Mason’s brain had slowed to a crawl to process the facts as Zander talked in his ear. Mentally he rounded up all his emotions and shoved them into a closet, barking questions at Zander as he grabbed his keys and got in his vehicle. He needed to focus.

The drive across town had taken forever.

Mason stepped through the convenience store door and spotted Ray and Zander talking with several Portland police officers and an older woman in jeans. The group turned and stared as he approached. Ray slapped him on the shoulder as he joined the group, and Zander nodded at him. Ray lived closer to the location. He’d been Mason’s first call when he got off the phone with Zander.

“What the fuck happened?” Mason asked the group.

The older woman sniffed. “You must be the boyfriend. Thought you’d be younger.”

Mason saw red. His vision zoomed in on her nametag. “Dot,” he said through clenched teeth. “Kindly repeat for me what you’ve told these gentlemen.”

She glanced at the other cops. “The woman said she was law enforcement, but I didn’t believe her. Customers tell me that all the time, and after that I was watching her like a hawk. Makes me uncomfortable when people ask if I’m the only one working in the store.”

Mason nodded. Get on with it.

“Like I told these guys. I didn’t recognize the picture of a woman she showed me. And she was getting a cup of coffee, and I assume was about to leave when that couple came in the door. I’ve helped him before. He’s an ass. Buys cigarettes. Always wants four books of matches. How many matches does it take to smoke a pack?” She shook her head in disgust. “Anyway, he pulled a knife on the woman who’d come in with him and was telling the FBI agent to stay away when another guy came hollerin’ through the door. The first guy split and his woman went screeching after him, leaving your agent and the second guy staring at each other. I’m thinking it’s all over, but then he socks her in the face and she goes down like a brick. He slings her over his shoulder and leaves. That’s when I called you guys.”

“You see him drive away?”

Dot shook her head. “I didn’t step out of the store after he left. I was shakin’ like a leaf.”

“Video?” Mason asked Zander.

Zander nodded. “Yep. We were just about to take a look.”

“No one in the neighborhood saw him leave? He had a body slung over his shoulder. Didn’t that stand out to anyone?” Mason asked, scanning faces.

“We’ve got guys doing a canvass,” said one of the Portland police sergeants. “But if he ducked around the side of the store to the back, there are alleyways and shortcuts between all the homes and businesses. He could have avoided most eyes. We’re still searching the area and knocking on doors.”

“Jesus Christ.” Mason wiped at his forehead.

“We’ll find her, Mase,” Ray stated. “She’s tough. He’ll have to be on his toes to get away from Ava unscathed.”

“I’ve got the video running,” said a plainclothes detective from the door at the back of the room. “There’s only room for a few back here.”

Zander pointed at Mason, Ray, Dot, and the sergeant. “Us first.”

One of the uniforms started to speak, but Zander cut him off. “That’s our agent missing.” He led the group to the back and Mason followed, his gaze momentarily caught by the sight of a familiar bag in the hands of an evidence technician. “Wait.” He stopped and reached for the bag. The woman backed up, keeping the bag away from his touch.

“Evidence, sir,” she said politely.

Mason froze, staring at Ava’s black bag. Ray put a hand on his shoulder and propelled him forward. “Later. There’s nothing there you need.”

He followed the group. Nothing I need? His fingers needed to touch Ava; if they couldn’t touch his woman, then they needed to touch something of hers. It felt like she was just beyond his grasp, and he needed to grab hold of something to keep her safe.

Like touching her bag will keep him from harming her?

If that man did anything more to hurt her. . .

Stabbing pains ripped through his stomach, and he wanted to strangle someone. Instead he quietly followed in line while his brain screamed for Ava’s return. He felt Ray’s gaze on him. He glanced at his partner, hating the pity in his eyes. “I’m all right,” he muttered.

“It looked like you were going to knock down that poor tech and steal the bag,” Ray said. “I don’t blame you. I’d be out of my head if something happened to Jill. I’d be ready to murder someone.”

“Not promising I won’t,” said Mason. They squeezed into a microscopic office in the stockroom. “Office” was a generous word. There was a desk, a chair, a million unorganized sheets of paper, and an ancient computer. Mason stared at the screen.

A silent, grainy black-and-white movie played out. Mason watched as Ava walked in, spoke with the clerk, splattered coffee on her shirt, and tried to clean it up. In his mind he could hear her swearing at the mess. Jayne and Derrick Snyder entered. The camera angle showed the back of Ava’s head as she looked at the two, but Mason could read her shock in the tilt of her head and stiff shoulders. Jayne had colored her hair, he noted. No more platinum blond. Jayne had started to rush toward Ava when Derrick yanked her back and put the knife at her neck.

Snyder must have been worried Ava would arrest him. Mason watched stone-faced as Snyder used Jayne as a shield to start to back out of the store. Coward. A large man moved in and Mason noticed Snyder nearly wet his pants at the sight of the big guy. Both Snyder and Jayne took off like they’d seen the devil himself.