28

“GO!” I ordered, even as I took off running myself.

Donovan took off like a bat out of hell. A shot rang out, and I wasn’t sure if he was trying to warn the guy into stopping or alerting Marc and Gonzalez without pulling out his phone, but the asshat didn’t stop running. I knew the other two would come rushing over, though, and just tried to keep up.

Asshole ran like his life depended on it, but that didn’t really work against Donovan. My Donovan was in excellent shape, and with those long legs of his, not many people could really outrun him.

I think Chad realized this. He did this mid-twist thing that was almost impressive for a second before— bam —wall. Literally, a wall out of nowhere, blocking off the hallway.

Right. Materializer. Of course he was going to throw out magic tricks to block us and get away.

“Oh no you fucking don’t,” Donovan snarled.

Next thing I knew, my fiancé had hopped through one of the smashed-up windows and was right on the man’s tail all over again, having hopped back into the hallway through another window.

Now, I was athletic. That athletic? Uhh…seemed like a poor time to test it. Glass shards and all. Um, I was gonna pass on that one.

I ran back the other direction, for the doorway that led outside, because maybe I could go out that way and around the building. Find another doorway in. Maybe I could even cut him off. Flanking maneuvers for the win! If this worked.

Yes, there was a doorway! Hi, friend, nice to see you.

I dove through it, turned sharply, and started sprinting back the way I’d just come.

Through the windows, I could see Chad throwing up more things, trying to stop Donovan. Netting—which didn’t work since it wasn’t anchored. Donovan just threw it aside and kept going—then a huge bouncy house kind of inflated wall that filled the hallway, which also didn’t work. Donovan shot it twice and it deflated rapidly. He shoved right past the tattered remains without it slowing him down much.

I gave Chad points for creativity. But I also remembered what Francesca had told me. A mid-tier Materializer could only do so many materializations in a day. He’d already done a birthday party earlier today. How much juice did this man still have in him?

Behind me there was the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching, and a quick glance told me it wasn’t the perp somehow magicking himself out of the building. Gonzalez and Marc were racing this way.

“He’s throwing up barriers in the hallway!” I called to them. “Gonzalez, flank!”

“Got it!”

Gonzalez blew right past me.

Look, I was in reasonably good shape. I couldn’t help it these guys were showing me up so easily, okay?

I caught Marc by the arm before he could follow his husband.

“Wait,” I panted. “Wait, he’s trying to draw us away from her.”

Marc stopped, barely breathing hard. His dark eyes were sharp on me. “Really? You sure?”

“It was in his lines, from the brief glance I got on them. He’s running away from her. We need to go in the opposite direction.”

“Well, I trust Donovan to back Javier up, so let’s go find her.” Then he beamed. “Yes! I hoped she was alive, that Grant was right.”

“Me too.” I was relieved for the whole Evans family. “Let’s find her and prove it.”

“I’m all for that.”

“Which buildings did you check out?”

He pointed to the two larger buildings. With no glass on the windows, it was easy to see outside, even though it was growing darker very quickly. “The barn and the…I actually don’t know what it was, but it’s empty as hell. Just one big room with nothing but trash in it. We were heading toward the smaller building when we heard the gunshot.”

The building in question looked like a box, and it was the only one that seemed to have an intact roof. Now that was a strong candidate for stashing a person.

“Let’s go,” I urged.

We quickly left the building through an open doorway and jogged in that direction. I heard more gunshots, but that was likely Donovan or Gonzalez trying to get past some kind of materialized barrier, so I wasn’t too worried.

Marc jogged at my side, but he also had a phone up to his ear. I stayed three feet away to help protect his phone. I knew he’d reported this to the local FBI office before we even came in here. A courtesy call and a heads-up in case we needed backup.

I’d say this situation called for backup.

“This is Agent Gonzalez.” Marc admirably kept his voice calm even while jogging. “I’m at the abandoned Prison Farm. We’ve found our perp, chase is ongoing, shots are being fired. Requesting backup. Yes, sir. Yes, sir, we have a good idea of where she might be. We’re checking that out now. Two are in pursuit of perp. Yes, sir. Thank you. See you soon.”

“They’re coming?”

“They are. ETA about fifteen minutes. Let’s see if we can find her before they get here.”

“I’m all for it.”

