Page 91 of Whispers at Dusk
“You for them,” he reminded her. “Or you for me, and they live. The choice will be yours.”
She handed him the Glock and her radio walkie-talkie.
“Let’s do this,” she said.
Mason had arrived at the old shack he’d seen deep in the bayou brush. It had been nothing but derelict—no beer cans or cigarette butts littered the place.
It had been abandoned decades ago, he thought, and it hadn’t been on the radar of anyone who might see a need to destroy the remains.
Some of the area was private land, and some of that private land had been owned by the same families for centuries.
He was in the cabin when he heard Gideon warn Della someone was just outside.
Stephan Dante.
Knowing he wasn’t being watched then, Mason hurried through the foliage toward Della’s position.
His temptation was to shoot Dante on the spot if that’s what was needed to get him away from Della.
But that wouldn’t bring them to the missing young women. As difficult as it might be, he had to let Della play it out.
Bring her to the girls. And then...
Then they had to take the man alive. Because they owed it to Taylor and Lapierre to find out the truth. Had Dante himself killed in France and England, or were there still killers out there who had followed the man’s mantra?
He moved into position to see them.
Gideon was standing staunchly by Della’s side.
And they were beginning to move.
He pulled out his radio. Taylor and Lapierre would already know what was going on, but he needed Detective Fremont and his local law enforcement to know their play was in motion and to stand down but ready.
He looked at the terrain. Stephan Dante was bringing Della toward something that didn’t appear to be a path in any way. They were crawling through thick foliage.
He couldn’t help but wish an eastern diamondback, any other rattler, coral snake, or maybe a cottonmouth would sink its fangs into Dante—let the man know just what “fangs” could do.
But the man was from Slidell, and he obviously knew the bayou.
And yet the most experienced man or woman could be surprised.
Dante wasn’t going to be bitten by a snake, no matter how ironic such an occurrence would be. And Mason had to control his fear and his temper.
They needed Dante alive.
But more. So much more. He needed Della alive.
As he moved forward, he felt the vibration of his phone. He glanced at it and saw Angela was calling from headquarters. Never taking his eyes off Della, he answered the call.
“She’s with him, Angela. I’m right behind. Della is trying to get him to take us to the girls.”
“I have a few things for you. Can you follow and listen?”
“I can.”
“I found out why Stephan Dante knows so much about the area. His family owned half the property in the area. I’m horrified it took so long, but he was born to an unwed mother who hid him for years—teaching him how to change his name. Then he began to excel in school, and she brought him home where, because he was accomplished, he was accepted. He should have inherited, but the land was sold at auction to pay off back taxes. Federal taxes. His hatred for the government began then, I believe. But I was able to draw up old records—I can show you where he might be heading,” Angela told him. “Maps heading to everyone’s phones.”
“Great, thank you,” Mason said. He was moving again as he spoke. The foliage was so dense, the map would prove to be incredibly helpful because he’d have a direction, but it was far too possible Della and Stephan Dante might disappear into the green of the bayou.
