Page 67 of Taken from Her
They'd used her competence against her. Used her dedication to saving others as the weapon to destroy her.
Her radio crackled, normal police business continuing while Diana's world collapsed around her. She should call this in immediately, but first, she needed to understand what Lavender was trying to tell her.
The sea cave. Morning tide. Chamomile and lavender growing in windowsill planters that caught the first light. All references to places and things that mattered to them personally.
Diana pulled out her phone to check tide charts. Low tide was at 6:47 a.m, less than three hours away. If Lavender was being held somewhere accessible only at low tide, Diana would have a narrow window once the tide receded.
It was enough time to decode the message completely, mobilize rescue resources, and follow the trail Lavender had left. It had to be.
Diana photographed the message and the desk area, preserving evidence while her mind shifted into operational mode. Lavender was counting on her. The cats wound around her ankles as if understanding they were now her responsibility.
Diana stared at Lavender's message until the words blurred, her exhausted mind working to extract every possible layer of meaning. The sea cave was obvious—their shared discovery where professional partnership had shifted into something deeper. But the other references felt as equally important, pieces of a puzzle that could mean the difference between Lavender’s rescue or their shared tragedy.
Saffron's favorite windowsill herbs. Diana looked toward the galley where the morning light illuminated the small plantersLavender tended with such care. Chamomile and lavender, plants that caught the first rays of sun each day. But why mention them specifically?
Diana stood, moving to the windows where ceramic pots lined the sill. Chamomile with its small white flowers and lavender with its purple spikes, plants Lavender used for the morning tea they shared, rituals of domestic intimacy that had become part of their?—
The harbor. Lavender's message wasn't just about the plants themselves, but about what they could see from this window. Diana peered through the glass, following the sight line across the water toward the industrial district visible in the distance.
Morning light would reveal what darkness now concealed. From this exact spot, looking past the herb garden toward the harbor's far shore, you could see the warehouse district where the federal operation had taken place hours ago. But also the older industrial area beyond it, structures that predated the modern shipping facilities.
Chemical storage and maritime equipment. Buildings designed for function rather than visibility, perfect for hiding activities that required isolation and discretion.
Diana's pulse quickened as understanding clarified. Lavender hadn't just been telling her about the sea cave. She'd been providing geographic coordinates using landmarks only Diana would recognize, references that would mean nothing to kidnappers but everything to the woman who shared morning coffee while looking at this exact view.
The cats wound around her ankles, and Diana knelt to stroke Saffron's orange fur. "Trust the cats to guard what matters most." Not just affection, but instruction. Saffron and Basil had been here when Lavender was taken. They'd seen everything, heard everything, and hidden until it was safe to come out.
Diana pulled out her phone, hands steadier now that purpose was replacing panic. Angela first—her tactical coordinator who could mobilize resources without questions or delays.
"Chief?" Angela's voice carried concern. "Everything okay?"
"Lavender's been taken. I need an immediate response team, marine unit, and tactical support." Diana's voice came out stronger than she felt. "Industrial district near the old chemical storage facilities."
"Jesus. How long?"
"I don’t know. Maybe hours." Diana moved toward the bedroom where Lavender's phone still tangled in the sheets. "This is connected to the federal operation. It’s retaliation for what we accomplished tonight."
"I'm mobilizing now. Meet at the marina? We can coordinate a marine approach from there."
"Fifteen minutes." Diana ended the call and immediately dialed Julia.
"Chief, it's?—"
"They took Lavender." The words came out flat, all emotional weight stripped away. "I need a community liaison and coordination with the federal task force."
"On my way. What do you need from me?"
"Contact Agent Delacroix. This is connected to tonight's raids, and he needs to know his operation triggered a retaliatory strike." Diana gathered evidence bags, photographing Lavender's message one final time. "Also contact Dr. Hassan at the hospital. When we bring Lavender back, she'll need immediate medical assessment."
When, not if. Because failure wasn't an option when the woman you loved was counting on your competence to save her life.
Morgan answered on the first ring, alertness in her voice suggesting she'd been awake despite the hour. "Technical support?"
"Marine tracking, communication intercepts, and digital forensics on anything we recover from the scene." Diana locked the houseboat behind her, cats safe inside with food and fresh water. "Also coordinate with federal monitoring equipment. If there's electronic chatter related to retaliation, I need to know."
"Already accessing systems. Chief, we'll find her."
Diana didn't respond to the reassurance. She couldn't afford emotional comfort when mental sharpness was required. But Morgan's confidence helped steady her as she walked toward the patrol car.