The building, now that I was closer to it, seemed to have been the clinic. Bars were still on the windows and probably why the windows were mostly intact, and the roof was still good. No, scratch that—the roof had been repaired. A bit shoddily, like the person who did it was following a tutorial but had no actual experience. Huh.

And lookee there! An intact door.

We were definitely closing in on something . If she wasn’t here, this was at least Chad’s hidey-hole.

The door wasn’t locked, fortunately, and we went right inside. The place was clean. Well, cleaner than the other buildings had been. Some graffiti on the walls, but no feces or broken furniture. Like someone had cleaned it out. Without a doubt Chad’s doing.

The building wasn’t large, maybe six rooms altogether, with some doors missing but others in place. Hmm. Okay, which door was our magic one, then?

From the far end of the hallway came some banging. Sounded like someone kicking at a wooden door, actually.

“That’s her.” Marc sped up and sprinted the rest of the way.

I was right on his heels because he was likely right.

A woman screamed angrily on the other side of the door. “LET ME OUT!”

“Ma’am?” Marc put a hand to the wood. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

A pause, then a broken sob. “Yes. Yes, I can hear you. Who are you?”

“I’m Special Agent Marc Gonzalez, FBI. Are you Tylesia Evans?”

“I AM! Oh my god, you finally found me!”

“We sure did. Hang tight, we’re going to get you out of there.”

I punched a fist into the air, so excited I couldn’t contain myself. We’d all been right. She was alive! Man, there was going to be one hell of a party when I got her home again. I could see it now.

Marc looked around, casting about for something, then groaned. “I’ll have to go back to the car. There’s nothing here to break the door open.”

Well, he was right about that.

Marc turned to hightail it, but I suddenly realized he hadn’t really looked at the lock. The deadbolt faced our direction, like one on a house door would. It kept her in, but it didn’t keep us out.

“Wait, wait, Marc. I think we can just unlock it.”

“Eh?” He turned back, looked it over, then sighed. “I’m an idiot. Jon, do the honors?”

“With pleasure.”

I turned the deadbolt and opened the door, flinging it wide open.

There, in all her survivor’s glory, stood Tylesia Evans. I’d seen many a picture of her, and truthfully, she looked a bit rough. Her hair had grown long enough to become a knotted mess, clearly missing all the hair care routines of the modern world. She looked thinner, too, and she hadn’t had much weight to lose to begin with. Stress and trauma? I certainly couldn’t eat when stressed out. I saw no signs of abuse in her lines, except some malnutrition, which relieved me. Her emotions were running hot and wild. The need for revenge, for freedom, pulsed so strongly I could have seen it from space. I didn’t blame her, either; I’d feel the same in her shoes.

She was alive. The rest of it was just details.

“Tye”—I addressed her as her family did—“I’m Jon. A psychic your brother hired to clear his name and find you. Come with me, please. We’ll get you to safety and let you call home.”

She sucked in a deep breath before nodding vigorously. “Yes. Please. And tell me you’re going to catch that bastard soon.”

“Our partners are already in pursuit,” Marc assured her. “Backup is on the way. This way, please.”

She came readily. I was sure she was sick to death of being in this place. It wasn’t meant to be a prison, being a clinic, but the room was only a ten-by-ten space with a bed, a mini fridge, a TV, and a small bookcase. Ouch. I’d go stir crazy in here.

Tylesia latched on to my hand as we speedwalked out of the building, her eyes roving over me.

“You said Dwayne hired you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That asshole said he was in prison. He gloated about it, how he’d committed the perfect crime and pinned it on Dwayne. I think he was trying to convince me that because he was smarter, I should choose him. You’re telling me my brother isn’t in prison?”

“We appealed two weeks ago,” I explained, watching the relief flood her lines. “He was proven innocent. He’s a free man and hoped we could find you.”

Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. I could tell she was overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions and didn’t blame her one bit. This poor woman had been through hell and back. The fact she was still standing and demanding answers spoke of her resilience.

“Before you lock him up,” she informed us, tone hardening, “I’m going to punch that bastard dead in the face.”

“Frankly, ma’am?” Marc grinned at her. “I’ll testify you did no such thing.”

“Agent, you and me? We’re going to be good friends.”

Could I watch while she punched him? Because I really wanted to see her get some well-deserved revenge.