a hand on my desk and peers over my shoulder at the screen. “An FBI safe house.”

“Bingo.”

“Is his name-o,” Jude adds, gripping the back of my chair.

My fingers fly over the keyboard as I filter the locations for any safe houses nearby. There’s only two and one of them is just a street away from the takeaway Briggs ate at last night.

My heart races as I keep typing, diving deep into the FBI’s systems and doing something I probably, really shouldn’t do.

All of our safehouses are hooked up with security systems. Security systems that include interior and exterior cameras. I write the final bit of code to cut through the layers of protection and press enter.

A series of video images pop up onto my screen showing the different rooms of the safe house. I click through them until movement catches my eye. There.

My breath catches.

Layla is tied to a chair in the front room. Her head hangs forward, a gag tied around her mouth, but she’s alive. I stare at the screen, watching her chest rise and fall.

“Holy shit,” Jude whispers. “You found her.”

“That’s Briggs.” Freya points to the corner of the video where a man with long hair sits on the couch, his legs kicked up on the cushions. He’s eating from a packet of chips, a gun laid across his lap.

I stand up. “Let’s go, I don’t want her alone with him a second longer.”

“Wait.” River stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “Look.” He nods to the screen. “It’s just Briggs and Layla. Zach’s not there and Briggs has a gun.”

“So?” I snap.

“If we go now,” River says patiently, “Zach won’t show at the meet tomorrow. He won’t have any leverage.”

“And we need to wait for Briggs to leave the room before going in or it will turn into a hostage situation,” Jude adds.

“I don’t like the idea of leaving Layla there,” Freya says.

I squeeze my eyes shut, the profiler in me conflicting with the brother in me. I want my sister safe, but I also want the man who took her and so long as Zach is out there, Freya isn’t safe either.

“If we want to catch Zach,” River says, “we need to wait till morning. As soon as he shows at the park we can get Layla out. If we go now, he’ll disappear.”

I stare at the computer screen, my hands curling into fists as everything in me rebels against this plan. “I’m not leaving her there alone overnight. What if he hurts her?”

“She won’t be alone,” River says. “We’ve got eyes on her. I’ll have Grant send a team to wait down the street. If it looks like anything is going to happen to Layla, we’ll go in early.”

River squeezes my shoulder. “We do this right, Oz, we wait for a SWAT team and we go in with a plan.”

I press my lips together. Layla’s head shifts to the side a little and her face comes into view. Strands of her dark brown hair fall across her cheek. She’s unconscious but she looks unharmed. He’s probably keeping her sedated.

Part of me is glad for that. I’d rather she be asleep than awake and terrified. And as much as I hate it, I know River’s right. Zach’s not with Layla and Briggs is just hired muscle. Layla isn’t at risk of immediate harm. This is our best chance of catching Zach and protecting Freya, so if that means we have to wait, then I need to suck it up.

“Fine,” I say, sitting back down in the gaming chair. I’ll wait, but I’m not taking my eyes off this screen for a single second. I grip the ends of the arms and lock my gaze on my sister.

Being able to see her but not do anything to help feels like my own personal brand of torture. I’ve spent half my life finding nightmares on the internet, I made it my job to hunt those people down. But all I can do now is watch and hope to god no one lays a finger on my little sister.