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Chapter 46

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Samantha stared as the man and his partner jogged away. They crossed the street to a parking lot in front of a dark building, climbed into a small silver SUV, and took off.

That was the car that had been behind them earlier. How long had they been following? Who were they?

The sound of sirens had her standing too fast. Her legs still felt like jelly, but she managed to keep her feet.

She couldn't get caught up in this. She had to get out of here, to figure out what to do next. She wouldn't look at the dead man. She jogged to her car, climbed in, and crept out of the lot.

Less than a quarter mile away, a police car passed her going the opposite direction, its lights spinning. She continued straight, prayed she wouldn't get pulled over.

She stopped at a red light and caught sight of the man's phone. He'd left it on her console.

She pressed the button, swiped to open it. There was a passcode. She'd broken into enough iPhones to know how to get past that. It was a skill that had come in handy when she'd worked for the town. The cops had come to her often enough for help, usually trying to return a stolen or lost phone to its owner.

She held down the home button, waited for the beep, and said, "What time is it?"

The clock came up.

A few more steps, and...

Bingo.

She was in.

She dialed Brady's number and pressed the gas.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Brady Thomas." He sounded like he'd been asleep. Made sense. It was nearly midnight.

"It's Sam."

He cleared his throat. "What happened? Whose phone is this?"

"Long story. Garrison and...I..." The words halted. A sob bubbled up, and she started to tremble. She pulled over, took a deep breath.

Through the phone, she heard Brady speaking to Rae. "I don't know yet. Something's wrong." Then he spoke to her again. "Sam, what happened?"

She took another breath, swallowed the rising nausea. How could she even explain it? What would she say? Where should she start?

"I just witnessed a murder."

"What? Where are you?"

"You have to be quiet and let me talk. I was with a man, and he was shot. The killers were..." She started to say African American, but stopped herself. They'd both had accents, so they weren't American at all. "They were black. I only saw one from the front. He had darker skin than any man I've ever seen. And a scar on his neck. I don't know how old he was, or how tall." She explained where the auto body shop was and the type of car they were driving.

"You need to call the Manchester PD."

"Garrison and Aiden are being held captive."

Brady had on his detective voice when he spoke next. "Start at the beginning."

"First, call the police in Manchester so those guys don't get away."

A short pause. Then, "Fine. Hold on a sec."

She heard him speaking on another phone, Rae's, no doubt. He relayed the information she'd given him, claiming he'd received an anonymous tip. He came back on the line.

"You'll tell them the truth tomorrow. Now, tell me what's going on."

She pulled back onto the nearly deserted street. For the next ten minutes, she relayed all that had happened—leaving out the place where Garrison and the rest were being held—and ended with the murder.

"Tell me where they are."

"We have to figure out how to rescue them."

"That's my job, Sam."

"No. No. Look, I need your help, but if I don't go back there, he'll kill them. He was very explicit."

"He had to say that so you wouldn't try to escape."

She turned onto Route 101. "That doesn't mean he won't do it. I'm not going to risk anybody's life to protect my own."

There was a long pause. His voice was quieter, the voice of a friend, when he spoke next. "Sam, Garrison won't want you to risk your life to save him."

"Not him, no." She knew that. But Aiden. Garrison would do anything for his son.

"Not any of them," Brady said. "And you're too important to me, to Rae, to all your friends. I can't let you step into harm's way."

"You can't stop me. Either help me figure out how to do this, or I'm going to hang up."

"You have to trust me. This is what I do."

"I know. That's why I'm calling. But you can't guarantee anything."

"Neither can you."

"I can do something, though. I can get in the door, or maybe..."

Yes, that was it. She had to make the man believe she had the package. It was her only leverage.

"Samantha, tell me where you are, and we'll figure this out together."

She couldn't do it alone. She'd need Brady's help.

"Here's the deal, Brady. I'll meet you, and you can help me formulate a plan. But you have to promise me you're not going to charge in there, and you're not going to try to negotiate for their release. This guy...I don't think he'll hesitate to start killing people. And he's already pegged Garrison as his biggest threat. The first bullet will be for Garrison."

* * *

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SAM SPIED BRADY IN front of McNeal's, leaning against his pickup truck and tapping his foot. She parked behind him and shoved the man's phone in her pocket. By the time she stepped out of the car, Brady was there.

He pulled her into a bear hug and held her tight. When he finally let her go, he shook her shoulders. "I can't decide if I'm happy to see you or ticked you're being so stubborn about this."

"Let's go with happy to see me."

"How are you holding up? You went to Manchester alone...at night."

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. "Wait. You know?"

"That you never leave Nutfield?"

"How long have you known?"

Brady shook his head. "Sheesh, Sam. We've been friends forever. You think I didn't notice? I am a detective, you know."

"But...you never said anything."

He shrugged. "Figured if you wanted to talk about it—"

"Does Rae know?"

"Why do you think we had our reception at the Lion's Hall?"

Sam had believed Rae's reasoning. "I...but... She should've..."

"She wanted you to be there. And she didn't want you to be afraid. And it didn't matter to us, as long as we were married. We love you, Sam. Which is why I can't let you do this."

She'd told him her idea while she'd driven here, and he'd spent as much time arguing about why it wouldn't work as she'd spent explaining it.

"This is the best way to assure that at least the teens survive. And if I can get his focus on the front of the cabin—"

"They're at a cabin? The one where Garrison's been staying?"

She hadn't meant to say that.

"Which one is it?" When she didn't respond, he said, "I'll call Rae. She probably knows."

"No, it's okay. I'll tell you, if you hear me out."

"I'm not letting you put yourself in danger."

"There are kids in there, Brady. Two teenage boys."

"I understand that."

"What if it were Johnny?"

"It was Johnny!" His words reverberated off the downtown buildings. He took a breath. "Johnny and Rae were in danger, and I had about twenty guys with me."

True. And Sam had thought Rae was crazy to put herself in danger like she had. Now, Sam understood. "You had a plan."

"And Rae didn't trust me and could have gotten herself killed."

"I trust you, Brady. You tell me how we can do this, and I'll do everything you say. I promise."

Brady crossed his arms, stepped back. "Okay." He stared at the police station across the street. "Okay. I'll call the guys."

"Not the whole town. It's quiet out there."

"Which cabin?"

She waffled, but in the end, she had to tell him. Had to trust him. Because there was no way Sam could do this alone.

The man's phone dinged.

A text message from a man named Lionel.

You got the package?

She scrolled up to read the other messages. Nothing too telling. She paused on one from the other man, sent just forty-five minutes before, and sucked in a breath.

Take care of her as soon as you get the package.

"What?" Brady said. "Let me see."

She showed the screen to Brady.

"Seems this Lionel guy doesn't plan to leave anyone alive."

"He looked like a Lionel. Didn't look dangerous. Which was maybe the scariest thing about him." She scrolled back to the latest message. "Should I respond?"

"Yeah." He took the phone, paused, and then typed into it. He showed her the screen. Just now. On my way.

"Sounds right." He hit send. "Maybe we can use this."

Brady looked at the phone, at her. "Eventually, he's going to know his man is down. The question is, how is he going to take it?"