Page 30 of Treasured

His admission surprises me and I turn to look at him. Our eyes meet. "Yeah," he says, "I didn't want to believe it, but the more we've been driving and following your instructions, the stronger the feeling has been getting for me. It's almost like I can feel her calling for us."

A strange sensation comes over me. It's like the bond between Creed and me has grown stronger. All the twins in Eagle Canyon, much like twins everywhere, have a connection that's different from other siblings, but we've also had plenty of differences and disagreements. But now, it feels like we are simply two halves of the same whole.

I feel a tug toward Tracy. She's scared. Terrified.

Correct that. We're three parts of the same whole.

And we need to find our girl.

* * *

Tracy

"Agent Muldoon," I say, getting out of my car and stealing a glance along the road. Why isn't there more traffic? Someone to come and save me.

Because this isn't going to end well.

"Ah, you remember me," Agent Muldoon says.

"It would be hard to forget. I don't get grilled by the FBI every day." My stomach knots as I recall the way he'd leaned across the table in the room, just like they show on TV, calling me names and making accusations.

"Please," I'd said, "may I please have some water?" I had no idea how long it had been, but it seemed like hours and hours had passed since they'd hauled me into that room and handcuffed me to the bar running down the middle of the table. Like they were scared of me. They were the ones with the guns. And free movement of their arms and legs.

Even now, weeks later, I shiver at the recollection. I'd stopped having nightmares about it, but apparently the dreamcatcher is useless against nightmares that show up when you're not sleeping.

Then, as now, Muldoon's eyes were cold. Lifeless.

Terrifying.

He's still got the gun on me. Even when he and his coworkers had hauled me off for questioning and then threw me in a cell for two weeks, no one had pulled a gun on me.

Until now.

I want to just wait him out. Be brave and keep my mouth shut until he explains what he wants with me. Why he's standing here, hundreds of miles from his office. From his cronies with badges. I take a deep breath and tell myself to count to ten. Stay calm and let him do the talking.

One...two...three. "What do you want?" I demand. So much for my strategy to remain calm.

Surprisingly, I'm not scared. I'm mad. Furious. I've wasted enough time not being with my mates and now this asshat is in the way of me getting to them.

He cocks his head to the side and studies me. He's chewing gum and his jaw moves up and down while he works it. Despite his apparent addiction to Dentyne, I recall his stale breath as he'd gotten into my face, demanding that I tell him where Dex had gone with the money.

He spits out the gum, like it's a big cut of tobacco. Gross.

I'm leaning against my car. I'm grateful, and surprised, that he hasn't grabbed me or jabbed the gun into my ribs. Maybe I've been watching too much TV.

He still hasn't answered my question and I fight against the urge to shout at him and demand that he answer me.

"You know what I want," he finally says, unwrapping another piece of gum and shoving it in his mouth. He tosses the wrapper on the ground.

"Pick that up!" I say before I realize that I'm yelling at a guy with a gun. Littering really pisses me off.

He keeps his gaze on me, though the corners of his mouth turn up in a sickening sort of Joker smile while he slowly bends down and picks up the piece of paper and puts it in his coat pocket.

"Where's Dexter?" he demands. "I know you know where he is. You might have fooled those other idiots, but you can't fool me. You two were in on it together."

"No!" I gasp. "That's not true. My lawyer proved it. The charges were dropped."

"Your lawyer didn't prove anything. I dropped the charges because I wanted to."

---