Intense

“Easton,” he said. “Come on back.”

The desk sergeant helped me up and walked me back. I gave him a big smile and he just ignored me.

“These cuffs?” I asked.

“Take them off yourself,” the sergeant said and then walked away.

I grunted and walked into Sloan’s office, sitting down in front of his desk.

Sloan stared at me, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“He has her, Sloan. He has her.”

“Slow down now. We don’t know he has anybody.”

“Can you take these cuffs off?”

“No. You punched a cop. Why didn’t you just call me?”

I shrugged. “I needed to see you now.”

“Well, here I am. You think the killer has her?”

“I know he does.”

“Tell me why.” He held up his hands as soon as he saw the frustration on my face. “Please understand me, Easton. You come in here yelling and punching people. You need to give me a reason to help you. I want to, but you seem a little unhinged.”

I took a deep breath, getting myself together. “Okay. Listen.”

And then I told him about the badge. I told him about my office being tossed over, and I told him about the missing pictures. I told him that I had made sure Laney wouldn’t leave the house, and how the front door was left ajar when I had gotten home. I told him about her phone going to voicemail.

“You have to see,” I said. “It’s all been a personal message to me. And now he took her.”

Sloan nodded slowly. “I see what you’re saying.”

“So then help.”

“Why the badge?” he asked.

“The badge? Fuck the badge, Sloan.”

He just leaned back in his chair. “The badge seems odd. How did the killer even get it?”

I narrowed my eyes. I hadn’t thought of that before. It was odd that the killer had the badge; as far as I knew, only Martin’s family had it.

The realization jolted me physically. I was suddenly both elated and incredibly sad as I realized who I was hunting and why it was all happening.

“Easton, we don’t know he has her,” Sloan was saying, but I barely heard. “She could have left on her own, decided she didn’t want to be involved with a murder investigation.”

My mind was spinning, moving through the possibilities.

“Why not tell her parents then?” I asked, halfhearted.

Sloan just shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You’re kidding me.” I felt like I was in a nightmare.

“Sorry, kid. We need more time before we know if she’s really gone or not.”

“She’ll be dead by then.”

“I doubt it.”

I stared at him for half a minute, too surprised to feel anger. Finally, I held out my hands. Sloan sighed. “Rick,” he yelled.

The desk sergeant came in.

“Take off the cuffs,” Sloan said.

Rick walked over and unlocked the cuffs. “Asshole,” he muttered.

I smiled nicely at him and stood. “Please change your mind, Sloan. You’re going to have another body in your hands soon.”

“Maybe we will. But come back when you have something more concrete.”

I turned and left the station without looking back.

The cops had let me down. The fucking police had failed. They were too slow, too unwieldy.

But not me. I was going to find her. I wasn’t going to let some psychopath fucking hurt Laney.

I finally knew who I was hunting. The whole time it had been staring me right in the face. Someone close, but not too close. Someone that hated me personally. It was so clear it hurt.

Nobody was going to get hurt because of me ever again.

25

Laney

My head is swimming when I finally regained consciousness.

At first I thought I was blind. The room was pitch black, and it took me a second to understand that I couldn’t see because there was no light.

No light. Anywhere.

Groggy, I began to mentally check my body. I wasn’t in pain, or at least not bad pain. My whole self felt achy and my head was pounding, but it was nothing life-threatening.

I tried to move but couldn’t. I reached up with my fingers and found that I was chained, wrists together, hands above my head. My back was leaning up against a cold wall, maybe stone, but I wasn’t sure.

I tried to call out, but nothing came. My voice was a scratchy croak, barely a whisper, certainly not my own.

The fear hadn’t hit me yet, fortunately. I was still thinking very analytically, very seriously. I couldn’t see and my hands were chained, but my legs felt like they were free. I tried shifting my weight and pushing my legs forward, but they hit what felt like metal bars only a foot away.