Page 23 of Key Of Dreams
“Jesus,” I say in a harsh whisper.
“Get us an address on this guy,” Falcon orders. “We have less than forty-eight hours.”
Wire is furiously typing away. “On it.”
“I’m going to let Kailyn know it’s going to be an all-nighter.” Phoenix glances over at me. “I’ll tell her to check on Maya.”
“Thanks,” I mumble. I laid a heavy burden on Maya by telling her about Troy, and I saw the concern on her face. I’m beginning to kick my own ass for talking with her about it, but without her, we’d still be grasping at straws. Falcon’s been the one in contact with the parents. I don’t envy his position. Troy’s mother was crying uncontrollably on the phone, so loud that I could hear her from where I’m sitting.
It’s an hour later when Wire rushes back into the boardroom. “I got the fucker.” He pushes a paper into Falcon’s hand. “Here’s the address, but I got his phone records. For over three months, he was consistently getting calls from the same number. A month ago, it all stopped. That’s when I think they wised up and started using a burner. I tracked that original number, and it’s Franklin Porter’s. He’s Dan’s silent business partner.”
“He’s Dan’s business partner?” I ask. “Why the hell would he want to get into the building? He has a free pass.” This is all pointing to more questions than answers. Dan’s a solid guy. We looked into him, and he checked out clean. Franklin never came up, until now. How did we miss that?
“What’s important is that we get Troy back first,” Rebel states. “Where are we headed?” Rebel’s halfway out the door when Falcon calls his name.
“Rebel, calm down. We do this smart. Wire, keep digging. I want to know the tie between these two guys and any possible reason for breaching Franklin’s own company and turning on his partner. Phoenix and Rebel, you’re on Allen. Follow him wherever he goes. Bull, as soon as he leaves his place, if you see the opportunity, get in and search. With any luck, that’s where he’s holding Troy, but if not, we might find a clue as to where he’s keeping him,” Falcon says, quickly dispensing a plan and setting the wheels in motion.
* * *
The run-down house is falling apart. It looks like it’s being held together by duct tape and glue. Allen hasn’t left the house all night, and I’m tired of waiting. The house is utterly silent, except for the sound of snoring coming from the living room, where I see Allen conked out on a battered sofa that’s seen better days.
Not surprisingly, he’s asleep with a gun in his hand. That says it all. This guy is guilty as fuck! I test the floorboards. They creak slightly, but Allen is dead to the world, and I move as quietly as I can through the house. All the bedrooms are empty, but in one, I find a small mattress with a backpack. Troy was here, which means this guy knows where he is.
My instinct is to rush him, grab him by the throat until he gives me the kid’s location, but I don’t know enough about the guy to know whether he’d give that information up, even when threatened with death. Most do, but I’ve seen others die with their secrets, and I can’t risk that with Troy’s life hanging in the balance.
I see Allen’s phone on the coffee table on top of a pile of newspapers. I creep closer, holding Allen steady in my sight in case he wakes up. I pray to God this is the burner phone. I snatch it up, get the hell out through the back door, and go to Rebel and Phoenix.
“See if Wire can hack into this.” I give him the cell phone. Phoenix makes the call, and while we’re waiting, Rebel keeps his eyes glued to Allen’s house.
“He’s in. There’s a trail of messages. Wire’s scanning for a location where they might be keeping the kid,” Phoenix tells us.
The waiting is the worst. It’s always been my problem. I’m a man of action, and Falcon knows me best. That’s why he insisted I take up meditation. I wanted to tear my hair out the first time I did it, and it was only two minutes long. I’ve grown since then, and now I practice it every day. I hate to admit it, but I’m better because of it.
“There was a shitty mattress and Troy’s backpack in there. He had the kid. I’m good with beating the information out of him,” I grumble.
“Last resort,” Phoenix says.
“I’m with Bull,” Rebel says. “Fucker deserves to hang by his heels and suffer.”
Phoenix’s phone rings. “We’re all here,” he answers, then holds it out in his palm and hits Speaker.
Falcon’s voice is loud and clear. “There’s an old farmhouse on the outer edge of the city. It used to be farmland that was bought out by Dan’s business partner six months ago. Good hunch that they’ve got Troy there. We don’t know how many are involved, and we don’t want Allen to get away. You three get Allen and bring him back to the warehouse. He can be the inaugural felon in our cells in the basement. We’ll regroup and go get the kid.”
“What if—” Rebel begins.
“We’re not going in blind or alone. We do this together. We don’t have time to argue,” Falcon says, cutting the conversation short.
“Phoenix, take the front. Rebel, cover the back. I’m going in,” I tell them.
“Don’t lose your cool and shoot him. We might need him,” Rebel says with a smirk.
“I’ll try,” I grunt. As I slide through the back kitchen door, I see that Allen has hardly moved, but his hand remains on the gun on his chest. I make it over to him just as he shifts in his sleep. I press my hand over his, compressing his chest, locking the gun in place. I put my gun to his temple. “Go ahead, give me an excuse to end your miserable life.”
His eyes open wide, and he tries to move, but he’s weak, and I push down harder, making it more difficult for him to breathe. “What do you want?”
“You’re not that stupid.” I call out for Rebel and Phoenix. Both rush into the room, and we soon have Allen in handcuffs and in the back seat of Phoenix’s truck.
As I follow them in my own truck, I contemplate calling Maya. I decide against it. We’re not at the finish line yet, and when I make the call, I want it to be over. For the first time, I feel hopeful about finding Troy and getting him back to his parents.
