Chapter 2

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His boots crunched gravel and sand and then squelched into mud as he pelted toward the van. It had gone nearly thirty yards off the highway, into the marshy field beyond. The van had churned up two deep tracks the further it went, and its tires were three inches deep where it stopped.

Bucky's passage through the long grass stirred up mosquitos and clouds of midges, which circled him, surprised but nonetheless bloodthirsty.

His arm and his gun glinted black in the morning sun, and his shadow stretched out to his left.

He abruptly rounded the end of the van and sighted from left to right.

Empty.

But blood. Good God—his heart went into overdrive for a moment—but then he processed the smell of wet spray paint. Scrawled inside, with red paint, Houston.

Houston? That's where Sam was supposed to be today. Bucky circled the van, examining even as he thought it through.

No sign of weapons or bombs.

The president was making a speech at the University of Houston. Raising support for the WHU—Western Hemisphere Union. It wasn't exactly what the Flag Smashers had wanted, but it certainly wasn't what the GRC wanted either.

Several dents on the rear doors. Possibly from Sarah kicking wildly?

But the Flag Smashers were defunct and the GRC wouldn't gain by kidnapping someone.

He turned and scanned the ground around the van. Booted feet had bent and crushed weeds into a rough path. About ten yards farther one, there were two long depression where the weeds were crushed and the boot tracks disappeared.

A flipping helicopter.

This was well-planned and well-funded, if he'd had any doubt before.

Two squad cars had pulled to a stop on the highway (another part of Bucky's mind had noted this and temporarily disregarded it).

Now he spun to the two deputies coming towards him. "They got on a helicopter. Possibly to Houston for today's event. Get the chief to contact the head of police in Nola and Houston and the FBI office there."

Bucky called Cass and put his phone to his ear as he circled the van again, looking for any more clues.

No keys in the ignition. No paper in the glove compartment except a car manual. Mud on the floor, but that wasn't very helpful.

When Cass picked up, Bucky could hear men in the background.

"The police are here," Cass told him. "And I told Uncle Sam what happened, he's on his way. Is Mom... Did you find her yet?"

Bucky swallowed an urge to punch the van as hard as he could. "Not yet, buddy. But we found the van. You described it perfectly. They took her in a chopper, but we'll find them soon. I'm gonna do everything I can to have her home by tonight, okay, Cass? We're going out on the boat."

"You promise?"

Bucky swallowed. "Well. No, I can't promise, and I won't ever lie to you. But, when I say I will do everything I can, that is no small thing, okay? Between your uncle and me, we're going to figure this out."

The cop came around and waved a phone, pointing from it to Bucky.

"I got to go," Bucky said. "I'll check in as soon as I can."

"Okay. Love you, Uncle Bucky."

Bucky paused and pressed a hand to his mouth for a moment. "Love you too, kid. Bye."

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