Chapter 39
At first, I thought Taryn had butt dialed me. She didn't leave a direct message. It just recorded the ambiance of the room.
Then I heard it.
A familiar voice growled, "Give it to me now, or I swear to God I'll blow your fucking head off.”
It didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out what was going on.
"I don't have it, Oren,” Taryn said.
She had dialed me without his knowledge and was hoping I'd overhear the conversation.
"Bullshit! I know you have it. I want the incantation now!”
"Don't you think you're taking all this too far?”
Oren snarled again. "I haven't taken it far enough, and I'm running out of time.”
"I don't have it."
"Say you don't have it one more time, and you're fucking dead.”
"Okay. Okay."
Commotion rumbled through the speaker, and I couldn’t make out what was said after that. Eventually, the call disconnected, and the time limit was up on my voicemail.
With a grave look on my face, I told JD, "We’ve gotta go!”
His brow wrinkled at me. "This party is just getting started.”
"Now!”
By my tone, he knew this was serious.
We hustled out of the backstage area and through the crowd, racing for the Porsche. I called the sheriff and told him to send a patrol unit to Taryn's house. Then I called Isabella and asked her to track Taryn’s phone.
With a few keystrokes, Isabella told me that the phone was still at Taryn’s house.
We reached the Porsche, hopped in, and sped across the island. The flat-six howled as Jack rowed through the gears, putting the classic car through its paces.
By the time we got to Taryn’s bungalow, Mendoza had already arrived. His patrol car was parked out front with lights flashing. The commotion had drawn a crowd of neighbors.
JD parked at the curb, and we hustled through the gate and up the walkway. Taryn's car was in the driveway. The front door was ajar.
With my weapon drawn, I shouted into the house, "Mendoza. It's me."
"I'm inside," he shouted back. "She's not here.”
We pushed through the foyer and stepped into the living room to join Mendoza.
Taryn’s purse was on the ground. The place had been ransacked—books pulled from shelves, cabinets and drawers opened.
“I've been through the whole house," Mendoza said. "There's no sign of her. Looks like the perp got in through a bedroom window. The screen is off, and he must have punched a screwdriver through the glass to move the latch.”
"He held her at gunpoint and took her hostage,” I said as I picked up Taryn’s purse from the floor and rummaged through it.
Her cell phone was inside.
A grimace tugged my face. We had no way to track her.
“He’s going to use her as the last sacrifice,” I said in a grave tone.
“Where would he do that?” JD asked.
“A quiet place, under the full moon.”
I called the sheriff and had him put a BOLO out on Oren’s black hot hatch. He probably forced her at gunpoint to drive.
My next call was to Isabella. "I need another favor.”
"Tyson, you can't run out of favors with me. Not after what we've been through."
I need you to look at Oren’s cell history. I want to know every place he's been in the last month, and in particular, places he's visited more than once. I need to find a pattern for this guy.”
"I'm on it," she said, her fingers racing across the keys.
I held on the line while we continued to look around for clues that might have been left behind. We didn’t turn up much.
Mendoza started banging on neighboring doors, and so did JD and I.
Nobody recalled seeing Oren leave with Taryn.
We hopped in the Porsche and started driving around the island, looking for Oren’s car, hoping we’d get lucky.
"I think I’ve got something," Isabella said. "Oren’s phone is off the grid right now. But it's made a couple trips out to Whistler Cay. One earlier today.”
I had the call on speaker now so JD could hear.
"It's pretty remote out there. Nothing but mangrove swamps and a little bit of land. Lots of channels to get lost in. If I was going to kidnap a hostage and sacrifice her to a wolf god under the moon, that’d be the place I’d do it.”
I asked Isabella if she could get a satellite feed on the island.
"Not right now. I can't task a satellite for this. I’d need several hours’ advance notice. I can tap into current feeds, but there's nothing over the area." She paused. "Now, if you get out there with a drone and give me remote access, I can provide overwatch.”
“We are en route now,” I said. “Keep me posted in case Oren’s phone pops up on the grid.”
"Doubtful. But I'll stay frosty.”
We headed back to the Avventura, hustled down the dock, and gathered our tactical gear and the drone. Then we hurried to the station, commandeered a zodiac, and took off for Whistler Cay.
Jack took the helm and throttled up as we passed the breakwater. The twin outboards howled, and the rigid inflatable skimmed across the inky swells. The moon glowed overhead, fat and full. A few clouds drifted on the breeze. The stars were our audience for this high-stakes adventure.
The sky rumbled in the distance as the second tropical storm rolled in.
Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I hoped we could get to Whistler Cay soon enough. I hoped our hunch was right. For all I knew, we were heading in the wrong direction.