Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
One breath in, hold it for five seconds, then let it out for another five seconds.
Zita had gone over every inch of her prison cell.
There weren’t any loose pieces of metal, not a single loose screw, nothing.
She was literally in a metal box with two hard slabs sticking out of the wall.
She had nothing to eat, to drink…but far more importantly, nothing to signal that she was here.
She was trying to do everything in her power to keep the panic from taking over.
Silas had led her a few levels down into the huge ship, and then down several corridors.
Even if someone knew to look for her in this hunk of metal, it would probably take a week for them to check every room.
And she didn’t have a week. Not without anything to drink.
She could live without food for a while, but not fluids.
All she could do was lie on one of the bunks and breathe. She dozed off and on, but when she was awake, she did her best to ignore her growling belly by counting her breaths. She wasn’t ready to give up, but she honestly had no idea how anyone…how Sage…would find her.
Also, the longer she was in the dark, the more sounds she heard.
And the more she was convinced there were spirits inside this ship.
She’d been awakened earlier by the sound of a door slamming shut.
Thinking someone was here, that they were searching for her, she’d leapt up and screamed as loudly as she could.
She’d pounded on the door, not that her fists made much noise against the thick metal door, but she couldn’t simply lie there and do nothing.
Except after a while, she realized no one was there. It was just as silent as it had been from the moment she was locked in.
Two minutes after she sat down on the metal bed, slumped in despair, she heard what sounded like laughter. It was high-pitched and eerie, only lasting for a split second.
“That wasn’t funny!” she called out, pissed off at the spirits for messing with her head.
Of course, she got no response.
Hours after that—at least, she assumed it was hours—Zita could’ve sworn she felt a cold breeze against her face. But that was impossible, considering she was way down in the bowels of the ship.
In any other circumstance, Zita might’ve freaked out at the thought of being surrounded by ghosts. But other than teasing her by slamming that metal door, they didn’t feel mean-spirited.
She still thought it was more likely she was losing her mind. That happened when people were put into solitary confinement, or so she’d read. But thinking there were spirits around made her feel not quite so alone.
“Sage is gonna come,” she said out loud, needing to hear something other than the ominous creaking of the ship and her own heartbeat.
“Wait until you see him. He’s gorgeous. Muscular, sexy.
He makes me feel beautiful too, which hasn’t really happened to me before.
He’s funny, and smart, and the best pilot in the world. And he loves me.”
The last words were whispered.
“I’m still having a hard time believing it.
I mean, I’m just me. I’m no one special.
And yet, when I’m with him, I feel special.
Like I’m the most important person in his world.
It’s a heady feeling. He works really hard, and he’s a hero too.
He’s probably been on lots of ships just like this one.
He flies helicopters for a living. And he’s damn good at it.
He’s looking for me. Probably worrying like crazy about where I am.
But he’ll figure it out. Him and his friends.
They’ll find Silas, see what I did to his face and know he was the one who kidnapped me.
My DNA is in his trunk, and they’ll look at his past work history and come check this stupid shipyard.
He claimed he was the best at hide-and-go seek—but fuck him! They’ll find me.”
Zita paused.
“I just wish they’d hurry up.”
Swallowing hard, she took another deep breath in, held it for five seconds, then let it out slowly while counting once more to five.
Patience. She just had to have patience.
But there was a giant clock in her head that was counting the passage of time…
and hers was ticking. As a medic, she knew exactly what the lack of water would do to her.
Exactly how being dehydrated would slowly kill her.
It didn’t matter how strong she was. How smart, how much she loved Sage.
Time wasn’t on her side. She knew it, and he probably did too.
Deep breath.
Hold it.
Let it out.
All she could do was concentrate on breathing. One breath at a time.
Buck was currently trying to get Obi-Wan to eat something, but he was in no mood.
Would probably puke if he tried to eat. Every time he looked up, he saw the clock that sat over the bar at Anchor Point.
It was one of those old-fashioned ones. With a huge face and a second hand that ticked along slowly but steadily.
It seemed to be mocking Obi-Wan, and he swore he could hear the actual ticking of that damn second hand over the voices and other noise in the room.
