Chapter 57
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
“Okay, take a breath everyone. We need to approach this with strategy and logic running the ship, not emotion, alright?” Walker says to the room as we all agree.
Or I think I agree. I’m not sure. The world has slowed and blurred slightly around me. I breathe in for three and out for six, telling my nervous system I am safe. I am competent. I can handle this.
I can stop Graham.
“Walker is right. We would look at the unsub and consider his motivation to come to Nashville. The obvious answer would be for me, but he hasn’t made any type of contact with me.” I take the Diet Coke from Christine’s outstretched hand with a small nod.
This is routine.
This is what we do.
“But why now? He’s known where I’ve been this entire time. Unless…” I don’t want to finish that sentence.
I look down at my left hand and the nausea from earlier rears its head at the very likely reasoning for Graham’s trip to Nashville.
My fiancé.
Where is Ryan?
“Where is he?” Walker pulls me from my thoughts as I grab my cell phone. My text from earlier still doesn’t say delivered, and we have our read receipts enabled with each other, so it should say read by now. I press the call button and wait for it to connect.
“His plane from Chicago landed at four this afternoon, but I haven’t heard from him. I texted him before going into this meeting, but I—” I try to find my breath again as his phone goes straight to voicemail. I shake my head. “He isn’t answering, and his phone isn’t ringing through.”
“Let’s find your man, shall we?” Mason asks as he pulls up the footage from inside the Nashville airport—a massive perk of being a federal agency and having airports within our jurisdiction.
“Here’s his flight from Chicago, looks like they landed at 4:02, and …
there he is, walking with the other passengers.
” We watch as Mason switches cameras and follows Ryan through the airport, to baggage claim, and as he walks to the parking garage.
Ryan steps off the elevator on the fourth level of the parking garage, and then … nothing.
“Where did he go?” Walker barks as Mason types furiously.
“I don’t know, this doesn’t make sense. The footage just stops.” Mason keeps trying to override whatever is happening, but he can’t make the footage appear. It glitches for a moment with static, then drops off the screen completely.
“You won’t find it because there isn’t any. I bet he used a jammer of some sort to block the video feed,” I say as I grab my phone and look for another number. I glance at Walker, and he nods as though he can read my thoughts.
Plausible deniability.
I’ve heard the Callahans joke about it with Walker, and how they will use the phrase when they want to shield him from being put in a position where he would potentially have to pick between the badge and the family.
They can have my badge right now. I don’t care. I don’t need the badge—I need Ryan.
I step out of the conference room and briskly cross the hallway to my office, then shut the door behind me and lean against it. I press connect and wait for three rings before he picks up.
“Hey, Harlow, what’s up?” Liam’s voice is the spark of hope I need right now.
“Liam, I need to know if you’re in the country and if there’s any way to track Ryan outside of his cell phone or car.”
“I’m not right now, but what happened?”
“You said if I ever needed anything I could call and ask, so I’m cashing in every favor I could ever possibly ask with one simple request: if you can track Ryan somehow, I need you to do that right now. He’s missing and we can’t find him after he left the airport.”
“I will need more information when we have time but hold on.” I hear him yell for Sophia and put the call on speakerphone. “Harlow’s on the line and we need to track Ryan.”
“Hi, Harlow, give me a second to get his tracker online. Hang tight, honey, we’ll find him.
And then we will make whoever is behind this pay for stressing you out.
Okay … I’ve got him. He’s in a warehouse district just southeast of Nashville.
He looks stationary. I can send you his exact tracking location to your phone. What else do you need?”
“I think we have it from here. I just needed his location.”
“Harlow, we are changing our plans immediately to get back to the states as soon as possible, but you’ll call me when this is all settled or let me know if there’s anything else you need.
I’m not there, but I have people everywhere.
” Liam’s vow only furthers the terror I’m trying to push back.
I don’t want to need to call in more favors.
I don’t want to have to hunt down whoever took Ryan, but this is happening.
And right now, I have to mentally and emotionally stay in this moment.
I can break later.
But first, I need to get my man.
