Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Henry
My leg bounced as I sat in my SUV in the parking lot of a rest stop along Alligator Alley, my gaze focused on my laptop.
At the red dot.
As Blake promised, the tracker’s signal remained strong, even as the miles between Ariana and me increased.
I’d spent the past hour watching as Mikhail and Tattoo drove her across the state.
I’d left my house shortly after they did, stopping at the rest stop approximately thirty miles from the drop location.
It was a risk to be here at all, but I couldn’t stay home.
I needed to be as close to Ariana as possible.
The time it would take me to get to her could have meant the difference between life and death.
So I parked at the rest stop, watching the red dot get farther and farther away. But it stopped moving over twenty minutes ago when Mikhail left her at the drop location.
And the more time that passed, the more concerned I was becoming that something had gone wrong.
“Something isn’t right,” I muttered.
“It’s okay,” Blake’s voice came over the line.
As much as I would have loved to have him here, he still wasn’t a hundred percent.
He didn’t want to become a liability or do anything that might interfere with my ability to get to Ariana in time.
Plus, it was good to have him at my house.
Or the command center, as he referred to it.
That way, once Ariana arrived wherever she was being taken, Blake would be able to pull up building schematics, aerial footage, and property information.
Anything and everything that could prove useful.
“The drop location is in the middle of a bunch of farmland. This guy obviously doesn’t want anyone to know who he is. He’s probably making sure the coast is clear.”
“For nearly a half-hour?” I shot back, my frustration growing with every damn second. I dug my fingers into my hair, tugging at the ends as my mind spun with dozens of different scenarios, each one worse than the last.
“What if he found the tracker and killed her? What if that’s why she’s not moving?” I struggled to swallow through the tightness in my throat at the mere thought. “What if she’s already dead?”
“She’s not,” Blake assured me. “You can’t think like that. I get this is probably the most difficult thing you’ve ever had to do. But you need to stay positive. For Ariana’s sake.”
I closed my eyes, trying to do exactly as Blake encouraged me to do. But it was so fucking hard.
“I should go,” I announced
“What do you mean?”
“To the drop point.”
“Give it a few more minutes. Like we’ve said repeatedly. This may be your one and only chance to bring Sarah home.”
“I know.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I just… I fucking hate this.”
“Just… Five more minutes.”
I parted my lips to argue that I didn’t think I had five more minutes in me when the dot started moving.
“We’ve got movement,” Blake announced excitedly.
I straightened in my seat, watching as the blinking dot moved from the dirt path Ariana had been left on, slowly at first. But eventually, she picked up speed.
“Heading west. Toward Naples.”
“On it,” I grunted, slamming my car into drive and peeling out of the rest stop.
“Keep your distance,” Blake cautioned me. “And don’t speed. Remember. Nothing to raise suspicion.”
“I’ll try my best.”
I kept Blake in my ear as I followed the signal along Alligator Alley and toward the west coast of Florida. But the signal eventually started moving north, remaining inland.
After another hour or so, the signal slowed. I squinted at my laptop monitor, but couldn’t make out where they were heading. It still seemed to be in another remote area of the state, nothing but farmland.
Finally, the tracker stopped moving for several long seconds.
“Give it a minute,” Blake stated, always one to err on the side of caution. “This might not be it.”
“Start pulling what you can, just in case.”
“Already on it,” he assured me.
I kept glancing between the road and the laptop in the passenger seat, a handful of minutes passing without any movement.
“I think this is it,” I finally announced.
“I think so, too.”
“What do you have?”
I heard the telltale sound of Blake’s fingers moving over the keyboard, each second feeling like a goddamn eternity.
“Looks like it’s a horse property.”
“Owner?”
“Pulling records now,” he said.
I gripped the steering wheel, needing something to anchor me when it felt like everything was spinning out of control.
“It’s owned by someone named Deacon Lawler. There’s over a thousand acres.”
“So no neighbors for miles,” I remarked.
“That’s what it looks like.”
“What’s his background?”
“Nothing, really. A few parking and speeding tickets. But…” He trailed off.
“What did you find?”
“Lawler died a few years ago. This property’s been on the market since then.”
“So it’s abandoned.”
“Probably,” Blake replied. “I could be wrong, but I don’t think real estate in the Florida swamp is exactly a hot market.”
“Right.”
“Abandoned horse property in the middle of nowhere, making it nearly impossible for anyone to realize something’s going on? Sounds like the perfect spot for whatever the fuck he’s doing.”
“I agree.” I stepped harder on the gas, no longer caring if I was breaking the speed limit. “What can you tell me about the property? Where’s Ariana?”
“Right now, depending on the accuracy of the tracker—”
“It’s fucking accurate. The margin of error is less than a foot.”
“It looks like she’s in the stables. West side of the property.”
“Send me everything you can. I’ll need to go in on foot, so the more I know about what I’m walking into, the better.”
“You got it, brother.”