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“There’s something else as well,” said Murray with a hint of hesitation. “The trucks that I mentioned? They’re all military-grade. I don’t understand why six of those would be creeping around in the dead of night in that area of town.”
“They were following another car. Maybe the owner has something to do with this whole thing,” I said in a commanding tone. “Find out who it belongs to. Run a search with the license plate number. You can manage that, right?”
“Yeah,” said Murray.
“Let me know what you find.” Switching off the call, I looked up at my brother.
“Let’s take our bikes,” said Corey. “It’ll be faster.”
“Do we tell Dad anything?”
“Are you crazy?” he asked with a frown. “Let’s find Noah and Milla first. The old man will kill himself from the stress. You remember what the docs said, right? Stress is bad for him.”
I felt another stab of anxiety. “We can’t say anything to Irene either.”
Corey wrapped an arm around my shoulder and steered me toward the hallway that led to our underground parking space. “We’ll find them both,” he vowed. “Irene will see them both when she wakes up in the morning.”
I felt a surge of strength at his assurance. Feeling energized, I matched his long, hurried pace to get to our bikes in our basement garage.
“How long has it been since we rode them?” I asked as we entered the well-lit space that housed the family’s cars and bikes.
“Almost a year, I think,” said Corey, heading toward the cabinet where our riding gear was stored.
“We’ve got to take a break from work.”
“Not until we’ve got this project back under control,” said Corey, proceeding to put on a jacket. “We’re still behind schedule.”
“I know,” I muttered, pulling on my leather gloves.
Within minutes, we were ready to go.
The feel of leather against my skin felt incredibly good, reminding me of the rush that came with riding my bike. Climbing onto my baby, I rode behind Corey as he navigated through the rows of cars to reach the exit gate.
We both speeded up once we left the estate, rushing toward the area where Milla and Noah were last seen. There was barely any traffic during these late hours, so we were able to go at top speed.
We reached the area on Elkhorn Road within twenty minutes.
“That’s Noah’s car,” Corey shouted, coming to a stop.
Lifting the visor of my helmet, I took a closer look.
The car’s doors were thrown open, as if both Noah and Milla were forced to rush out of it. Something odd definitely took place here. There was no way they’d abandon their car like that in the middle of the street and not even bother to lock the doors.
Getting off our bikes, Corey and I inched toward the car.
A quick look inside the car showed everything to be perfectly fine. There was no sign of damage anywhere.
“I don’t think they got into an accident,” said Corey.
“No, but what do you think made them run out of their cars and not even lock it?”
“Maybe they didn’t have the time to do that. Maybe they were running away from something...or someone.”
My phone buzzed against my chest. Taking it out, I looked at the caller ID.
“Hey, Murray,’ I answered.
“Are you there yet?” Murray asked.
