The Iron Quill Read Online Free

had passed and, as Wes had told me, I could call the police.
    “Please, Dr. Lyon, you don’t know anything for sure, and if Tim is not telling you anything, how can you be—”
    “Ms. Slone. Please. Give it one more day.”
    “Why?” I half pleaded, half demanded.
    “Because the gentleman I spoke with from Unit 86 assured me that he’d call with any information if he came across it.”
    “So?”
    “So, he wouldn’t offer any help if they didn’t have him. They’re stalling and that’s their way of buying time before they turn him over.”
    “I don’t believe it.”
    “One more day, Ms. Slone. If we make a media headline out of it now, any deal they’re planning to make will disappear. They’re now aware that we know where he is and they’re accountable. Give them time to come up with a solution.”
    I wasn’t sure of anything when it came to secret operation recovery missions. I was clueless, alone, and afraid.
    “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
    “Just wait.”
    That was the last thing I wanted. “And what about you? What are you going to do?”
    “We’re going to talk to Tim again and let him know we made contact with Unit 86 and see if he starts talking. Then we’ll call the Unit again to follow up. At that time, if they don’t give Wes back, safe and unharmed, we’ll threaten to expose their whole operation.”
    “This is killing me. Wes said forty-eight hours.”
    “Give us one more day. We’re close. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but we are. They won’t harm him.”
    The rest of the call was a blur. My mind was twirling and my heart was hurting. I just wanted it to end.
    Without an ounce of energy to think or move, I let myself fall back on the couch and pulled a throw pillow to my chest. Like a baby, I curled up and cried,
again.
    After lying around for the afternoon, I decided that I’d had enough tearful episodes for one lifetime. Then it hit me, this
is
my lifetime, and I don’t know how long it’s going to last. Six months ago, I had no worries. At least not any real ones.
    Before, I’d considered moving too many times as an actual hardship. Now, I knew what it felt like to have something perfect, only to fear losing it every minute of every day.
    The more I thought about what I had gained by knowing Wes, the more angry I got at Andy and Tim for their selfish, misguided plans to bring someone down for their own gain.
    How dare they?
    I sat up and wiped my face and began to think about what needed to be done. Chase knew something, but was too much of a coward to say anything. What had happened to his mojo? He had no problem intimidating me and beating that guy at the fight club to a pulp. Even if he was on some sort of cold-blood drug concoction, his instincts were still there. He was fearless and had no problem picking fights before. So why couldn’t he channel that energy at the real bad guys? Ugh, I wished so badly that he would wise up and help me.
    Even though I hoped for that, I didn’t count on it. That meant I needed to come up with my own plan. This Tim person wasn’t talking to Dr. Lyon, but that didn’t mean
I
couldn’t get him to talk.
    Surely, he hated my guts and no doubt blamed me for his grandfather Andy’s death, but like Andy, he needed me. He wanted to be like Wes, and if I could convince him that I’d give him that, then maybe, just maybe he’d help
me
and not those military people.
    A feeling of purpose started to build within me. It’s not that I didn’t feel worth before, it’s just that when you watch a helicopter come down and scoop up your loved one, you feel pretty useless. But now, I felt like I could actually play a role in getting him back.
    Who else could get close enough to Tim and actually ruffle his feathers? Sure, the whole idea was dangerous and even insane, and Wes would probably FREAK if he thought for a second that I would go and confront Andy’s grandson, but I saw no choice.
    The longer I thought about it, the