Intense

He grabbed me, throwing me back against the counter.

“Stop! Who are you?” I screamed.

“Sorry, Laney,” he said in a singsong. “You can blame your stepbrother for this.”

Dark, freezing chills settled in the pit of my stomach.

I knew it was him. I just knew. It couldn’t be anyone else.

I tried to run again, but he hit me. Stars flashed into my vision as his fist smashed into my head. I grunted and stumbled.

He laughed. Sick and loud, he laughed.

“Laney, Laney. He isn’t here, so don’t struggle.”

“He’s going to get you,” I said.

He kicked me in the stomach.

“Good,” he hissed. “I hope he finds me soon.”

The last thing I remembered was a rag being shoved against my face.

24

Easton

My tires screamed, burning rubber as I turned into the driveway of our house. I threw the car in park and jumped out, leaving it running, not thinking about anything but Laney.

My heart nearly fell from my chest when I saw the door was left standing slightly ajar.

I held my gun tightly as I pushed the door open.

“Laney?” I called out.

Only silence in response.

I moved through the house, room by room, clearing each space. With each new empty spot, the silence kept screaming back at me, louder and louder.

Finally, I collapsed onto her bed, staring down at my hands.

Laney was gone.

I pulled out my phone and called her cell. It rang and then went to voicemail. I tried it again, but this time voicemail picked up immediately.

Almost like someone had shut off her phone.

I called her father next.

“Alan?” I asked when I finally got through his secretary.

“Easton, what’s going on?”

“Have you seen Laney?”

“No. Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Just tracking her down.”

I could hear the concern in his voice. “Okay. Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure,” I said and hung up.

I called Susan next, but she said the exact same thing.

I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want it to be true.

But the fact was, Laney was missing. She was gone. I had expressly told her not to leave the house without me for any reason, and I knew she wouldn’t do it. I knew she wasn’t dumb enough to leave the front door open.

I stood up and went into action mode. I left the house, got back into my car, and floored it toward the Sheriff’s office.

Fifteen minutes later and at least one blown red light, I parked out front and jumped out. I stormed in through the front door.

The guy sitting at the desk was a bored sergeant that would have rather been anywhere else, but he was stuck on duty. Probably the worst day possible, too, since I was on the fucking warpath.

“You,” I said to him. “Get me Sloan.”

He raised a lazy eyebrow. “Who are you, sir?”

“Easton Wright.”

“Okay. The Sheriff is busy.” He looked back down at his newspaper.

Anger boiled up through my veins. I grabbed the paper from his hands and threw it on the floor. “Listen to me, you dumb desk monkey,” I growled. “Get Sloan and get him now. My fucking sister is missing.”

Needless to say, the sergeant didn’t respond well to that. He stood up, one hand on his pepper spray, his face deadly serious. All eyes in the office were suddenly on us, and I realized that I was surrounded by fucking cops.

“Sir,” he said, “you need to calm down right now.”

“Get me Sloan, you brainless fuck. My stepsister could be dead right now. We need to find her.”

“Who took your stepsister?”

“The fucking serial killer.” I wanted to break his idiot nose, snap his thick-headed limbs. “Get. Me. Sloan.”

The guy stared at me for a second, and I thought he was finally hearing reason. Instead, two other cops came over.

“You need to leave, sir,” the sergeant said.

“Fucking assholes.” I stepped forward and cracked the sergeant in the nose. His head snapped back and I saw blood.

I was on the ground in half a second.

I felt more than one boot hit me in the stomach as the cops piled on me.

The office was a fucking madhouse. I doubted anyone had ever had the balls to punch the desk sergeant in the face, much less break his nose. But they didn’t know me.

Soon enough, I was up on a bench, aching from a ton of different blows and in cuffs.

“You dumb fucks,” I yelled. “She could be dead right now.”

The cops just eyed me. The sergeant flipped me off, holding an ice pack to his face. His eyes were already turning black.

They held me there for fifteen agonizing minutes before Sloan finally came out of his office.