Three, Two, One (321)

But what I found was JD. And Ray.

Ray knew there was a shake-up in Miami and that’s why I had to leave. He knew I killed people. He knew I was in something big. But everyone who knew me was dead by the time I bailed, so who could he ask? Who was left to point their finger and say, That’s Jacob Barlow and he’s a rat?

No one.

That’s not how Denver will end, that’s for sure.

“And we got another lead too.”

Jax is still talking. A reminder of what we’re up against. Crime pays, I know that now. It pays too well for it to ever go away. We’re never going to find the people who killed Michael, even if we do find the assassin.

Because these criminals are no one and everyone all at the same time.

“A girl. She escaped ten years ago and she got out. But she knows things, Jake. She knows more than anyone we’ve ever had access to before. You hear me? She knows all the things, and that’s who I was prepping in Nebraska.”

I calm down a little. Because maybe. Just maybe—

“We’re raiding homes in ten states right now. We’ve already found the records for the Denver sting, Jake—”

“We got them all? The parents who bought the kids too?”

“We’ve got hundreds of names. We’ll find the one you’re looking for.”

And this puts one shattered piece of my heart back together. It’s a small piece. Just a little sliver of hope. Hope that I can still do right by JD. Fix him. And that JD will finally be free of his mistake.

I hug my brother.

“We’ll find her,” Jax repeats. “I promise.”

Two Years Later

The bookstore is full of people, a fact that has had my stomach fluttering for hours. I don’t like attention and I hate crowds.

My publicist can read my mind these days, because she places a hand on my arm. “Zoey, you’re gonna be so great.” She gives me a warm smile and I give her a weak one back.

“Why did I agree to this?” I whisper.

She just stares at me, then shrugs. “I don’t know, Zoey. I was surprised myself. But you’re here, and it’s fine. Just read your story the way you wrote it. They’re fans. They’re gonna love you. They already love you. They just want to hear you tell the story, get an autograph, and take a picture.”

Here is The Neighborhood Bookstore in Brooklyn Heights. That’s why I said yes. But now that it’s real, I feel like I might vomit. I scan the crowd, looking for Ark. Does he follow my life the way I follow his? Does he know I’m here? Will he come listen to me talk? Or stand in line to get a book signed?

My daydream is stupid and pathetic. It borders on sad.

In the two years since we parted that night, I have not even heard Ark’s voice. Why would he show up now?

The store manager steps up to a small podium. She is thrilled. This is a medium-sized independent bookstore, but the crowd today is more people than they’ve seen in… well, ever. She taps on the microphone a few times and then clears her voice. “Ladies and gentlemen.” She takes a long breath. “I’m so excited to introduce to you one of today’s best new authors. You probably first heard of her from the headlines years ago when she went missing. But she was not kidnapped, as we had all feared. She was writing.” The manager, whose name I don’t remember because I’m too nervous to think of anything but Ark right now, turns and beams at me. “And what a book, huh?”

The audience claps. The roar echoes off the high white ceilings of the store.

I take a deep, deep breath.

“What a book,” the manager repeats, trying to stop the applause so she can continue. “Filled with hope, and love.” She pauses and places a hand over her heart. “And the most perfect happily-ever-after ending I’ve ever read. I hope that wasn’t a spoiler for anyone!”

The audience laughs. Everyone has read the book.

I’ve been on the New York Times bestsellers list for almost two months. Almost a million copies sold in that time. I’ve been accused of plotting my disappearance in order to sell books. And while that’s crazy, considering what really happened to me when I was away ‘writing’, it’s still got a bit of truth to it. Because the only reason I wrote this book after JD killed himself and Ark was hauled away by the FBI was to find my way back again. I need to know if it was all a lie. Did Ark ever love me?

I pulled every string I could to get my story out there. I used my father. I used my disappearance. I used my Columbia contacts. I used anything and everyone I could. All for the fame. So that one person would notice me again.

My publicist puts a hand on my shoulder once more, reading my sadness as nerves and trying to give me encouragement.

“So without further ado, I’m thrilled to introduce Zoey Marshall, author of the number one New York Times-bestselling romantic suspense, Three, Two, One.”

She claps her hands too close to the microphone and it creates a thunderous boom before she steps aside to make room for me.

I take another deep, deep breath and walk forward. “Thank you,” I say into the microphone. I desperately search the crowd for Ark, but even though the place is packed, there’s no way to miss the fact that he is not here. “I’d like to read a passage from my book, if that’s OK.” Chuckles all around. It’s why I’m here, right? “It’s my favorite part. And it’s a dialog scene between Ark and Blue.”

A woman in the front row actually sighs.