Don't Let Go by Michelle Gagnon

Author:Michelle Gagnon [Gagnon, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-08-29T23:19:32+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

“Oh, crap,” Peter said, running both hands through his hair. “What the hell?”

Noa stared at the photos of them on-screen. Peter’s was a school portrait; he looked younger, with that persistent lock of hair nearly covering one eye. He gazed into the camera with a cocky grin, looking self-assured and confident.

Hers was less formal. She was wearing headphones and looking down. Her hair was cropped short, and she had on her favorite scarf. She’d bought it last September, so the picture must have been taken then, before she was kidnapped.

By the people stalking me, she realized. Pike’s people.

“This is not good,” Peter said grimly.

Noa forced herself to focus on what the news anchor was saying: something about a murder in Colorado, and the discovery of a sleeper cell in an old missile silo. “Wait,” she said. “Murder?”

Another image replaced their faces on-screen: Loki against a hazy blue background, probably from his driver’s license. He stared challengingly out at them, his mouth set in a firm line, the beard consuming most of his face. His ever-present trucker cap was gone, revealing thinning brownish-gray hair.

“Loki didn’t make it,” Peter said flatly. “Those bastards killed him, and now they’re blaming us.”

The anchor’s bland voice was saying, “. . . Matan Maoz was found dead by authorities who raided the compound this afternoon. The state police believe that Maoz was killed by his co-conspirators before they fled. Numerous bombs and bomb-making materials were found in this former missile silo, purchased by Maoz in 2007. While the police refuse to discuss which terrorist organization might be responsible, an anonymous source revealed that these two teenagers are persons of interest. A nationwide manhunt is currently under way for Noa Torson and Peter Gregory. They are to be considered armed and dangerous; authorities stress that if you see them, please call the tip line immediately. Do not under any circumstances attempt to make contact with them.”

“Anonymous sources, my ass,” Peter snorted. He pushed off the couch and started to pace. “Those bastards are framing us.”

“Poor Loki.” A well of emotion rose up, nearly choking Noa. He’d fought to give them a chance to get away, and now he was gone. Sometimes it seemed like everyone who tried to help her ended up dead.

Loki’s photo vanished, replaced by footage of state police cruisers parked in front of the gate to his compound. The news anchor prattled on about bomb-sniffing dogs and robots being brought in to search the site.

Then the camera cut to a living room, where a well-dressed middle-aged couple sat on a couch. Peter collapsed in a chair, as if his legs had buckled beneath him.

“What?” Noa asked, alarmed.

“Those are my parents,” he croaked.

Noa shifted her attention back to the screen. The resemblance was clear: Peter had his mother’s brown, wavy hair, and his father’s eyes and nose. His parents looked tired, and agitated. They sat in a gorgeous living room: Everything looked insanely expensive. This must be where Peter used to live, the house he’d grown up in.

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