Page 42 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
She was gone.
And there was nothing he could do about it except find the person responsible.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Ramon tookthe first turn off the highway fifty-two miles outside of Spokane, deep in the woods of Washington state. There were no signposts or even a road name to guide him. Only the GPS he had programmed into the SUV dash screen for the location pin he had been given.
The straight road rose in elevation. Flanked by thick pine trees, he couldn’t see anything on either side. The morning breeze swayed the trees back and forth at the top.
His phone had rung a couple of times, but Ramon ignored it. He was inclined to turn the thing off except for the fact it was in the back seat and that would mean stopping and getting out to reach it back there. There was nothing he needed to say to anyone on the team, nothing he needed to hear right now. Emergency services and whatever passed for rescue in this area would find Miguel’s body and go looking for Zeyla over the edge of that cliff.
In time, there would be arrangements to be made, and any conversations could happen then. Right now, he knew what he needed to do.
The gun he had been carrying, and Zeyla’s, were still in the pouch on the seat beside him where Miguel had left them.He reached over and unzipped it with one hand, drawing the weapon out.
Ramon held it against his leg, ready for anything.
Up ahead, an old metal sign had been pockmarked by bullet holes. Someone had used it for target practice. Probably several someones over a period of many years, making it so that the sign now leaned backward, and the lettering was barely visible.
Camp Dominion.
An old military research facility, according to the sign.
The desolate road descended down into a valley, where he could see multiple buildings in various states of decline. The fence lay flat on the ground in some places, and in others, a hole had been cut so that anyone could enter through the gap.
Who knew how many people had wandered through this place since the military had cleared out? It seemed like a great spot to explore, if you were an adventurous teenager with an incorrigible group of friends.
Ramon didn’t see any other vehicles or signs of life. If there was anyone here, they were keeping out of sight.
It wouldn’t surprise him if the trigger was pulled before he even got out of the car.
After all, that was what Miguel had been planning to do to Zeyla. Thankfully, Ramon had stopped him before the worst could happen. Which almost made him want to believe that there was someone looking out for Kenna and her friends, working on their behalf in the background. Kenna believed that was God, but Ramon still hadn’t reconciled whether or not he wanted to revive the faith he’d had as a child.
With Zeyla lying dead at the bottom of that hill, he couldn’t believe anything about this was a good thing.
Someone might have intervened to save her then, but it hadn’t happened again today. And now it was too late for her.
Ramon swallowed against a lump in his throat and pulled the car between the open gates. The guard shack was nothing but broken windows and an open door that had let far too many leaves in that were scattered on the floor. There would be nothing left to find here in this desolate place, no matter how hard he searched.
He pulled the car to a stop in the center of the main drag, buildings on both sides and a wide courtyard at the far end. If updated instructions had been sent to the phone, he would have no way of knowing. Except if Maizie had forwarded the information to his phone.
Unfortunately, the Plexiglas plate between him and the back seat meant that he couldn’t reach back there for his phone.
Ramon climbed out of the car and scanned all around him, unwilling to turn his back on any danger that might come. He kept the gun close to his side, tucked slightly behind his leg. When he didn’t see anyone, he turned and opened the back door for his phone.
They’d know he was armed now—if they were watching.
He grabbed the phone and shut the door, turning his back to it.
A man stood in front of the door to the first building, wearing jeans and a white button-down shirt tucked into his brown belt. Brown shoes, his hair slicked back and styled. The squat structure was two stories in height, and with nearly every window smashed, it looked like someone had spent hours throwing rocks at all the glass.
The phone buzzed in his hand, but he didn’t look at it. Ramon didn’t take his attention from the man. “Dr. Swanson?”
This was a surprise to him, considering everything they had gone through with the private medical examiner.
Ramon would never have guessed that the doctor who examined the severed hand was the person whohad orchestrated the entire thing, kidnapping women and murdering them.
