Capturing Fate (Fatal Truth #2) - Abbie Roads Page 0,2

number, but he might as well have been speaking Dothraki for all the effect it had. Blanton and Havers looked at him like they were having an impromptu staring contest. “If you don’t open the gates I will. After I’ve put a hole the size of a frisbee through you both.”

CO Blanton reached for the button that would start the opening procedure. As soon as the gate shuddered and moved, Dolan took off, but not before CO Havers reached for his radio to make a call. He’d deal with those two later. The priority was to find and immobilize Killion.

Dolan sprinted across the short spans of grass and up onto the back porch of the administration building.

Call for backup. This isn’t safe. Snake slid in faster and faster half circles around Dolan’s neck. You could be walking into a trap, Snake spoke with the same authority as SSA Coleman. Dolan treated Snake’s words the same as he did Coleman’s. He ignored them.

Turning the knob with agonizing slowness, Dolan opened the back door of the admin building and entered.

After six months of clocking in and clocking out and attending mandatory meetings, he was more than a little familiar with the place. Today was Sunday, the only day the regular staff had off.

Isn’t that a bit too convenient?

Dolan nodded in response to Snake’s words. He stood in the old-fashioned kitchen, the sharp tang of stale coffee in the air. He tiptoed across the space and peered out into the grand hallway that ran down the center of the old house.

Twenty feet in front of him, Dr. Payne had his back to Dolan as he held the doors to the conference room shut, although someone on the other side was rattling them, trying to escape.

Dr. Payne suddenly released the doors and jumped out of the way as if he expected an angry grizzly bear to come tearing out of the room.

Dolan raised his rifle, ready to fire, but time skipped a beat as a woman burst out of the conference room. Her eyes rolled around in their sockets, taking in everything, trying to determine where the next threat would come from.

She definitely wasn’t a prison employee. Dolan would’ve recognized her. There was no forgetting her face. She was natural and wholesome in a sweet way that reminded him of cool spring mornings and dewdrops on flowers.

As she ran down the hallway toward the front entrance, away from him, her long ponytail swished from side to side across her back, while the clap of her heels against the wood floor did nothing to conceal the sob that trailed behind her. It was the sound of innocence lost. He knew that sound. Had experienced it himself.

What happened to her? Who hurt her?

There had been no blood. There hadn’t been time for anything like rape, but then at least four minutes had passed. Rape could occur in seconds.

A sizzling energy tore through him as she slammed out the front door and ran down the porch steps and left his field of vision.

He turned his attention back to Dr. Payne. The man sauntered into the conference room, chuckling as he did so. The sound of calm conversation between Dr. Payne and Killion came to him. Calm. Fucking calm after what they did to the woman.

Call for backup. You know where Killion is. The situation is under control. Use the kitchen phone. Text Coleman. You’re walking into a trap. Snake sounded rational, but Dolan wasn’t feeling rational. In fact, he was the exact opposite. He felt irrationally violent. Ready for a fight. Prepared to avenge the wrong done to the woman.

He charged down the hallway, entered the conference room, and aimed his rifle at Killion’s face.

Dr. Payne and Adam Killion were seated as if having a budget meeting or some such normalness. Instead of Dolan’s appearance surprising them, instead of bewilderment, the men wore amused expressions as if the joke was on him. And maybe it was, because there, lying on the table, was a pair of handcuffs and leg shackles.

A gun poked him in the spine.

Damnit. Snake was right. This was a trap.

Two

Daughter Dawson parked her car in the parking lot of Petesville Supermax’s administration building and gaped up at the structure like a tourist instead of a potential employee. It looked like a Victorian mansion and hell’s welcome center had a naughty night resulting in the birth of something startling, stunning, and scary.

Behind the building, the guard towers and razor wire fencing gave off a curses-to-all