Page 67 of Saving Noah

“How? How will we find Dante if the FBI can’t?” Zach prodded as the floors counted down.

“The FBI can find him, Zach. What they can’t do is get enough evidence against him to hold up in court.” Connor shrugged as the doors slid open, and they stepped out into the lobby area. “We don’t need court evidence.” He turned to Zach and said, “We have all the evidence we need. Moretti will pay.”

They started walking across the lobby area toward the doors, Denala whimpering, whining, and pulling on the leash with the same frustrating dedication Zach had grown accustomed to over the past few days. Zach couldn’t believe he and Connor were discussing killing a man with the exact same nonchalance they would have used to discuss a ballgame, the weather, or where to spend the holidays. It was, in both their minds, a foregone conclusion Dante Moretti would die. The only questions left were how and when.

When Denala gave a particularly vicious yank on the leash, Zach moaned in pain and irritation. It felt like she tried to pull his arm right out of the socket.

Connor laughed sadly and said, “I can definitely see why she failed her police academy training. I thought she was just incapable of search and rescue and the attack commands. I had no idea she wasn’t even leash trained.”

“Heel, Denala,” Zach barked irritably as he gave the leash a yank to force her back to his side. “She’s been this way since Noah was taken,” he explained. “She was much better…before.” Hell, they’d all been much better before Noah was taken. No, murdered. Buried alive. His legs almost buckled as his mind allowed visions of Noah’s torture to flash through his head.

Connor grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. “What do you mean? She didn’t have problems with leash training before? This only started when Noah disappeared?”

Zach immediately started shaking his head. “I know what you’re thinking, Conn. I thought the same thing—that Denala would be able to find Noah. I even brought one of his T-shirts along on our last outing and asked her to find him. I know it was stupid, that she hadn’t completed her training before flunking out, but I tried anyway. She loves Noah; I thought she could bring him home.” No, shelovedNoah—past tense.

Connor was still frowning. “Where did you take her?”

“What? Take her? What do you mean?”

“When you asked her to search, Zach. Where was she?” Connor demanded, his cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Across the street, in the dog park. She followed our exact walking path back to the door, Conn. Nothing. It was like she had his scent for a second, but then headed straight back to our building.” Zach stroked the top of her head as she continued to whine and look up at him with her big brown eyes.

“Drop the leash, Zach,” Connor ordered quietly.

“She can’t—”

Connor snatched the leash out of Zach’s hand and barked, “Search, Denala!”

Without hesitation, Denala raced across the lobby floor, causing several people to cringe in fear before she stopped in front of the door which lead to the stairwell, barking once to alert them…just as they’d tried to train her. The stairs were rarely used, only there in case of a fire. For certain, Zach and Denala hadneverused them before.

Zach looked at Connor, hope blossoming in his chest, even though he kept trying to squash it back down. Hope was a deceitful bitch. “What’s she doing?” he asked Connor.

“I don’t know, but we’re about to find out. Come on,” he said as he started after Denala.

They pushed the heavy doors open, and Denala burst through and headed straight up the stairs, racing like the hounds of hell were closing in on her. Zach and Connor followed as closely as possible, Connor with his gun drawn and Zach with his heart pounding so loudly he could hear it over Denala’s barks. His and Noah’s penthouse suites were on the twenty-first floor and as they passed the nineteenth floor, Zach’s hope started to diminish. Denala was just going home, hoping Noah would be there.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Connor roared as Denala sped past the nineteenth floor. “She’s just going home.”

A wave of despair racked Zach’s body. This was it. He was losing his mind. Laughter bubbled out of his mouth while tears of sadness started to roll down his cheeks. He’d wanted to believe. He should’ve known better.

Denala stopped on the twentieth floor and barked in front of the door leading to the hallway. Zach froze, the crazy laughter dying in his throat. Connor stared at the door, then at Denala. She barked again, this time more urgent.

“Oh, shit,” Connor said.

Eighty-six hours. Is he dead? Did they only take him a floor below Zach’s apartment to kill him? Has he been there this entire time?

Unable to wait another second, Zach barreled ahead and yanked the door open. Denala ran down the hallway, barking excitedly until she came to the last door at the end of the hall. At that door, she jumped up and started scratching wildly. Her barks turned to whimpers. Zach reached the door ahead of Connor and started banging, demanding they let him in. It was perfectly silent on the other side of the door.

When the apartment door across the hall opened, Connor shoved a gun straight into the face of a kid who barely looked to be in his teens. He yelped in shock, started yelling “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot,”and dropped down on his knees.

“Shit, kid,” Connor said as he dropped his gun to his side. “I’m not going to shoot you. I’m with the police department.” When the kid quit quaking in fear, Connor asked, “Do you know who lives in this apartment?”

Standing back up, he said “Nah, not a clue. About six guys moved in around two weeks ago—did a bunch of construction in there, it sounded like. They were there for several days, but I haven’t heard or seen anything in over a week.” He scrunched up his nose and said, “It smells weird. I wish they’d get evicted. I told my mom it was some weird shit going on, but, as usual, she didn’t believe me.”

Zach’s stomach plummeted at the “smells weird” comment. His hand automatically went to the doorknob, but it was, of course, locked tight.

“Listen, could you call down to the front desk for me? Tell them I need someone up here to open this apartment immediately. Let them know I’m a cop,” Connor said.

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