Taken Hostage. Jordyn Redwood
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She dropped her hands and so did he before he made a gesture that might be misinterpreted.
“Many of her clothes are missing.”
Colby peered at the bottom of the closet. There was an empty basket. He didn’t see another clothes hamper. That meant the empty drawers would be a good indication of how much they’d taken.
“What’s left of her clothes? Are they still folded on the inside?” Colby asked.
“Yes, why?”
“It makes me think Polina packed the suitcase, then, and not the intruders just riffling through in a hurry to grab a few things to tide them over.”
“Then Polina should have clothes missing, as well?”
“Let’s check.”
Before leaving Olivia’s room, Colby peered out her window, which gave a front view of the street. The roads were empty. No signs of a vehicle he would consider suspicious for surveillance. Then again, why would they need to watch Regan when they controlled her by having the one thing she considered most precious?
Inside Polina’s room a different story had been written. Her suitcase remained in the closet. Her drawers appeared full. A small amount of clothing was in the laundry basket at the bottom of the bed.
“What do you think it means?” Regan asked.
Even though they both knew.
Things didn’t look good for Polina’s survivability.
“Let’s go back downstairs. Look at the note again. Develop our game plan.”
Once downstairs, Colby grabbed the note and sat on the couch. Regan sat next to him, peering over his shoulder as he examined the contents. Her closeness made it difficult to concentrate and he scooted a few inches away from her.
“First thing, we can’t operate out of your house. Once the hospital discovers the virus is gone, the cops are going to be on your tail.”
“It will probably be more than the local police,” Regan said.
Colby turned to Regan. “Meaning?”
“I think the hospital would potentially report it to Homeland Security.”
“It’s not a lethal virus. Right?”
“Right. But that doesn’t mean...”
“Mean what? It’s like there’s something you don’t want to say. Whatever you’re thinking, you need to say it. Keeping something hidden from me won’t help us solve this.”
“Viruses can always potentially be manipulated into something more virulent. Or, at least, someone could try.”
Colby’s chest tightened. That had to be it. Definitely a more plausible explanation than her rogue desperate parent theory. There was more there. He was sure of it. But for now, if that was all she was willing to disclose, he’d go with it.
What it meant? That their enemy could be that much more nefarious.
“We need to find a hotel somewhere close to this park. Scope it out tonight before the drop-off tomorrow.”
“I need to exchange these vials for something completely benign. I need to protect what’s here.”
“So you never intended to give it to them? Why take it?”
“Don’t you think it was wise to make them believe I was somewhat complying with their plan?”
“Probably.”
“However, if it comes down to Olivia’s life, I can’t say I won’t choose that path.”
Tears flowed down her cheeks, and this time he couldn’t help himself. He reached up and thumbed them off her face. Heat raced up his arm from that one touch. “Let’s not think worst-case scenario. Not yet. We need to keep our heads in the game.” Did he say that for her benefit?
Or more for his own?
“I know someone with a private lab who wouldn’t ask too many questions if I asked him to store it. He could at least give me something that resembled what’s in the cooler.”
“Vial wise or biologically, as well?”
“Both.”
She picked up her cell phone. Colby snatched it from her hand. “You can’t use this.” He powered it down. “And I probably shouldn’t use mine.”
“How would they know you’re helping me?”
“It’s not going to be a reach. I stormed out of the hospital saying I was going to look for you. We need to assume the authorities know we’re together—and that mind-set will hopefully prevent us from leaving clues behind. Do you have cash on hand?”
“Not much. A couple hundred dollars at most.”
At least Colby planned for such contingencies such as needing to be on the run or at least off grid for a period of time. “Don’t worry. I’ve got some additional resources we can tap into.”
A car door slammed. Both of them sat up straighter.
“Are you expecting someone?” Colby asked.
Regan shook her head.
Colby motioned her down onto the floor. He then army-crawled to the front window, lifted the lower edge of the curtain and peered out.
A nondescript black SUV. One man stood by it—dressed in tactical gear.
Not good.
He turned back to Regan. “We need to go, now.” His voice was low but with as much urgency as he could muster without yelling at her.
She scrambled toward the cooler and picked it up, grabbing her purse that sat next to it.
“Back door?” he whispered.
She motioned to the back of the house. They crawled to the door together. He looked through the window. Didn’t see anyone...not yet, at least. There was a wooded lot just beyond her property. That was where he’d hidden his motorcycle. Probably not the best mode of transportation but easy to conceal, which was why he’d chosen it—not imagining he’d be pulling Regan behind him for an escape. He merely hadn’t wanted her to see him coming.
“We need to run for those trees as fast as we can.”
He saw Regan glance down at her shoes. Modest high heels, but high heels nonetheless. He thought about asking her to take them off but she was likely comfortable in them and she’d need the barrier to keep her running across rocks and sticks. “You’ll be fine. Just keep your head low.”
He motioned her to the side, unlocked