While Ryan continued to ramble on about their situation, Justin finished putting the device together and clicking the mic twice to indicate it was all clear. He blocked out Ryan’s droning and concentrated on any sounds coming from the fog. He heard the engines starting up and smiled. They were approaching at a slow speed, which helped reduce the noise, but Justin knew that if he could hear the engines, then so could the kidnappers. He focused on what other sounds he could hear and there was nothing. The crickets, frogs, and night birds were silent. The lapping of the water along the shore was the only other sound besides the engines on the boats. Even Ryan had shut up.
The second the thought crossed his mind, Justin whirled around, drawing his pistol.
A large dark figure was standing behind Ryan, with one arm across his chest to hold him still and the other pressing a knife against his throat. Justin couldn’t make out who this dark figure was visually—but when he heard the man speak, his voice made a shiver run down Justin’s spine.
“Mr. O’Keefe talks too much.”
“Sorry, Justin.” Ryan was struggling to get the words out. “He came out of nowhere, an—”
The knife touched Ryan’s throat, and he went silent.
“Like I said,” the man behind him reiterated, “he talks too much.”
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