25. Vaughn
25
VAUGHN
The next day
A ll of us gathered around the kitchen for a team meeting.
Brandon planted his palms on the breakfast bar. “Here’s the sitrep. We lost eyes on Hope at zero six thirty yesterday. Her last known location is the trucking depot, and since then, we’ve followed every vehicle that’s left the premises. We’ve gathered intel and conducted surveillance on each of their destinations, and none of them appear suspicious or to have links to the cartel.”
“What if Hope and Ortega haven’t left the depot?” asked Owen.
Shep adjusted the brim of his stained ball cap. “Or what if the depot is the compound?”
“It doesn’t fit the description Hope gave us.” Sage rested her hip against the counter. “No mansion. No gardens. I can’t imagine anywhere there might be a large group of children playing nearby. Maybe the cartel has moved to the depot in the three years since Hope spoke to her father, but I doubt Espinoza would establish his compound in a location where there’s a lot of traffic and security is basic at best. I mean, a guy in a booth operating a boom gate? They’re far too exposed to attack or being surrounded by the authorities.”
Goddammit. Nothing added up. If Hope hadn’t been transported anywhere and the depot wasn’t the compound, where the fuck was she?
One of the tech guys reached for the coffeepot beside me, and I tensed at his nearness. My scars tingled, and an image of the dark concrete tunnel I’d been tortured in flashed in my mind.
Instead of sparking panic, the unbidden thought led me somewhere else entirely.
“Or maybe security at the depot is tighter than you think,” I said, and all eyes came to me. I’d said little since Kane had pulled me aside, choosing to bite my tongue instead of losing my shit over our unbearable lack of results. “Cartels love slithering into their tunnels. What if the depot is an entry point?”
“Seems like a long shot, but it’s possible,” Brandon said. “If you’re right, that’s a fatal funnel we don’t want to venture into.”
No shit. Attacking a well-defended tunnel was suicide. At a choke point with zero cover, we’d take on heavy casualties. Plus, it would hardly be the stealthy approach we sought.
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “So we look for the end point. What’s the longest known narco tunnel?”
Kane pointed to the map of Mexico on the wall. “A few years back, there was one from TJ that ran all the way to San Diego County. Almost one-and-a-half klicks.”
Brandon nodded. “Double it, and that’s our search radius. Start by looking for mansions fitting Hope’s original description, but flag anything that looks suspicious.”