Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Sebastian Black jerked awake from where he’d dozed off against the cold glass of the Suburban’s rear window as the vehicle lurched to an abrupt stop.
“Where the hell are we?” Seth Hopper scrubbed a hand over his face as they all stared out into the darkness. The guy had proposed to his girlfriend, Zoe, this past weekend—the latest in a long line of confirmed bachelors to fall on the sword of impending matrimony.
Sebastian was happy for the guy. Truly. Zoe was smart and fun and attractive. Then there was Jordan Krychek who, along with Sebastian and Luke Romano, had foiled a jewelry store heist while buying Daisy a ring last week—proving that sort of commitment was dangerous to a person’s health.
Sebastian, for one, had no plans to settle down.
The idea of sharing a life with someone…
relinquishing his freedom and independence?
He rolled a shoulder. Hell, no. He didn’t intend to let anyone control where he went or how he lived.
He had enough of that in his work. While he loved his job and his teammates, he didn’t want complications in his personal life. He was a loner. He liked it that way.
“This”—Ryan Sullivan, “Cowboy,” twisted in the driver’s seat with a grin—“is home.”
Sebastian raised his brows in surprise.
“As in the State or where you actually grew up?” Donnelly blinked awake from where she slumped next to Grady and leaned forward for a better look out the window.
“Where I grew up.”
Sebastian looked around with renewed interest. Wow. This place was right out of a Taylor Sheridan television series—all weathered wood and rustic charm.
“Here’s me thinking you crawled out of the gutter.” Donnelly grinned as her barb landed on her fellow operator.
Sebastian yawned widely. “That would be me.”
Donnelly snorted. “Me too.”
She high-fived him.
She yawned too. It was catching. They’d all attempted to sleep on the flight, but they didn’t travel in a private jet as portrayed on TV.
It was more like a military cargo plane full of gear, including helicopters and Suburbans, with them strapped into seats at the side of the aircraft, headphones on to avoid the godawful noise of the engines.
Sebastian climbed out of the SUV and shivered as the wickedly cold mountain air took his breath. The sting of it slapped his face and vanquished the tiredness. Didn’t matter how little sleep they’d gotten, they had a job to do.
“I’m going to check in with the family real quick, thank them for hosting the dog and pony show, then meet you in the old barn.” Cowboy pointed to a large red barn then turned to jog toward the ranch house where the silhouette of a man and woman stood framed in the doorway.
Sebastian grunted and made his way across the frozen ground toward the man-sized insert in the big barn door.
Inside, Novak had already set up a command station and was doling out instructions.
His pretty fiancée, Charlotte Blood, stood by his side—a kickass negotiator who’d somehow talked her way past the big man’s armor.
Eban Winters—another FBI negotiator and childhood friend of Ryan’s if Sebastian remembered correctly—conferred with a profiler from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who stood with his hands on his hips and an impatient look on his face. Sebastian didn’t know the guy.
It reminded Sebastian of another mission late last year and the fact they needed to prepare for this situation to go downhill and turn into a standoff.
Novak looked up from where he’d spread a large map over a door laid across a couple of sawhorses. Jerked his head to indicate Sebastian join him.
He strode over.
“I plan to split the team into four groups of five operators in the field,” Novak told him. “Two snipers per group. FNGs spread out among each. I want you leading Alpha Squad. Pick your people.”
FNGs were the “fucking new guys.” Inexperienced in terms of the Hostage Rescue Team, but highly trained and excellent FBI agents.
“I’ll take Cas.” Sebastian named the operator who was his sniper team partner more often than not. There was no one he trusted more. “Ryan and Malik—”
“Malik isn’t here. Special assignment.”
Ryan was a no-brainer. He knew the area. “Ryan, Grady, and Meghan.”
“You’ll be working with a local SAR K9 team.” Novak pointed at a group of people who’d staged off to the left inside the barn’s large belly.
Sebastian grimaced. “We have Ryan to act as a guide. Give me Cadell instead.” Ford Cadell was partnered with Gold Team’s K9, Hugo, a Belgian Malinois who was a machine when it came to taking down bad guys.
Novak shook his head. “Hugo isn’t search certified. We’ll use him for apprehension if appropriate, but first we need to find this guy, and with bad weather on the way, we need all the help we can get.”
They exchanged a look.
Sebastian knew a nine-year-old girl was missing, presumed kidnapped by her father.
He stared at the vast wilderness on the map in frustration.
