herself in to Cyrus. Natalie would be safe. The men wouldn’t have to walk into a trap. Everyone would be safe and sound.
Except her.
She told Cyrus she would go to him. Convincing Cyrus to release the women would be simple for her. All she had to do was sleep with the deranged asshole and he would do anything for her.
Not in Clint’s lifetime.
Just the idea of Cyrus touching her made him a shade shy of deranged himself.
Staring at the screen, Mitchell reversed the footage of J.B. and played it again, over and over. Something bothered him. Something that had thrown him for a loop. Clint had seen it before in his face, when Mitchell saw Angela on Aidan’s video feed from the nineteen forties.
Clint took a calming breath. Mitchell usually confided in him, usually came to him when he needed some logical input. Today, he’d clammed up.
“What aren’t you telling us?” he said, studying his boss.
Mitchell spoke to the screen. “Nothing. The four of you need to pack your bags. The chopper leaves in an hour.”
* * *
Clint leaned back in his chair and stared at the wall of monitors in the D.I.R.E. HQ operations room. The DNA tracker ran on seven screens, one for each missing woman and Cyrus. The lack of dots on the ladies’ screens was telling, a crime really, considering the three dots on Cyrus’s tracker and the size of the globe. The fact that life wasn’t fair proved no more evident than in that moment.
The harsh reality just reiterated their need to keep the D.I.R.E. family intact, reiterated his absolute need to show they were his life, not Cyrus or whichever parent was confirmed the liar.
Tapping the Bluetooth at his ear, he said, “Mom?”
As was the norm, he’d tried to video conference her, but she didn’t pick up. Seeing her usually gave him a true prognosis of her cancer, rather than depending on her sketchy reports. Carol Robinson refused to let anyone see her weak, and most of all, would never concede defeat. Even to cancer.
Knowing that, her lack of response could mean she was trying to hide her health—or something else. She would never risk her position if she were a part of this mess.
“Clinton. So good of you to call.”
Her voice sounded tired, as though spoken with false bravado. How could they even consider her a suspect in this bizarre scenario?
“How are you, Mom?”
A pause ensued before she spoke. “Tired. Busy. It really isn’t a good time to talk.”
Well, he had some questions that just couldn’t wait. It wouldn’t take long to figure out if she was involved. Doing it here at HQ would track the conversation, would show he had nothing to hide.
“Have you considered that you’re tired because you’re too busy?” he said.
“Clinton, don’t patronize me. You know I don’t like it.”
What do you like, Mother ?
“Where are you?” He listened for any change in tone or background noise, as he watched the yellow dots on Cyrus’s DNA tracker account.
“Just reading at home.”
“Let me guess,” he said, old familiarity filtering into the conversation. “East of Eden.”
“I am.” Wind whooshed over the line, the sound of voices in the background. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing,” he said, his gaze intent on the screen. “You’ve just read it at least twenty times.”
Suddenly, Natalie’s dot appeared on the monitor—in Texas.
The same place where the two dots appeared on Cyrus’s monitor.
The others soon followed in quick succession.
Anger thrashed about inside him like a live wire. Grabbing a wastebasket under the desk, he knew he’d puke his guts out, any second now. His lips curled over his teeth to keep it down, to keep from screaming at her, to bury the words churning like hot coals in his gut. His own mother, the woman that had given him birth, had kidnapped his friends, had hidden the truth of Cyrus’s birth, had set out to destroy D.I.R.E. and change the world.
She took his call, knowing he’d send the agents.
Tossing