Page 71 of The Chief
The bubbles bounced up and down as my sister’s captor typed. Chewing my thumbnail, I waited, watching the bubbles appear and disappear.
Unknown number: You.
It was only three brief letters, but they were enough to make my stomach twist into an anxious knot. My hands shook as I considered what to say, but I didn’t have long to worry as another message came through with an address. Pasting it into the maps app, I found the address was for a small bed-and-breakfast, The Old Mill, just north of Naul Village, on the border between Dublin and Meath. Now that I knew where Orla was being held, I had to leave. While Mila was asleep, and before Keir could return to the wing.
Opening the door, I checked to see if the coast was clear, then slipped out into the hall. It was quiet in this house. I was used to it since I lived alone, but this version was louder somehow. Sound dampened by thick carpets and rugs. Hurrying along the hallway, I kept an eye out for Keir, and by the time I made it to the front door, I was sweating with nerves. Thankfully, the Caddie wasn’t there, and I bypassed any other security.
Keir’s Rover was still parked in the same spot, and as I climbed in, I prayed he’d left the key there too. I looked everywhere and was about to give up when I thought I’d try the button. The car started, and I thanked whatever god was up there that it did. I peeled out of the compound, quickly turning north toward the border.
Pea gravel pinged the undercarriage of the Rover as I drove down the long driveway toward the Old Mill. From what I could see between the trees, it was a collection of buildings that had probably once belonged to a working farm. Everything nowlooked in disrepair, and any hope of finding my sister unharmed faded from my mind.
Pulling to a stop alongside one of the outbuildings, I killed the engine and got out. I hoped this wasn’t a colossal fucking mistake, but then I thought about Orla and how I wanted her to be safe. If she was okay, then I could live with anything. There was no movement outside of the buildings, no one here to escort me inside, so I walked cautiously to the door of the barn and peered inside.
It smelled of old hay, mold, and the remnants of animals, but the concrete ground was clean of debris. It was a smell which leeched into the structure itself, burrowing into the ancient beams that had seen centuries of farming. I listened for a moment, hearing nothing but the twitter of birds and the wind escaping through the gaps between the boards.
Turning, I moved toward the main building—a farmhouse that had a faded sign still sitting above the door. I knew it must have once been a cozy place for guests to unwind, but now it simply looked sad. Beaten down. Throwing back my shoulders, I twisted the handle and walked inside.
The first thing I noticed was the cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, as my hoodie did nothing to compensate for the lack of heat. Walking further into the old farm kitchen, I startled when the door slammed shut behind me. I spun around to see who it was, but a bag was dragged over my head. There was a sudden pressure on the side of my neck, then …
Darkness.
The ground was hard beneath my body, and the cold seeped up, causing my bones to ache. My head hurt, too, but when I reachedup to shove the hair from my face, I found I couldn’t move. My hands were bound behind me, something sharp-edged pulling taut against my skin. Panic threatened to overtake my senses, but I shoved down the wild feelings and focused on what I could control.
The bag had been removed from my head, but wherever I was being held was dark. A basement, perhaps. I shifted my legs, hearing dirt and gravel move beneath my feet. The whole place smelled of earth, but at least it was dry. I rose to my feet, then using my bound hands, I felt along the wall a few steps when I heard a small sniffle come from about ten feet in front of me. I froze, my spine and shoulders stiff, I thought I was alone, but maybe I’d been wrong.
“Hello?” I said in a low voice. “Is someone there?”
“Caitria?”
Fuck. “Orla?” Relief made the volume of my voice shoot up. “Orla, is that you?”
“It’s me,” she sobbed. “It’s me.”
“My hands are bound. Are yours?”
“Yes.” It was a whimper, like she was in pain.
“Okay, stay there. I’m coming to you.”
Moving in the direction of her voice, I used the wall to guide me. When I felt the warmth of her body and smelled the frangipani scent of her body lotion, I nearly broke down. Pressing my forehead to hers, I let myself soak in the feeling of relief that I’d found her—no matter how fleeting it was.
“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“I had a headache when I first woke up.”
“Have they given you water?” My nursing training was kicking in. Dehydration was our biggest threat right now, since I had no idea how long we’d be here. With any luck, Orla would be released now they had me.
“A couple of sips from a bottle. That’s all.”
“Did they hurt you in any other way? Touch you? Did they?—”
“No, Cait,” she said. “They just told me they expected to see you soon.”
Those fuckers. If we had any chance of getting out of here unharmed, we had to be proactive. “Orla, I have a knife strapped to my ankle.”
“Why would you?—”
“Don’t worry about why,” I interrupted in a whisper. “When we get out of here, I’ll tell you everything, but right now, I need you to pull the knife free. Think you can do that?”
