Chapter Fourteen
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Brenna mentally repeated the news that Colt had just delivered. Jared, abducted. One hour to find him.
It sounded like a hoax, a twisted game. But with everything that had already happened, she couldn’t dismiss it. Not when so many had already died and others had come close to being killed. She hoped they didn’t have to add another body count to the tally.
With Colt behind the wheel of the SUV, they pulled into the lot of the sheriff’s office and hurried inside. One step inside, and Brenna could feel that the tension hung thick in the air.
Naomi was already there, pacing near the front desk, her arms crossed tight, face pale. She wasn’t wearing makeup and her hair was pulled back in a messy knot. The usual polish was gone.
“She came in trying to reschedule her interview,” one of the deputies told them quietly as they passed. “TV thing this afternoon. Sheriff wasn’t amused.”
The sheriff met them in the hall just outside the war room. “Thanks for coming. I’ve asked Crossfire for help. We’ve got forty-five minutes left on that deadline.”
Brenna nodded. “Do we know if it’s real?”
“We don’t know anything yet,” Sheriff Chase admitted. “But we’re treating it as real.”
Naomi looked up as they passed. Her eyes were red. “He’s like a son to me,” she said. “Please help him.”
Brenna didn’t reply. Not yet. Her mind was already racing ahead, trying to figure out who would take Jared… and why.
The sheriff led them all into her office and closed the door. A map of the city was spread out across the desk, push pins and notes already crowding the surface.
“Jared was taken sometime overnight,” she began. “We don’t know when exactly. No witnesses. No signs of forced entry at his apartment.”
Brenna frowned. “So he might’ve known the person?”
“Maybe,” the sheriff said. “Naomi says she left him there around seven last night. That’s the last time she saw him.”
Naomi, still pale and visibly shaking, pulled out her phone and held it toward them. “Then I got this.”
The message was short. Cold.
You have one hour. If you want Jared alive, don’t stall. You’ll get instructions.
Brenna stared at the screen. “No location. No hint where he might be.”
“Nothing yet,” the sheriff confirmed. “San Antonio PD is canvassing the area around his apartment. We’ve got officers pulling any nearby surveillance footage.”
Colt leaned in closer. “And there’s been no follow-up? No second message?”
“Not yet,” Naomi said, her voice thin. “Just that one.”
Brenna felt the pressure mounting. Less than an hour left. No clues. No second chance if they got this wrong.
There was a sharp knock at the door.
The sheriff opened it, and Noah stepped in with Harlan and Beck right behind him. Beck’s presence gave Brenna a flicker of surprise. She hadn't expected the combat medic, but she knew Beck had solid operational skills. Right now, they might need everyone they could get.
“Naomi’s phone,” Noah said, tipping his head toward it. “I can try to trace the number that sent the message.”
Naomi nodded and handed it over. “Please. Do whatever you can.”
Noah took it, but before he could even unlock the screen, a new message appeared. The room went still as he read it aloud.
“He’s in the cave near the dry creek bed east of Timberline. You’ve got forty-two minutes. Save him or he dies.”
Brenna and Colt moved fast, slipping out of the sheriff’s office and heading straight to their SUV. Harlan and Noah followed close behind, splitting off toward the one they arrived in. The sheriff gave a tight order for Naomi to stay put, then took off with one of his deputies.
Colt slid behind the wheel and started the engine, tires crunching on gravel as they peeled out. Brenna opened her tablet, fingers moving quickly as she pulled up an aerial shot of the cave system. The image loaded, a satellite view filled with deep green and jagged gray.
She knew that stretch of land. Everyone involved with the Timberline investigation did. It had been canvassed hard back then.
The cave they were heading toward sat nestled in a heavily wooded patch about three-quarters of a mile east of Timberline.
There was no clear road in, just foot trails that had likely overgrown.
Thick stands of cedar and oak tangled around the approach, and massive rock outcroppings jutted up like broken bones.
The dry creek bed cut a winding path near the cave mouth, its chalky banks sun-bleached and jagged.
“Nothing but trees, stone, and shadows,” Brenna muttered, her pulse already racing. And really bad memories.
Colt didn’t glance away from the road. “Perfect place for an ambush.”
She nodded, already bracing herself. Because whoever had Jared had chosen that cave for a reason.
Brenna dug into the center console and pulled out their comms gear, quickly fitting the small buds into Colt’s ear and then hers. The SUV hummed along the rural road, trees blurring past the windows. She tapped her mic.
