The Missing

it.

    Jillian—

    She pulled back and slid Cullen a glance before ducking inside, first one leg, then the other. She wobbled a little and ended up smacking her busted hand on the wall when she went to catch her balance. Pain streaked up her arm, and she just barely managed to keep from crying out. Biting down on her lip, she did her best to push the pain aside and focus on the situation at hand.

    It was hot in there. Dangerously so. The windows were closed, and although there was an AC unit in the back window, it wasn’t on. The air was close and tight, and there was a faint scent of something that set her teeth on edge.

    Taige felt a mad vibration on her hip, and she looked down at her cell phone. Moving to the door, she undid the series of locks before pulling her phone off the clip and reading the message. Jones. Impatient bastard. He was a good hour away still, according to the message, although there was a helicopter en route that would be there within thirty minutes.

    I plan on getting them out of here in less than ten, Taige thought grimly. Despite the heat in the room, she felt chilled, and the skin on the back of her neck was crawling. She opened the door to let Cullen in, and she stepped to the side as he came through the doorway, taking in the room with one quick glance.

    His mouth compressed down to a thin, tight line as he started for the door. Taige shoved the phone into her pocket and rushed to cut Cullen off. She hadn’t seen any kind of trap on the door earlier, but looking through the gray didn’t always allow for the clearest view, and she wasn’t going to take the chance that something nasty was waiting to happen if somebody opened the door unwittingly.

    She slammed a hand against Cullen’s chest and said, “Slow down.”

    He went to move her aside, and Taige shoved him. “Wait a damn minute, Cullen. Let me make sure it’s safe.”

    He looked down at her, and there were a few seconds when she wondered if he was really even aware of her as a person. He eyed her as though she was nothing more than an obstacle in his way. Even though she understood, it hurt. Softening her voice, she said, “Just let me check the door, okay?”

    There had been a case three years ago when a dad, a certified lunatic who was convinced the government was trying to brain-wash his wife, had killed her and then kidnapped his three kids. For three months, the guy had gone off the map. It wasn’t until after the mother’s body was found that Taige was brought in. She led Taylor’s unit to where the man was hiding his kids, but there had been a trap rigged to the door. When one of the agents opened it, bullets started flying. If it had been anybody other than a very cautious law enforcement agent, they would have needed some body bags.

    Taige still had some bad moments over that one, but it had taught her a very important lesson: people were fucking crazy.

    By the time she was satisfied the door was safe, several minutes had passed, and she could all but feel Cullen’s impatience as she wrapped her hand around the knob and turned it.

    Slowly. Easing it open an inch at a time and standing off to the side, just in case. It opened completely, and she felt her legs go watery as she saw Jillian lying on the cot, her face slack, her chest rising and falling. It was every bit as hot in the bathroom as it was in the main room, and a nasty, cold ball of fear settled in Taige’s belly as she saw the girl’s flushed red face.

    She started toward Jillian. Two steps, though, and she froze in place as screams started to echo through her head. Screaming voices, begging for help, begging for death; children begging for their mothers before their voices were forever silenced. A moan rattled up through her tight throat, but she wasn’t aware she’d made a sound. Bile churned in her gut, and she fell to her knees, vomiting on the floor.

    Her eyes were wide open, but it wasn’t the gleaming white tile she saw—or rather, it was, but the tile was covered in blood. Not streaked, but covered so that the white wasn’t even visible. Face after face flashed through her mind, and she could hear their voices.

    Help me . . .

    Don’t hurt me . . .

    I want my mommy.

    There was a laugh, ugly and monstrous. The man’s voice was distorted, and try as she might, Taige couldn’t see his face. She saw his hands, big and cruel-looking, rising and coming down. Taige flinched away as she felt their pain. So many—there were