In Harm's Way (Heroes of Quantico Series, Book 3) (32 page)

"It's being retrieved as we speak. Kurt's on it. I told him to
call you with updates"

"I'm out of here" Turning away, he began stripping off his gear as he headed back to the front room. A hand on his arm
stopped him, and he looked over his shoulder.

"Want some company?"

"Yeah. If you're up for it after all this:" He gestured around
the apartment.

"I'm up for it. Consider it a return favor for a late-night hospital vigil last summer"

Neither man would forget the night Emily had come within
minutes of losing her life. Nor the fact that Nick had stuck with
Mark through the long, dark hours.

"Thanks." Nick took a deep breath. "We need to get the county
K-9 unit on standby too"

With a nod, Mark pulled out his BlackBerry. "Give me five
minutes to wrap things up here and talk to Steve. Is your car
at the TOC?"

"Yes"

"We'll take yours, then. I bummed a ride to the call-out"

Fifteen minutes later, after huddling with Steve at the tactical
operations center to discuss next steps and exchanging their
black SWAT team fatigues for jeans, Nick and Mark headed
toward Nick's car.

As they approached it, Nick's BlackBerry began to vibrate.
He pulled it off his belt and tossed the car keys to Mark. "You
drive, okay?"

"We've got some interesting video," Kurt said in response
to Nick's clipped greeting. "The victim was approached on the
parking lot near her car. It appears the assailant had a weapon,
but the clip is too grainy for us to verify that without enhancement. We also can't tell whether it was a man or a woman. A
couple of minutes later they walked off the parking lot and out
of range of the security cameras:"

Never in his professional career had Nick panicked. Yet he
was close to it now.

"You there, Nick?"

Kurt's question helped him regain his balance. He slid into
the car. Closed the door. "Yeah. I'm here"

"We need to pull in K-9:'

"They're on standby"

"Okay. I'll put in a call. Can we get our hands on some clothing from the victim?"

"I'll take care of that and meet you at the hotel. Give us half
an hour" He jabbed the end button.

As Mark pointed the car toward the highway, he shot Nick
a look. "News?"

"Yeah" Nick tried to swallow past his fear. Failed. "Someone
abducted Rachel in the hotel parking lot. We need to swing by
her house and pick up some items for the K-9 unit"

"You have a key?"

"No. But she mentioned once that she keeps one under the
birdbath in her backyard"

They were treading on tricky legal ground by entering Rachel's house. Nick knew that, and was glad Mark didn't make an
issue of it. The paperwork and red tape to "legalize" their entry
would take time they might not have. Besides, Rachel had told
him once that the key was for emergencies.

He figured this qualified.

At her house, Nick didn't waste a second as he went about
his task in a methodical, efficient manner. He tried not to picture her warm, intelligent eyes and the auburn highlights in her
hair as he stripped the case off her pillow. Tried to ignore the
faint floral scent that was all Rachel as he grabbed a few pieces
of clothing from drawers and closets. Tried not to remember
their impromptu Valentine's dinner as he stowed the items in a
plastic bag he found in her kitchen from the Italian restaurant
that had supplied their entree that night.

Most of all, he tried to stop the parade of grisly scenarios
parading through his brain.

But he couldn't stop the tremors that shook his hands.

And as he rejoined Mark in the car and they sped toward the
hotel, Nick sent another silent plea heavenward.

Please, Lord, keep Rachel safe until we find her.

The darkness was absolute.

The cold was brutal.

The throbbing pain in her head was excruciating.

But she was alive.

For now.

Fighting her way back to consciousness, Rachel tried to take
inventory and get her bearings.

She was lying on what felt like a hard-packed dirt floor. Her
shaking fingers confirmed that with a quick exploration of the
uneven, textured surface. She must be in the small shed she'd
noticed in the clearing.

And the handcuffs were gone. That was good news. But her
coat was missing too.

Relief gave way to renewed panic.

With temperatures in the teens and slated to fall into the single digits before a new day dawned, she doubted she would survive the night without her coat. She had to find a way out.

On her hands and knees, Rachel explored the small space.
Eight-by-ten, she estimated. Empty except for a small, sharp
rock in one corner. Her coat and shoes had vanished.

Using the wall for support, Rachel pulled herself to her feet,
trying to maintain her balance. Even without the blow to her
head, her equilibrium would be off in the disorienting, silent
darkness. Nevertheless, she worked her way around the walls,
every inch of her body aching, her throat raw as she swallowed.
The structure seemed to be constructed of concrete blocks. No windows. One heavy wooden door that gave slightly but was
obviously locked.

A wave of despair swept over her, but she wrestled it into
submission. She should be grateful. The woman could have killed
her. This was a reprieve. Another chance to escape.

If she didn't panic.

If she didn't die of hypothermia first.

She had to find a way to stay warm until Nick found her. And
he would. She knew that with absolute conviction.

