Page 3 of Night Hawk
Toni let out a cry of distress.
“It’s all right.” He walked toward her. “The bucket is latched, and the vise will ensure it stays closed.”
She whimpered.
He’d seen people afraid, but this went beyond normal fear. Had she experienced a rattlesnake in her past? An experience that caused such an overwhelming phobia? If so, nothing could be worse for her than being stuck in the room with the snake.
But maybe he was wrong. Maybe the door wasn’t locked. He grabbed the knob. Shook the handle. The old wood held fast. He put his shoulder to it and shoved against it. Tried it a few times. Nothing. Not even a fraction of an inch in movement.
They were stuck for sure. But who’d lowered the bar on the door?
He looked at Toni. “Did you see who locked the door?”
She shook her head.
“Someone dropped the bar lock into place. Probably took off thinking we’d die in here.”
Her only response was a sharp intake of air.
“Does anyone know you’re here and will come looking for you if you don’t come home?”
She gave a single shake of her head. He grabbed the flashlight to do a thorough search.
“No!” Toni shouted, her breathing quickening. “The light. Please. Oh. Please. Keep the light on the bucket. I have to see.”
She’d totally lost it. He had to get her out of there, but how? He could call the police, but it would be humiliating to be found locked in a closet. It would be embarrassing if he had to call in his family too—maybe more so—but at least he wouldn’t be the latest gossip in law enforcement circles that could spill over into their agency’s reputation when they were getting the business going.
Didn’t matter. He had to call someone. Thankfully, he’d brought one of the agency’s SAT phones and could access signals most everywhere. His brothers would take hours to get there, but Blackwell Tactical’s facility was just a few miles away. The fastest response without all the danger to their agency’s reputation.
In addition to clearing the building of any danger, he’d want the room dusted for prints, so he’d start with Samantha. She was a former criminalist with PPB—the Portland Police Bureau. As such, she’d been required to serve five years as a patrol officer and could not only clear the building, but could also get them out of this place, and then process the evidence.
He tapped her icon and turned to face the wall.
“Samantha Griffin,” she answered cheerfully.
“Sam, it’s Clay Byrd.” He explained his predicament and the need for forensics.
He had to give her credit. She didn’t laugh. At least not aloud. “I’ll head out right away. Griff can come with me. Or do you need a tactical response?”
“I doubt the person who locked us in is hanging around,” he said, but was glad to have her husband along to help. “But if you’d feel better with backup, bring someone else.”
“Better to be safe than sorry, right?”
“Right.”
“Riley’s on call, so he’ll be with us.”
“If you don’t mind, could we keep this between us and Riley?”
“Sure thing.”
Getting her agreement was far easier than he’d expected, but his brother would be a different story. Clay wouldn’t call Drake, but Clay was supposed to work out with him later that night.
“Yo, man,” Drake answered. “Where’d you disappear to?”
Clay told him, describing the snake and locked door. Drake started laughing.
“Not funny, bro,” Clay snapped. “This is serious. Toni Long’s here. The note we both got said this is somehow related to her father’s death. She’s in shock.”
