spotting Sterling parking his car.
I drive closer, and after I park my car right next to his, I text Bradley her phone number.
“We find her and bring her home,” he simplifies it.
“How are you doing it? You said you’re from the Northwestern part of the country. It’s going to take you hours to reach her. I should call the police.”
He exhales. “Fuck, why aren’t you like all the other rich bastards who hire us and stay out of it? Let us do our jobs.”
I didn’t fucking hire him. Maybe I should’ve and then he’d be more helpful.
“Look, I’m in town. We had a breakthrough. My team and the equipment arrived this afternoon. We have been working around the clock.”
“Then, how the fuck did you let this happen?” I bang my hand against the wheel.
Closing my eyes, I summon a deep breath, holding it in. Turning my head a fraction, I look blindly skyward praying for a miracle and the strength to get me through this.
“We got Corbin. He’s in custody. The son wasn’t with him as I had hoped. He’s off the grid. A ghost. We know he exists, but he’s been hiding for years. His father destroyed his records when he was eleven and the mother died. Our best bet is hacking Corbin’s phone to locate him. Which I’m working on as we speak.”
I understand what he’s saying. Some parents keep their children hidden for years or decades while they use them—or torture them. There’s no record of me before the police raided the house where I lived. God knows where I’d be if the police hadn’t found me and gotten me into the hands of the Aherns.
Thinking of my past sparks an idea. “What if he took Abby to their old house?”
“That’s a possibility, but please, don’t do anything stupid,” he roars. It’s an order, a warning. “I’ll call you in a few minutes.”
My heart is about to explode as the anxiety increases. If only I knew where to go … it has to be the house in Thornton.
Once the line goes dead, I go back to Abby’s call. There’s nothing on the other side. It’s scarily quiet.
“What happened?” Sterling asks, jogging toward me.
I begin to tell him what I know. With every word he turns paler and his body trembles. My phone rings. Unknown number.
“Yeah?” I exhale, grasping the phone as if it’s my lifeline.
“My team is ready to go. We’re thirty minutes south of downtown and about forty-five from her.”
I calculate the timing, and if I’m right, she’s in her old house. They’re close, but not close enough. My head throbs. This can’t be happening. There’s a loud rushing in my ears and my limbs have gone numb. She doesn’t deserve to suffer. Fuck. She already went through so much shit. We should’ve stayed in Tahoe for a month but I … I’ve got to stop thinking about what I could’ve done to prevent this.
“She could be dead by then.” I suck in a breath, purse my lips hard, and get back in the car.
When I turn on the engine, the Bluetooth picks up the call with Abby. My stomach drops when I hear them.
“I thought you liked it when I begged,” Abby’s voice is forceful, even courageous.
“Shut up!” I freeze when I hear a punch. I draw in a long breath, my heart beats fast, and nausea hits the back of my throat.
“I’ll break every bone in your body. When I’m done with you, your boyfriend won’t recognize you. No one will claim you.”
“You’ll beg for your life,” the asshole continues. I cry in helplessness gripping the phone. “For mercy. But not until I say so. Dad has to be here. He wants to finish what he started. In the meantime, I can do whatever I want.”
Tears stream down my face when I hear her whimper in pain.
“Let’s play five little piggies. This little piggy went to market.” he chants.
There’s a loud bang, and I hear her muffled cries.
“Where you’re going, you won’t need that finger,” he laughs. “You’re paying for fucking with my life, for killing my sister.”
“This little piggy stayed home,” he chants, and she screams. “Wait, I got that wrong. But don’t worry, we have eight more fingers, ten toes and then I’ll move on to your legs … maybe even your face.”
“In case you’re wondering, Peyton is at home. Across the street waiting for me. She’s my girl and works for me. Her job is to meet people. Clients or children