23
HAYES
She wasn’t home. The alarm was set, but she wasn’t inside.
The house was silent except for the hum of the fridge. She hadn’t answered my text about having dinner at Alpha Mountain because Mrs. L was making that pot roast she promised. She hadn’t answered the one I texted a few minutes ago.
Her car was gone. I went and opened her safe–watching her type in the numbers didn’t require SEAL training–and her gun was gone. So was the Viking dagger.
“f**k,” I muttered.
It was supposed to be there until we met with Burns to get her father back.
Had she gone on her own?
“Son of a bitch.”
Of course, she had. Why would she change the way she did things–alone–after what we shared the night before?
Hadn’t I made myself f*****g clear?
I pulled out my cell, dialed Kennedy.
“Yo.”
“Pul
