Page 71 of Freeing Lark

Flint’s expression changed. “The island in Bell Creek?”

“Yes.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Voodoo asked.

“They could be using it as a waystation,” Flint replied.

Baker nodded slowly. “Possible.”

Hoot’s phone vibrated. He’d silenced it when they’d entered the conference room, as always. Another vibration. Then another.

Haley looked up from her laptop and spat out a tangle of curses. “Jester’s here.”

Hoot frowned. “What?”

“He just sent me a message.” She read it. “He’s telling you to check your phone.”

Hoot pulled it from his pocket. His stomach dropped. Three missed calls. All from Marilyn.

Jeeves was looking at his own phone. “Cammie’s called me twice.”

Hoot’s thumb hit Marilyn’s number. She answered almost immediately. “Cormac?” The panic in her voice made his chest tighten.

“What happened?”

“It’s Lark.”

Every muscle in his body locked. “What about her?”

“She went to the island this morning.”

Hoot stood. “Why?”

“She said she wanted to finish working on the bell before the storm.” Hoot glanced toward the windows. Rain had begun hammering the glass. “She’s not back.”

His blood ran cold. “How long?”

“She should have been home hours ago.”

“Did you call her?”

“Of course I did. Nothing.”

Hoot’s mind immediately went to the river. A kaleidoscope of thoughts rushed through his head. None of them good. The storm. The crate. The break-in. PSG. Lark.

Marilyn continued. “I thought maybe the boat got loose again. I wondered if you could⁠—”

“I’m going.” He hung up. Flint was already standing. He didn’t need to say anything. Their eyes met. Flint gave one sharp nod. Hoot was moving before the gesture was complete. He ran for the door. Behind him, Voodoo shouted something. He didn’t hear it.

The uneasy feeling that had been sitting in his gut all morning had suddenly become something much worse. Dread. Cold and absolute.

Lark was on that island. A storm was bearing down on Bell Creek. And if the men who’d broken into her store had anything to do with the crate, the symbol, or PSG...

She wasn’t simply stranded. She was in danger. Hoot hit the door at a run. And for the first time in his life, he prayed Bullet had been wrong.

CHAPTER 22

Fear was there. Of course it was. It sat cold and heavy in Lark’s stomach as the man dragged her through the brush with a gun pressed against her back.