Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
Jessica leaned back against the van door, the metal warm against her skin.
She watched as Ryan dragged the last of the branches off the road, muscles flexing with each movement.
Her body still hummed with the lingering imprint of his—of the way he had pressed against her moments ago, heat and strength wrapped in the scent of rain and earth.
For the first time since leaving Florida, hope didn’t feel like some distant, unattainable thing. It swelled inside her, displacing the weight that had been crushing her chest for days. A lightness spread through her, as if a storm had passed, not just the hurricane, but the one inside her.
She looked down at his phone, suddenly remembering what she was supposed to be doing. Finding a signal. Figuring out where they were. Searching for a place to sleep tonight.
Although, she had the distinct feeling there wouldn’t be much sleeping involved.
That thought sent a rush of warmth through her veins, the lingering tingle in her blood turning into something effervescent.
She focused on the screen. The phone had finally latched onto a network, and notifications began rolling in, one after another. Missed calls. Texts. Updates. A string of alerts scrolled past, but her eyes caught on one name—Dad. Ryan’s father had tried to reach him. More than once.
News alerts pinged in rapid succession. Headlines about Hurricane Petra flashed across the screen, each one painting a picture of devastation.
The storm had carved a path of destruction from Galveston to Pensacola, ripping off roofs, washing out roads, and setting off landslides.
It had now tracked northeast, unloading months’ worth of rain onto North Carolina.
But as she scrolled, one alert stood out—something that had nothing to do with the hurricane.
And the moment she read it, that lightness inside her turned to lead.
U.S. Marshals hunt for one of their own after a woman is abducted from Panama City Beach, FL.
Her thumb jabbed at the screen, leaving a sweaty mark behind. The story took forever to load because the signal kept losing bars. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and glanced up at Ryan.
“Anything?” he called.
She shook her head quickly, trying not to notice that her hands gripping the phone were shaking. Finally, the article finished loading.
TALLAHASSEE, FL. U.S. Marshals are today hunting for one of their own after a Florida woman, 31, was abducted from her home in Panama City Beach on Friday night by Deputy U.S.
Marshal Ryan Inglis, 34. The woman is believed to be a member of the ultra-secret Witness Security Program, and the alleged abduction was carried out by Inglis under the guise of relocating her to a safe site in Louisiana.
The motive remains unknown, as does the location of the two individuals.
Inglis, who serves as a Deputy U.S. Marshal with the U.S.
Marshals Service in the Western District of Tennessee, is a veteran fugitive hunter with a sterling record.
He is the second-in-command of the Two Rivers Violent Fugitive Task Force, based out of Memphis.
It is understood that he used his position within this multi-agency Task Force to access highly confidential information about the missing woman, including details about where she was living and working.
He then used this information to gain her trust and convince her to leave with him.
The U.S. Marshal for the Western District of Tennessee, Kirk Leacham, made this statement today: ‘I am deeply disappointed to learn that one of our own has betrayed his oath of service and integrity, and has tarnished the reputation of the WITSEC program, which remains a sacred responsibility for all sworn U.S. marshals.
‘We are in the process of tracing the deputy marshal’s vehicle and phone, as well as any devices the woman may have on her, but our attempts have been hampered by Hurricane Petra.
Cell towers are damaged in many areas and some of the roads are in bad shape.
There really couldn’t be worse timing for an operation like this. ’
The U.S. Marshals Office of Public Affairs released this statement: ‘The federal Witness Security Program, colloquially known as WITSEC, has been in place since the 1970s. In that time, we have only a handful of breaches and no participant who followed security guidelines has been harmed while under the active protection of U.S. marshals. The United States Marshals Service is committed to ensuring the woman is located, the offender is brought to justice, and that this incident remains an isolated one.’
She looked up, her eyes going to Ryan, wide with horror. Even as she stared at him, her brain was desperately trying to process what she’d just read.
Because it didn’t make any sense. She hadn’t been kidnapped. She’d gone with the marshal willingly, because her house had been broken into and her cover blown.
Ryan hadn’t been responsible for any of that. He hadn’t ransacked her place and painted that thing on the wall. There was no way he had.
Right?
She looked back down at the phone, an absurd hope blooming that this was all some kind of elaborate joke.
One part of the article jumped out at her: he used his position within this multi-agency Task Force to access highly confidential information about the missing woman, including details about where she was living and working.
He then used this information to gain her trust and convince her to leave with him.
It suddenly dawned on her that this was no joke. And while she didn’t understand the how or the why of it, she understood one thing.
She had to get the fuck out of here.
Right now.
The moment that realization hit her, adrenaline kicked in.
She dropped the phone, and it landed with a splash in a pothole at her feet.
She yanked open the van door and hauled herself into the driver’s seat.
Her hand automatically went to turn the key in the ignition, but of course there wasn’t one. The engine was already running.
She rammed the shifter into reverse and when she looked up, she saw Ryan through the side window.
He was still standing there in the road, looking profoundly confused.
She had a moment again of thinking that this couldn’t possibly be real, that it was Ryan, the sweet, shy, uptight man who’d held her hand last night when she’d been scared.
Who cared about her dance therapy dream.
Who’d called her pretty. And who’d just told her he wanted there to be an us.
Then she saw his eyes flick to his dropped phone—and then to hers. In an instant, the confusion vanished from his face, replaced by dawning horror.
And just like that, she had her answer.
It was all true.
He jogged towards her. “Jessica, wait, please let me explain.”
She buried the accelerator.
The car shot backwards, bouncing over the potholed pavement. She shifted into drive and yanked the steering wheel around. The van turned in a wide arc, narrowly avoiding running off the blacktop and into the muddy verge.
She kept her foot on the accelerator, lurching over the rutted asphalt.
She couldn’t see where she was going because the windshield was cobwebbed with cracks.
The tears filling her eyes weren’t helping, either.
She dashed them aside with the back of her hand.
She was driving blind, but it didn’t matter.
The only thing that mattered was getting as far away from Ryan Inglis as possible.