It was possible the guy had stolen a car and headed for Mexico.
Finding the sonofabitch was going to take every resource the FBI could muster, but he hated to put civilians at risk.
Appeared as if they didn’t have a choice at this stage.
Novak divvied up the other teams and turned to address the local sheriff.
A group of tired-looking people in cold weather gear burst through the door and went straight to where the SAR people stood, availing themselves of a big vat of coffee.
They each wrapped their hands around warm mugs and hustled over to stand before one of the massive electric heaters that had been set up at one end of the barn.
A tall blonde wearing a green Gore-Tex jacket, black leggings, and a black watch cap finished her drink and made her way confidently toward the table where he stood next to Novak.
The sheriff greeted her as if they were old friends.
She held out her hand to Novak.
“Apologies for not being in uniform. I’m off-duty, and we’ve just come off a successful rescue. Ranger Deacon. NPS law enforcement for Glacier National Park. I’m also part of the K9 SAR unit for this area.”
National Park Service.
So not a civilian then, but a distraction. That was for sure.
She held out her hand to him almost in challenge. He shook it, met her questioning blue-eyed gaze.
His fingers tightened. No, not blue. More violet.
He cocked his head. He’d never seen that color in real life before.
Thankfully, she didn’t notice him staring at her like an idiot as she let go and eyed the map with a frown. “What do we have?”
“Appreciate you coming, Ranger Deacon.” Novak checked his watch. “Sheriff planned to brief everyone on the situation in a couple of minutes. It’ll be easier to do it all at once.”
Her brows pinched together as doubt filled her expression. “Well, we should hurry. Snow is forecast for the area. I’d advise getting the K9s out ASAP before conditions become impossible to navigate and we lose the scent.”
Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest. They knew how to do their jobs. “It’s more complicated than a missing hiker.”
She blinked, and her expression went carefully blank. “Yeah, I gathered that, as we deal with missing hikers without any assistance from the FBI on a regular basis.” She turned back to Novak. “The longer we wait, the colder the trail goes.”
Sebastian blew out a long, frustrated breath.
Novak sent him a glance. “We’ll keep that in mind.”
“Okay,” she said. “I guess the FBI is in charge now.”
Didn’t sound like a ringing endorsement.
“Give us five minutes, and we’ll get everyone up to speed and organize the search teams,” Novak assured the woman.
She nodded as if satisfied she’d made her case and headed back to her corner with the SAR people.
Ryan entered the barn with a deputy and a taller, older man who bore a startling resemblance to his teammate, except where Ryan’s hair was dark, this newcomer’s was blond.
His brother?
Had to be.
Ryan had talked about the guy a lot over the years. Idolized him even. It would be good to finally meet the man behind the legend.
The sheriff stepped up onto a box and raised his hand to get everyone’s attention.
Finally.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming on such short notice. This is a serious situation. We have a murder suspect on the run and we believe he has his nine-year-old daughter with him.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ranger Deacon’s gaze snap toward the sheriff.
“What we know so far is this: Late yesterday afternoon, Michelle Eastman and her new boyfriend, Doug Bremner, were found dead in her bed. Shotgun wounds.”
A deputy handed out printouts. “Crime scene appears to have been staged to make it look like a murder-suicide. The amount of blood outside in the snow convinced the Medical Examiner foul play was involved.”
The sheriff’s gaze drifted across the crowd.
“Detectives initially questioned a rival motorcycle gang, as Bremner is associated with a local gang, but they denied involvement. With a child potentially at risk, Michelle’s cell records were rushed and show that her phone was used to text her daughter’s teacher yesterday and inform the school that her ex, the child’s father, would do the pickup that day—and also that the child would be out of school for a couple of days.
This leads us to consider Glenn Eastman—Michelle’s ex, Summer’s father—as our primary suspect. ”
“No shit, Sherlock,” muttered Ryan from beside him.
Sebastian glanced at Ranger Deacon. Her arms were crossed, and her foot tapped impatiently. Then her gaze met his, and she stilled, as if realizing all her nonverbal tells were on clear display to anyone paying enough attention.
“Eastman was last spotted in Stone Creek picking up his daughter from school, followed by a trip to the local fast-food restaurant. He’s not at home, and we can’t locate his cell phone signal or his truck—a burgundy Ford F150.
No cameras in town except the one at the bank’s ATM, and that didn’t show anything, although we know he made a large cash withdrawal that afternoon also. ”