“My plan?” Brantley glanced in his rearview mirror, looking at the car following him, the sun glinting off the windshield kept him from seeing Baz’s face. “You’re the detective.”
“And you’re runnin’ point on this,” Baz countered, his voice coming through the truck’s speakers. “Not to mention, you ran right over me when I suggested we wait.”
“No reason to wait,” he argued. If there was a remote possibility that Corinne was at this location, Brantley was going to find her. The longer they waited, the better chance Dugan had to relocate her.
“Again,” Baz said, his voice tight, “what’s your plan?”
“Let’s scope it out first,” he told the detective. “Then we’ll formulate one.”
“Great. You’re one of those guys. Fly by the seat of your pants, hope for a soft landing.”
Reese chuckled, drawing Brantley’s attention.
“He’s right.”
Brantley turned his attention back to the road. “Just keep up, Buchanan. Or I’m gonna leave your ass behind.”
He disconnected the call as they turned onto the highway that would lead them out to the sticks.
“You think she’s still alive?”
“I do.”
“Because he’s kept women before?”
“Yeah.” That basement cell in Dugan’s house was proof that the man kept women. As for how long, he had no idea. But he had to hope that Dugan had spent too much time on the run in the past few days to have disposed of Corinne. He would much rather think she was chained up in some basement than…
No, he wouldn’t think about it. The idea was horrific even if it was better than thinking she was in a shallow grave.
They were going to find Corinne Greenwood and they were going to bring her home.
“You armed?” Brantley asked Reese.
“Of course.”
“Good.”
“You have a plan, don’t you?”
Brantley glanced over. “If Dugan so much as tries to hurt her, shoot him. That’s my plan.”
“You are the type who likes to get right to the point.”
There was amusement in Reese’s tone and Brantley appreciated it even if he couldn’t laugh. Right now, the situation was bearing down on him and the only thing he could do was focus on getting Corinne home. He hoped like hell they could find some closure for Lauren Tyler, because yes, he did believe these two were connected, but that was secondary.
Brantley hit the button to dial JJ.
When she answered, he bypassed pleasantries. “Tell me you’ve got some information on the house. Floor plan, at least.”
“Both the interior and the property,” she confirmed. “Single-story ranch. Twelve hundred square feet. From the most updated map, it looks like there’s a storage building on the property along with a separate two-car garage, both relatively close to the house. Kitchen’s on the right, along with dining. Center of the house looks to be the living room. Left side has two bedrooms and one bathroom.”
“And the basement?”
“There’s no records of square footage or anything like that, only that it has one. Or at least it did when the last owners sold it because they mentioned it in the listing.”
“If Corinne’s there, she’s in the basement,” Brantley stated. “Do we know if Dugan’s there?”
“No idea,” JJ said. “We have no eyes nearby.”
“Since he’s hidin’ out, callin’ in sick, it’s probably safe to assume he is,” Reese added.
Brantley sure as hell hoped so, because he had every intention of resolving this today.
Forty-five minutes later, Brantley was leading the way through an outcropping of trees. Rather than pull up to the house, they had avoided his street altogether and parked on a road running parallel so as not to alert Dugan to their presence. Now they were trekking through dense underbrush, making their way toward the house where Dugan was hopefully holed up.
“You bypassin’ a lot of red tape here?” Reese asked Baz.
“The whole fucking roll,” Baz answered. “I didn’t even bother callin’ my sergeant. Figured since the governor gave y’all the green light, I’m just along for the ride.”
“Until it’s time to make the arrest,” Brantley noted. “That’s your job. Not mine.”
“Copy that.”
“You military?” Reese inquired.
“No. My older brother was. Marine. Died in Afghanistan.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Reese said softly.
Brantley kept his attention on the house although he was listening to the conversation.
“Hold up,” he bit out before they risked stepping out from their cover.
Both men went quiet, coming to stand on either side of him.
“That’s Dugan’s car,” Reese said. “I remember it from the coffee shop.”
Guy had good attention to detail.
“You know he could be in there with a whole harem of women, right?” Baz said. “We have no idea what we’ll encounter when we go through that door.”
The detective was right. They had no idea. Admittedly, Brantley was used to recon and intel. In the Teams, they’d had it in spades. Not that it was always accurate, but they usually had something to go on. Here, they were going in blind.
“Baz,” Brantley stated, “you take the north side. Reese, the south. Do what you can to get a look inside. Text me if you get a visual.”
