Page 44 of Deadly Threat
Malachi had dropped the jewelry and he bent to scoop it up once more. “Thought you were at the meeting.”
Thomas glanced around as though bored. “I’ve found I don’t have a lot of patience for them. I came here earlier, took a look around.” He nudged his chin toward the metal door. “I see you found the entrance to whatever this place is hiding underground.”
Mia took the earring and held it out to him. “This belongs to my sister. She bought them when she won the mayoral race. Could she be down there?”
Thomas handed Malachi the crowbar. “Put those big muscles of yours to work, Cahill, and let’s find out.”
Nineteen
Thomas had long ago figured out he was similar to a cat—he had at least nine lives. He’d used quite a few of them in his line of work, and he owed a debt to the jerk in front of him for saving one of them a while back.
From the look on Cahill’s face, he was regretting that rescue now.
Ronni had profiled the big oaf, and assured Coop the eldest Cahill was impeccable in word and deed. He was a strategic thinker, consistently toed the line, and got shit done. He was a classic overachiever and white knight, always saving others.
It had to be killing him not to be able to rescue Amber Livingston and make Mia happy. Thomas was doing what he could to help the guy, not only because of the debt, but because he liked him.
That meant dodging Coop and his orders, and he’d probably get a formal reprimand stuck in his file, but Thomas didn’t really give a damn.
He held out the crowbar suspended between them, and yep, there it was—the guy eyed him as he accepted the makeshift weapon, tapping it in his palm twice before he went to work on the lock.
The white knight won over the renegade identity that Cahill was trying to embrace.
“I scanned the lab earlier,” he told them both. “No traces of recent activity—no fresh blood stains or any sign of a struggle. Doesn’t appear that the sinks or toilets have been used, no cigarette butts or trash visible. Still, it has the feel of…”
“What?” Malachi insisted.
“Someone’s been here. They made sure not to leave a trail.”
Mia cut her eyes between him and the lock, the crowbar screeching against the metal. “Of course they’ve been here. Amber’s earring—”
“Good find.” He nodded. “They may have come and gone in a hurry, and didn’t use the interior. What I did notice is that the loading dock and the floor of the wing of the lab appear slightly higher than the rest, as if they were built into a hill, but they’re not.”
Under the brutal force of the crowbar, the lock popped and Cahill handed the bar back to Thomas. “No access inside to a basement or crawl space?”
“Not that I located, but my search wasn’t thorough. I think this whole back area has a false floor.” He noticed Mia’s face light up. He didn’t want to take that away, but he didn’t think it fair to give her false optimism. “Even if there is, I doubt she’s here.”
“Why not?” Mia sounded pissed and she held out the earring. “She’s obviously been here.”
“They may have transferred her from one vehicle to another, or a guy got that hooked on a piece of clothing and dropped it here at some point after they kidnapped her. We really don’t have much to go on.”
Mia cocked her head at Malachi. It seemed to pain him to agree with Thomas, but he did. “If there’s nothing inside,” he told her, “he’s right.”
“But there’s a door. She could be right under our feet!”
“They wouldn’t leave her unguarded,” Malachi argued. “And they wouldn’t lock this from the outside, unless…”
When he stared down at the door handle, she demanded, “Unless what?”
Cahill didn’t want to answer, and Thomas was used to being the bearer of bad news, so he did it for him. “Unless they left her to die.”
Mia staggered. Cahill grabbed her arm. “You stay here with Mann,” he told her. “I’ll check what’s down there.”
Thomas shoved past them. “You both stay here. I’ll go.”
Neither protested. Thomas lifted the door, hinges squeaking from decades of sun and sand. Steps led down into darkness. He took out his Glock and picked up the flashlight Cahill had left on the ground. Flicking it on, he saw cobwebs, dust, a fleeing roach. The dust on the steps looked mottled, as though someone had recently disturbed it, but it was too messed up to get a decent tread print.
“You need backup.” Cahill took out his own weapon. “We have no idea what you’re walking into. I don’t need your death on my conscience.”