“I will keep you in the loop as much as I can.” My voice sounds braver than I feel at the moment.
“That’s all I’m asking, Whiz Kid. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Liam and I disconnect, and I’m sure he’s moving heaven and earth to get back from wherever he is—but I’m not waiting for Liam to get here to try and find Ryan.
I will not stop until we find my man.
I rush across the hall back to the conference room as a video feed of Ryan’s car is on the screen. “He isn’t in his car, Harlow. Airport security can see his phone and his luggage in the backseat, but there’s no sign of him.” Kelly immediately calms my fears, even though I know he isn’t there.
Knowing what kind of psychopathic need for control Graham has, he isn’t going to rush this. Ryan is still alive—for now, at least.
“I know where he is. And don’t ask me how, but Mason, can you somehow get this location off my phone so you can have it, too?” I give him my phone that has a text link from Sophia.
A small green dot labeled ‘Ryan’ shines steadily on the map, unmoving in an industrial area.
“This is great, let’s go. I’m calling the strike team now.” Walker grabs his cell phone and is already talking away before stepping back to me and covering the phone. “We will find him, Harlow. I promise.”
“I know. Thank you.” My friend nods at me before we file out and head to our offices to grab our vests and gear.
Kelly is driving the SUV I’m in with my team as Mason continues to work on his laptop.
“Harlow, remember that offshore account that was wonky and only had the single transaction for that auction mix-up you dealt with in December?” Mason calls from the backseat.
I nod. How could I forget? My parents still think I did that on purpose, but when Mason looked into it, the trail led to a random offshore account that wasn’t even in my name. There was no logical explanation for what happened. I should have asked Sophia to look into it, but I forgot.
“They had a second transaction. Two days ago, that account bought an abandoned warehouse that is the exact address where we are headed.”
“It’s him. He’s not only The Carnation Killer, but he abducted Ryan when your engagement triggered him and blew up whatever fantasy he has in his head about you,” Walker growls, and surprisingly, I wish I could growl right now.
I am fucking pissed off.
I thought this guy was a colleague, a friendly resource to be a sounding board, but instead, he was tainting beautiful moments and important milestones in my life by killing innocent women.
And why? Because I turned him down years ago?
Because I was in the room and kind to him when the police informed him of his mother’s death?
I don’t care about the emotional transference that may have occurred in that moment.
It’s possible I somehow remind him of his mother, and he has some Oedipus complex that’s distorted the attachment with his mother and his relationship with me.
But right now, I don’t care about any of that.
The only thing that matters today is bringing Ryan home safely.
The FBI tactical team is already in place when we roll up two blocks away.
Walker announces into his mic, “Approaching from the east. Strike team’s set.” We quickly move, silent but ready for whatever is on the other side of the door.
“East side door access ready for your entry. Heat signatures from overhead drone indicate individuals in the northwest corner. Unable to verify what level due to concrete walls, but the building plans say there are four floors,” someone from the tactical unit says over the comms.
“Copy that. We’ll make entry then sweep the building.
Expect the suspect to be armed and holding a Caucasian thirty-nine-year-old male with brown hair hostage.
” Walker’s voice is firm but as quiet as possible as we approach the building.
The tactical team enters first, and we quickly confirm that the first floor is clear, just as we hear from their command that the suspect is on the second floor.
“Harlow, I—” Walker is going to give me some kind of pep talk or warning, but I don’t really want either of them.
“I know, Walker. I’m good. Let’s go.” He gives me a decisive nod, and we make our way up the stairs.
The building is old, dirty, and the wet smell of stale air hangs from the damp ceilings.
The space is filled with metal shelving units that are between thirty and forty feet tall, but most of the rusty shelves are bare, except for a few boxes scattered amongst them.
They provide some—but not very good—coverage.
“That’s far enough,” Graham’s voice calls out from somewhere on the floor further down the aisle. “I don’t know who hacked the cameras, but good job on the silent entry, you almost had me.”
We continue to make our approach, creeping along the abandoned shelving units. Thankfully, there are more boxes on the shelves the further we go, until Tara and I reach the end of the row.