“I think Colton is right about the suspect being Susan Felding,” Max says.
The name sparks a reminder. I promised the detective that I’d speak with her about this person, but it slipped my mind once we got back to my room the night of the celebration party. All I could focus on was her and her soft skin, the way she entices me, and the thoughts running through my head after watching her kiss and coo at the babies in the room.
Instead of speaking with her about this Susan woman, I spent that evening getting sucked off in the shower, wishing that I was fucking a baby into her rather than blowing in her mouth. The days after that were spent in similar positions, her need for me insatiable, and my inability to turn her down.
That wanting to get her pregnant need never dissipated, and although I’ve worn a condom each and every damn time we had sex, it didn’t stop my mind from imagining my bare cock inside of her and the result of what that would bring.
“I forgot to tell her about Susan Felding,” I confess, my hand rough on my face as I try to stay calm in front of all these strong members. It’s a battle I’m quickly losing, feeling helpless for the first time in as long as I can remember. “I was—”
“It’s Colton,” Max interrupts as the screen at the front of the room flickers to a FaceTime call.
“We know it’s a woman,” Colton says as he turns his cell phone toward a dusty television screen. “We found gas station footage.”
“I searched all footage nearby,” Max says, the irritation that he may have missed something making him angry.
“The system they have is severely outdated. You wouldn’t have been able to access this online. An old VCR is recording, and the only reason we have this footage is because of the storm we had last week turned the camera and they haven’t fixed it yet. As you can see, right after she pulls into the parking lot, a dark sedan pulls up. She’s hit over the head and dragged into the back of the car. From what I can tell, the stature of the person doing this meets details in an arrest report for Susan Felding.”
I watch in horror as Faith is hit over the head, the grainy footage making it no less traumatizing, and then my girl is heaved into the back seat of a black car, probably the same one that was following her before. Had I instructed her to keep driving so the guys could get their eyes on the car that day, all of this could’ve been avoided. Being too overprotective put her in even more danger, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.
“I’m following the car from that parking lot,” Max advises with Colton still on the line.
“I’ll let you know if we find anything else,” Colton says before the screen goes black.
Everyone in the room waits quietly while Max works.
“I can’t track past the north side of town,” he mutters, his fingers working over the keys on his computer.
“But we have directionality,” Kincaid says. “We have a description of the car and drones. We’ll fucking find her.”
A wave of agreements washes through the room, the members around me anxious to get started.
“And when the sun goes down and the drones can’t see shit?” I ask, my body tensing up with the dreaded possibility.
“It’s midday,” Kincaid reminds me. “Let’s work on finding her before the sun sets.”
Max holds up his phone. “Colton is making arrangements with SWAT to use thermal imaging.”
This helps calm me some, knowing that the search doesn’t have to stop once the sun leaves the sky. Cerberus uses thermal imaging tools all the time, but they’re best for up-close inspection. We’d have to be within two hundred yards of a person for them to work for us.
“We have better tech at our disposal than the PD,” Kincaid says, drawing the attention of everyone in the room as he types something into his cell phone. “Deacon Black with Blackbridge Security has a helicopter.”
“It’ll take a helicopter over seven hours to get here, and that’s not including the time it’ll take to land and refuel the number of times required on the way from St. Louis,” Apollo says, his expertise on all things mechanical making the hope I started to feel fall flat.
Kincaid doesn’t answer as he continues to type.
My pacing resumes. We know the direction Felding was heading. I don’t understand why we’re sitting here doing nothing while horrific things could be happening to my girl.
“He’s got one in Denver and will have it here in less than three hours,” Kincaid says. “He’s sending three more, but those will take longer because they’re spread out all over.”
I nod, liking the news of less than three hours over the seven I originally thought we would have to wait.