our backyard in Illinois, and a presence told me I would be abducted three days before my fifteenth birthday, held in a dark place, and then killed on the day I turned fifteen.”
“What does that mean?” Price asked. “What kind of presence?”
“That night,” Sun continued without answering him, “I dreamed about the abduction, and I’ve had the same dream several times a year since. In my dream, I am taken by a man I don’t know. I try to fight him, but I can’t. For some reason, my arms and legs feel like they’re made of sand. No matter how hard I try, I can’t make them work right.”
Sun paused to catch her breath as a wave of anxiety washed over her.
“We’ve all had dreams like this,” Anita said.
“More like nightmares.” Salazar, clearly buying into every word, shivered.
Fighting to keep her distress to herself, Sun continued, “My birthday is important to him. I don’t know why, but he wants me to die on the day I was born.
“When my parents told me we were moving to New Mexico, I was so happy. I hoped that by moving to Del Sol, the threat would go away. Instead, the dreams have been getting stronger.
“I started keeping a diary, hoping to get new clues, but I really only see the same thing over and over again. Snow and trees and rocks. I wake up once when he’s carrying me and that’s what I see, so I think he’s keeping me in the mountains.
“I wish I could see his face more clearly. I’m blindfolded most of the time, and I can’t focus when I’m not. All I can tell you is that he is thin but strong, and he has dark hair but light skin. And I think I scratched him, so if you find my body, be sure to check under my nails for DNA.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be crude, but you need to know this isn’t sexual. He never touches me. Not like that. But he calls me Syb. Like my dad. Like he has a right to call me by my nickname.
“I can hear water underneath me. He keeps me in a small room like a shed, and it’s cold, and I think I’m going to die from the cold, but I don’t. I don’t die until he strangles me on my birthday. I fight and kick and claw, but he always wins because nothing works right and everything moves in slow motion.”
Sun’s vision blurred while reading the next line.
“It takes me a long time to die.”
She stopped when she realized she was shaking visibly. Quincy knelt beside her, but she pulled away from him, fighting the sting at the backs of her eyes like a cage fighter in a championship match. Her demons were not something her deputies need ever see.
After clearing her throat, she read the last paragraph.
“Please don’t be sad if you don’t find me. According to my dream, you don’t. Nobody does. And I doubt anything will change that, no matter what you do. But I’d be stupid not to try, I guess.
“Sincerely, Sybil St. Aubin
“P.S. Please thank Auri for being my friend for a whole week. I’ve never known anyone like her. We were hoping we would have at least one class together, like first period, but just in case we didn’t, we came up with a way to pass notes to each other like spies sending secret messages. Maybe we can still do that someday. I hope she liked me as much as I liked her.”
Sun forgot how to breathe after she finished the letter. It took her a few minutes to remember how again. She kept reading it over and over as her deputies stood or paced or stared at the floor, waiting for her to take the lead. Waiting for orders. Some way to put a stop to this.
“Are we taking this seriously?” Price asked, breaking first. “I mean, doesn’t this prove that it’s a stunt? No one can predict something like this. Sybil St. Aubin is probably at her boyfriend’s house eating pizza and bingeing on Netflix.”
Quincy pinned him with a scowl. “We have no choice but to take it seriously, Price. Stunt or not, it’s evidence.”
“I find it odd that Marianna said something similar,” Sun said at last. “She kept saying we were running out of time. We had to hurry. Maybe she does believe her daughter, after all.”
“Where do we stand on it?” Quince asked her, his voice