Chapter 9 - The Man at the Cabin
Nobody moved.
The gunman’s eyes stayed on the pouch.
“Slide it across the floor.”
Hsu lifted his hands. “You don’t want to do this.”
The man laughed once. “You people always say that.”
Mason shifted half an inch.
The gun moved toward him.
“General, don’t.”
My blood went cold.
He knew Mason’s rank.
He knew enough to be dangerous.
“Where is Sienna?” I asked.
“Alive.”
“Prove it.”
He pulled out a phone with his free hand and tapped the screen.
A video played.
Sienna was tied to a chair in what looked like an unfinished room.
Her makeup was smeared. Her eyes were swollen from crying.
“Olivia,” she said into the camera. “Please. Just give them what they want.”
A voice off-screen asked, “And whose fault is this?”
Sienna looked down.
“Mine.”
The video ended.
The man held out his hand.
“Now the pouch.”
Dad’s letter echoed in my head.
Trust no threat that arrives without proof.
The video was proof Sienna had been held.
But it was not proof she was being held now.
I looked carefully at the screen.
A digital clock behind her read 2:14.
The date display was yesterday.
I met Hsu’s eyes.
He had seen it too.
I bent slowly toward the pouch.
“Good,” the gunman said.
I picked it up.
Then threw it sideways.
Not toward him.
Toward the fireplace.
His eyes followed it.
That was enough.
Hsu moved.
Mason slammed the gunman’s wrist into the doorframe.
The weapon fired once into the ceiling.
I drove my shoulder into the man’s ribs.
He hit the floor hard.
Hsu kicked the gun away.
Ten seconds later, the man was handcuffed.
My ears rang from the shot.
Mason grabbed my shoulders.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“You threw federal evidence at a fireplace.”
“It was sealed.”
“That is not the point.”
“It worked.”
He closed his eyes for one second.
“I am marrying a problem.”
“Too late to back out.”
Hsu searched the gunman.
His wallet held a driver’s license under the name Eric Vale.
His phone held no contacts, only encrypted messaging apps.
But in his jacket pocket was a folded receipt.
A motel thirty miles away.
Room 214.
The same number shown on the clock in Sienna’s video.
We drove there with local tactical officers.
Room 214 was empty.
Ropes lay on the floor.
A camera faced a chair.
And on the bed was Sienna’s red engagement-party dress, cut down the back.
I turned away.
Then Hsu called from the bathroom.
“Olivia.”
May you like
Written across the mirror in red lipstick were seven words.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHO SHE CALLED FIRST.
