Page 99 of Elusive Promise

"We need to find Isaac and Sara as soon as possible."

"Local police just picked up Sara at a bus stop."

Relief washed over her. "That's the best news you could have given me. What about Isaac?"

"No sign of him, and Sara claims she doesn't know where he is, but we've got every agency in New York looking for him, and I think we have a good chance of getting her to talk. I need to get inside the house. Are you sticking around?"

Before she could answer that question, she saw Vincent Rowland come down the street with another FBI agent. "I don't think so," she said. "Jared told me there were a lot of food wrappers inside the house from a local café. He went to check it out. I'm going to catch up with him. I'll call you if the lead is worth anything."

Damon gave her a hard nod. "Stay in touch."

"I will. I don't think this is over yet."

As Damon went into the house, she retrieved her gun and managed to slip away without drawing anyone's attention. Jared's car was gone, but he'd said the restaurant was only a few blocks away. Pulling out her phone, she checked for the address and then started jogging down the street.

Twenty-Three

Jared noticed the drops of blood while he was standing in line at the Roti Indian Café to talk to the young male clerk. There was one female customer ahead of him, and two men in the kitchen filling orders. He followed the blood trail down a back hallway, past two bathrooms to a staircase.

He pulled out his gun, moving quietly up the stairs. There was more blood on the landing and on the knob of a closed door. He listened for a moment, hearing what sounded like muffled groans. He had no idea who was on the other side of that door, but his gut told him it was Isaac. The blood was fresh and judging by the number of food wrappers from the café downstairs, clearly the kidnappers had been at this location numerous times.

He tested out the knob. The door was locked. He didn't really want to kick it in and alert anyone, either in the room or downstairs, as to his presence. He pulled out his wallet and removed a lock-picking tool.

It took him only a minute to turn the lock.

He slowly opened the door, raising his gun as he did so. He saw a man lying on the couch, a towel pressed to his gut, a gun on the coffee table in front of him.

Isaac!

His heart jolted with a rush of adrenaline. The man he'd been hunting for weeks was right in front of him. He didn't see anyone else in what appeared to be a studio apartment. He strode forward, his gun on Isaac.

"Don't move," he said, as Isaac tried to sit up and get his gun.

The man stared back at him, as if weighing his options. If he hadn't been bleeding so badly, he probably would have come at him, but it didn't appear as if Isaac had much strength left. His face was ashen. Sweat dotted his face, and his breathing was fast. He was obviously in pain.

Jared walked over to the coffee table and grabbed Isaac's gun. "Where's Sara?"

Isaac shrugged.

"You're not going to make it through the day, Isaac. You talk, and I'll get you help."

"I'm not afraid to die," he said, his voice laced with a British accent.

"That's good, because that's where you're headed, unless you decide to help. Where's the bomb?"

Isaac stared back at him. "What bomb?"

"The one you and your pals made. What's the target?"

"You think I'd tell you?"

"If you want to live, you will."

"Who are you? Why are you alone? Where's your badge?" Isaac asked, his gaze narrowing.

"I'll tell you who I am. I'm April's friend. Remember her? The woman you killed in Paris?"

"The CIA bitch?"

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