Panic

13

Carrie was safe.

Thugs trying to act like government agents, Carrie had said. Was it really the FBI? Or could it be the CIA, looking for him? How would they know about him, about his parents and their connection to these damnable files? It didn’t make sense to him, but nothing did this morning. What mattered was Carrie was safe and sound. He would have to resist the urge to hear her voice and keep her at arm’s length, clear of this nightmare.

I find you and lose you, all at once, he thought. But just until he could find his dad, find out the truth of what had happened to his family. Then they could be together.

He went back to the bedroom where Gabriel was chained. Now Gabriel was sitting close to the headboard.

‘My girlfriend said the FBI was looking for me yesterday morning.’

‘Quite possibly,’ Gabriel said. ‘What do you want me to do about it?’

‘She didn’t believe they were real FBI. Could they have been CIA? You pull in my mom in Austin, they pull me in Houston.’

‘If they wanted you, they would have grabbed you earlier and taken you. I don’t know who it was. Sorry.’ Gabriel rattled the chain. ‘Are you leaving me here?’

‘I don’t know yet.’ Evan locked Gabriel in the bedroom. He hurried down the hall. Gabriel could be lying about not having help, the CIA or any friends of Gabriel’s could arrive at any moment. He ran into Gabriel’s bedroom. Opened the first suitcase. A few clothes. A lot of cash. Enough to make Evan stare. Neatly bound bricks of twenties and hundreds. No ID in the bag, but the luggage tag read J. GABRIEL. and an address in McKinney, a suburb of Dallas.

He searched Gabriel’s other bag. A few clothes, two guns, neatly oiled and disassembled. He dumped the gun pieces in with the cash. In the corner he spotted a small metal box.

He tried opening it. Locked. Locked meant important. He needed tools to crack it open. He dumped his damaged laptop into the suitcase with the cash. Ran downstairs to the garage. He loaded the bag into the rear of the Suburban, clearing out space. He hurried back inside and retrieved the small locked box, put it inside his duffel bag, went back down to the garage, and stuck the duffel in the passenger seat.

He went back upstairs. Getting Gabriel downstairs in the handcuffs would not be easy. He would stick Gabriel in the back of the SUV, hit the road, and call Durless. He thought Durless would listen. He was probably mortified and furious at losing Evan, and then losing the case to the FBI. Evan would give him a chance to save face.

He unlocked the door and walked into the bedroom.

The bed was empty. The handcuff dangled from the bed frame. The drapes danced in the breeze allowed by the open window.

Evan ran downstairs. His own breathing, panicked, filled his ears. CNN warbled in the den. He opened the door leading to the garage. Ducked inside. No sign of Gabriel. He edged in the dimly lit garage over to the Suburban.

Where the hell was Gabriel?

The garage door powered upward in sudden motion.