Free Final Touch by Brandilyn Collins Page A

the kitchen sink, filling a glass with water. Rayne stood beside her, stomach growling. Brittany knew Rayne had eaten nothing since two o’clock Saturday afternoon. Neither had Brittany. But how could they eat now? What if Shaley was going hungry? What kind of person would eat when her best friend couldn’t?
    Brittany gave the glass of water to Rayne and slipped an arm around her.
    Rayne patted her shoulder. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”
    “You know I can’t.” Brittany looked toward the great room. “Where’s Gary?”
    “I don’t know. In the den, I think.”
    Brittany rubbed her face and sighed. “I feel like…dead. Or like my brain’s been put in someone else’s body. Everything isn’t quite real.”
    Footsteps echoed on the great room floor. Hours ago the long rows of wedding chairs had been taken down, but only a few pieces of Ed’s oversize furniture had been carted back in from the estate’s storage shed. Now every sound in the huge room echoed.
    “I know.” Rayne took a long drink and set the glass in the sink. “Me too.”
    A cell phone went off from the dining room. Brittany froze. It was Agent Scarrow’s—again. It rang all the time. And each time she feared hearing some terrible news. She cocked her head toward the sound.
    “Scarrow.”
    Rayne caught Brittany’s eye. They both remained still, listening.
    “Oh,” the agent said. “That’s great news. Where?”
    Rayne and Brittany exchanged wide-eyed looks and hurried out of the kitchen. At the threshold of the dining room they stopped, watching Agent Scarrow’s face for clues. He sat near the end of the long table—his makeshift office—surrounded by files and papers and his laptop. As he talked he jotted in his notebook. He glanced at them and gave them a thumbs-up. Brittany’s heart clutched. What? What?
    She found Rayne’s hand and gripped it.
    Agent Scarrow scribbled on and on in his notepad. Brittany waited impatiently, drinking in his words. Something about a call. Local law enforcement sent out. He asked curt questions, then wrote some more.
    Please God, please—have they found her?
    “All right. Thanks. Get right back to me with updates.” He ended the call and focused on Rayne, speaking rapidly. “Shaley called nine-one-one. She’s in Utah.”
    “Oh!” Rayne’s hand flew to her mouth.
    Utah. For a split second Brittany’s mind tripped over the detail. Shaley was now in Utah? Then crazy joy and relief flooded her body. She rushed forward, hands up, pleading. “Is she okay? Where is she?”
    “In a cabin off Highway 125, southwest of Provo. Local law enforcement are on their way to seal off the cabin. Apparently Shaley managed to call while her kidnapper was somewhere else in the house. Sounded like she hung up abruptly when she heard him coming.”
    “Can they get to her?” Rayne’s voice sounded tinny.
    “The sheriff’s department is cordoning off the property. The FBI’s field office in Salt Lake City is two hours’ drive north. They’ve got a SWAT unit. We’re calling in the unit to handle the situation. These are very highly trained men. They’ll get the job done.”
    SWAT unit?
    Questions crammed into Brittany’s mind. So many things could go wrong.
    “But those men are two hours away?” Rayne dug her fingers into her hair. “And that’s once they’re called in and ready to go. Why not have the local police—”
    “They’re out in the sticks, near a small town of seven hundred people. Local police don’t have the resources to do what we need. The FBI’s SWAT team will know how to negotiate, how to talk a suspect into giving up. And if they have to, they know how to storm the place and remove Shaley.”
    Where was Gary? He should be hearing this. Brittany swiveled toward the great room. “I’ll go tell everyone!”
    She ran through the great room, shouting, “They know where Shaley is, they know where she is!” Bedroom doors opened on the second floor. Gary darted out of the den.