What she didn't know was if he would arrive in time.

But she would do her part. She would buy herself every possible minute.

Shivers convulsed her, and she wrapped her arms around her
body, trying to conserve warmth. Shivering was good, though.
Hadn't she read somewhere once that shivering increased heat
production? For a while, anyway.

The important thing was to keep moving. Stay active. Not
enough to break a sweat, however. She seemed to recall that
there was a connection between dehydration and hypothermia.
But active enough to generate some heat.

And while she was generating heat, she might as well do it
in some activity that would also help her get out of this icebox.
So ... okay ... maybe she could work on the door hinges with
the sharp rock she'd felt on the floor. Perhaps dig out the wood
around the plates, loosen them. Yes, that was good. It was a
plan. And plans kept you focused.

As Rachel eased down again to her hands and knees to search
for the rock, the cross around her neck swung forward. Sitting
back on her heels, she gripped it in her cold fingers and tried
to recall the Bible verse the minister had preached on-was it
only this morning? It seemed days ago. It had been a message
about God being a person's rock and salvation. About how he
was the soul's source of rest and hope. And that if you believed
in him, you wouldn't be disturbed.

Nick believed. And it showed in his demeanor. He projected
a quiet, inner peace, a confidence about his place in the world.
It was clear he was comfortable with himself and his relationship with God.

Another shiver convulsed her. Perhaps she should follow his
example. Put her trust in God. She would do her best to find a
way out of this. That was her nature. Besides, wasn't there an old
adage about God helping those who help themselves? But if she
tried and failed, she needed to accept that as God's will.

And be grateful he'd graced her life with a wonderful man
and a newfound sister, if only for a short time.

"Is that a shiver, honey? Want me to crank up the heater?"

Rebecca turned up the collar of her coat and stuck her hands
in the pockets, twisting around to check on Bridget, who was
asleep in her car seat. Despite the toasty air, she felt chilled to
the bone.

"No, that's okay. How much longer to St. Louis?"

"About an hour. Want to stop and get some food?"

"No. I'm too nervous to eat:"

"I'm sure the FBI will walk us through what to expect at the
press conference tomorrow"

"I'm not worried about that"

"Then what's wrong?"

Rebecca stared out the car window into the darkness. "I don't
know:"

"Maybe it's stress. And lack of sleep. These past few weeks
have been rough"

"No. This just started. About the time we left home" Another
shiver rippled through her and she fidgeted in her seat. "I think
I'll call Rachel."

Silence fell as Rebecca dug her cell phone out of her purse and
tapped in Rachel's number. Already, she knew it by heart.

After four rings, the answering machine kicked in.

Another shiver swept over her.

Followed by another surge of uneasiness.

And then she knew.

"Colin. . " Panic tightened her voice. "Rachel's in trouble. I
have to call Nick:"

She could feel Colin's scrutiny in the dark as she fumbled for
her purse and groped inside for Nick's card.

"Honey ... are you sure? It's Sunday night"

"Yes. I told you what Rachel and I talked about the night we met.
I had headaches and limped as a child when she was going through
surgery for injuries from the accident. Rachel, who never gets sick,
had to take off work with what she thought was an intestinal bug
both days I was in labor with the girls. She's been unsettled since
the day Megan was kidnapped. We have some kind of connection,
Colin. I can't explain it, but it's real. I know she's in danger."

"Okay. Then go ahead and call Nick"

Rebecca lifted the phone to her ear. "I already did"

The dead-end street where Rachel had disappeared lived up
to that description. Nick raked his fingers through his hair in
disgust and surveyed the upscale lane of stately brick homes.
The FBI's investigation had yielded nothing. The K-9 unit had
picked up Rachel's scent and led them to the end of the street,
but the trail ended there. More agents had shown up, and they'd
canvassed the neighborhood, assisted by the local police. They'd
drawn a zero too. None of the residents had seen or heard a
thing. The Evidence Response Team was on-site, but to the
naked eye there was little to recover. And if any trace evidence was discovered, the analysis wouldn't happen fast enough to
help them find Rachel.

Alive, anyway.

The knot in his gut tightened.

Lord, please give us a break here.

"Ellen's here" Mark passed on the news as he joined them.

"Is the press already on this?"

"Yeah. And one of them talked to the doorman, who mentioned Rachel's name. Now that there's a link to the kidnapping,
they're all over this. Ellen's polishing the formal comments that
were supposed to be given tomorrow. Marty talked to Chicago,
and they agreed we should move on this tonight, in light of the
new development. The SAC up there is going to hold a press
conference at the same time and read the same statement. My
guess is Rachel's photo will be all over the ten o'clock news"

Good. Now that Rachel had been snatched, there was no
point in waiting to reveal the connection between Rachel and
Rebecca. They needed leads. Fast. If Rachel's picture was circulated, maybe someone who'd seen her would call.