“Noah, you copy?”
A second passed, then his voice crackled through. “Loud and clear. When you get there, you and Colt take the east side of the cave. Harlan and I will come in from the west. Sheriff’s bringing her deputy straight in from the front.”
“Got it,” she said.
Noah’s tone sharpened. “Be careful. If this is like the setup at the water tower, we could be looking at more explosives. Keep your eyes open.”
Colt glanced her way. “You hear that?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I hear him.”
And she heard something else, too. The quiet undercurrent of urgency, the pressure ticking down with every mile they closed. They were racing the clock, and the margin for error had just vanished.
The flashbacks came. Of course, they did. Flashbacks not of explosives and caves but of dead hostages. Memories and reminders that she’d failed. That people had died. She had to shove that aside. Had to. No way could she do this if she let the doubts and guilt consume her.
The miles seemed to crawl by, and it felt as if it took an eternity before Colt pulled off the narrow road and parked just off the shoulder beneath a cluster of cedar trees. The path ahead had narrowed too much for the SUV to continue. Gravel crunched under the tires as he killed the engine.
Noah and Harlan arrived seconds later in the other vehicle, pulling in behind them. Brenna was already out of her seat, opening the back to grab gear. Colt joined her, checking weapons and vests. Her knee still ached, but she pushed past it. They didn’t have time to think about pain.
The sheriff’s cruiser came next, kicking up dust as it pulled to a stop. Sheriff Chase stepped out, her expression tight with focus. She was followed by her deputy, a tall, broad-shouldered woman with a dark braid tucked under her cap. Chase motioned to her.
“Deputy Reyes,” she said.
Noah handed out the remaining comms gear. “These’ll keep us in contact once we’re inside. Everyone good?”
He paused as he looked at Brenna, then at Colt. “You two sure you’re up for this?”
Colt answered without hesitation. “We’re good.”
Brenna gave a nod. “Let’s move.”
With vests secured and weapons checked, the team fell into motion. Brenna took point beside Colt as they started down the uneven trail. Noah’s voice came through her earbud again.
“We’ve got maybe ten minutes on foot before we reach the cave. Could take longer to find Jared once we’re in. Stay sharp.”
Brenna pushed harder, ignoring the sting in her knee. They were close now. Too close to slow down.
Brenna kept her focus on the path ahead as she and Colt veered east through the thick woods.
The others split off. Noah and Harlan heading west, the sheriff and Deputy Reyes going straight ahead.
Leaves crunched beneath their boots, and the sun slanted through the trees in long golden beams. The woods here were dense, full of gnarled oaks and brush, with limestone outcroppings jutting out from the ground like jagged teeth.
Birdsong cut through the quiet, sharp and jarring against the tension in her chest. Her vest pressed tight against her bruises, and her knee throbbed harder, but she pushed through.
Colt was just ahead, careful but quick, his rifle up, sweeping through the trees.
She mirrored him, checking blind spots and watching the rise to their right.
The trail narrowed, barely visible, a path more used by deer than people.
They ducked under a fallen branch, moved around a patch of loose rock, then kept going. The air was cooler in the shade, but her skin was damp with sweat. Every sound made her heart spike. A rustle. A snap. A bird launching into flight. She couldn’t afford to miss anything.
Through her comms, Noah’s voice came low and clear. “We’re about two minutes out. Cave should be just ahead.”
Colt looked over his shoulder and met her eyes. She gave a nod, tightened her grip on the Glock, and kept moving.
They moved fast, careful where they stepped.
Brenna’s heart pounded as her eyes scanned the trail ahead.
No tripwires. No pressure plates. Nothing that looked like a trap, but she kept her hand near her weapon anyway.
The woods were quiet, too quiet, the kind of stillness that pressed in around her.
Colt raised a hand, signaling for her to slow as they reached the edge of the cave. She spotted Noah and Harlan on the other side, about twenty yards away. The sheriff and deputy stepped into a clearing that directly faced the cave.
“Brenna and I are going closer,” Colt said through the earpiece.
They moved together. Slow, cautious steps while they fired glances around them. The others would have their backs, but it was their fronts they had to worry about. Someone could be waiting inside for them.
Waiting to kill.
The cave opened like a gash in the side of the hill. Rough rock, slick with moss. The air inside was cooler, damp, and reeked of something metallic.
“Someone’s there,” Colt murmured.