He was well aware of how much time was passing. If Zita was hurt, every one of those seconds could mean life or death. It was almost physically painful to stand there and wait for something to happen.
For one of the searchers to find Zita’s body.
For the cops to call and say that Silas had finally broken and told them what he’d done.
For Carmen St. James to get a fucking conscience and spill the beans on the plot.
But none of those things had happened yet, and Obi-Wan was about to lose his mind.
Running a hand through his hair, he decided he was done. He needed out of there. Had no idea where he’d go, but he couldn’t stay in this fucking room one second longer.
Then two things happened at once.
The front door opened and Obi-Wan’s phone rang.
A woman entered the bar with a large black Labrador Retriever on a lead.
The dog had a black and orange harness that said SEARCH DOG in bold black letters along the side.
The woman was wearing a pair of navy cargo pants with the pockets bulging, and a navy polo shirt with a small white logo on the upper left chest. Her brown hair was short, and if he had to guess, he’d say she was about five-six.
She wasn’t smiling, was instead looking around the room as if searching for someone.
She locked eyes with Obi-Wan, and began walking his way.
Seeing the search dog made him feel even sicker than he was before. He couldn’t help but think about cadaver dogs. He had no proof that’s what the black Lab was, but he didn’t want to even face the possibility.
Turning his back on the woman walking toward him, Obi-Wan answered his phone.
“Found the connection,” Tex said without preamble.
“Shortly before Graves was picked up, he called one of the security guards he used to work with at the ship scrapyard. As far as I can tell, he hadn’t talked to the man in months.
Why call him out of the blue, in that case, right before kidnapping someone?
I called the detective in charge, he went out and grabbed the man and had a chat with him.
He said Graves was on the property early yesterday morning, warned him not to tell anyone.
Seems mighty suspicious to me. Then he said Graves was somewhere on the property for about an hour and a half.
Claimed he didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary.
Not sure I believe him, but he swears he’s telling the truth.
“A deputy from the sheriff’s office is coming to Anchor Point to escort you to the shipyard. She’s bringing her search dog. You’ll need something of Zita’s for the dog to scent on. She’s there, Obi-Wan—I’d bet my reputation on it.”
“Is it…it’s not a cadaver dog, is it?” he whispered, not even caring that his voice broke as he asked the question.
“No. It’s a scent-driven search dog.” Tex’s voice was sympathetic and reassuring.
Obi-Wan was relieved, but he still felt dizzy.
Could this nightmare be coming to an end?
It was the morning of day two, not quite forty-eight hours…
but it seemed like an eternity. There was still no guarantee Zita was alive, that Silas hadn’t taken her to the shipyard and killed her before dumping her body in the ocean or stashing it in one of the rusted-out metal hulks on the property.
But maybe, just maybe…
He let the thought fade away as he turned to face the deputy.
Edge had stopped her from approaching, talking to the woman with a frown on his face. It looked as if they were having an intense conversation. But Obi-Wan was more than ready to stop fucking talking and get out of there. That clock behind the bar was still ticking away too damn loudly.
“I’m working on satellite data, and if I see anything I’ll let you know. I’ll be in touch,” Tex said, before severing their connection.
Obi-Wan put his phone back in his pocket and quickly walked over to Edge and the deputy.
The woman turned toward him and held out a hand. “Jennifer Williams. This is Fred.” She gestured to the black Lab sitting at her side. Even the dog looked serious.
“He any good?” Obi-Wan asked.
She nodded. “One hundred and forty-two searches. One hundred and thirty-four successful finds. And before you ask, the eight he didn’t find were false alarms, not missing people, so I’m not counting those as failures.”
Obi-Wan nodded. “Zita spent the night at my apartment the other night. I can get the pillowcase from the pillow she used.”
“Perfect, let’s go.”
Happy that the woman seemed to be as eager as he was to get started, Obi-Wan strode toward the door.
“I’m coming too,” Edge said.
All of Obi-Wan’s focus was on getting to that scrapyard. He didn’t care if the entire population of Norfolk came along to watch and help. All that mattered was finding his woman.