Chapter 6 - THE WAITRESS WASN’T RUNNING AWAY—SHE WAS BEING DELIVERED
“Don’t move,” the man behind Mia called.
I stopped.
Cole reached for his gun.
“Sheriff,” the man said, “you know better.”
Cole’s hand froze.
That told me more than any confession.
“You know him,” I said.
Cole didn’t answer.
The gunman smiled.
“Everybody knows everybody in Ash Creek.”
Rex stood beside my leg.
Focused.
Waiting.
The pickup’s driver kept the engine running.
Two men sat in front. One behind Mia.
Bad odds.
Not impossible.
But Mia had a gun against her head.
“You want me?” I asked.
The gunman nodded.
“Warehouse Nine. Midnight.”
“What’s in Warehouse Nine?”
“You.”
He laughed.
“At least if you care about the girl.”
Mia’s eyes met mine.
She shook her head almost invisibly.
Don’t come.
The gunman shoved her down.
The truck peeled away.
Cole watched the taillights disappear.
“Warehouse Nine is at the old rail yard.”
“You’ve been there?”
“No.”
“You hesitated.”
He swore under his breath.
“Years ago.”
“For the Vipers?”
His eyes flashed.
“For my daughter.”
I stepped closer.
“What does that mean?”
“It means this town is complicated.”
“A kidnapped waitress isn’t complicated.”
“You think Mia’s the first?”
That stopped me.
Cole looked toward the ground.
“Her sister Lauren vanished fourteen months ago.”
“Mia thinks the Vipers took her?”
“She knows they did.”
“And you did nothing?”
Cole’s face hardened.
“Careful.”
“No. You be careful.”
Rex growled again.
Cole looked at him, then at me.
“They took my daughter first.”
Silence.
“She was seventeen,” he continued. “They sent me a picture every month for six months. Told me which reports to lose. Which traffic stops to ignore. Which names never to enter into the system.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.”
His voice broke on the last word.
For the first time, he didn’t look like a corrupt sheriff.
He looked like a father who had been dying slowly.
My anger didn’t disappear.
But it changed shape.
“Midnight,” I said. “We go together.”
“No.”
“Then I go alone.”
Cole stared at Rex.
Finally he nodded.
We reached the rail yard at 11:42.
Warehouse Nine looked abandoned from the outside.
Inside, Rex found fresh tire tracks, cigarette ash, and a hidden door behind a row of empty pallets.
Cole forced the latch.
Cold air rolled up from below.
A concrete staircase descended into darkness.
On the first landing, I found six metal dog tags nailed to the wall.
Military working dog tags.
The last tag carried a name I knew.
REX — K9-417.
My dog was standing beside me.
So why was his tag already hanging inside a secret bunker beneath a biker warehouse?
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