A blast of breaking branches announced the presence of someone trampling through the brush. She watched as a man stepped into the small clearing, a wicked knife gripped in one hand, another hiding in a sheath strapped to his leg, a rifle secured across his back, and a dark smile dancing around his eyes as he held one finger up against his lips, shaking his head back and forth in warning.

Sobs ripped from her throat, and she closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the knife, praying her death would be quick and easy. She didn’t want to go like her father. Please, just shoot me.

She had no idea if her plea was only in her head or if she uttered it out loud.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Tuesday, October 8

The day had been interminably long already, and it wasn’t over yet. Alyssa rubbed her tired eyes and squinted at the clock, only mildly surprised that the time had already bumped past seven and was climbing closer to seven-forty. It hardly seemed possible that only this morning, she and Cord were in Creede, Colorado.

She shoved guilt aside and sent a message to Brock that she wouldn’t be home until late. He responded with his usual:

Don’t forget to eat. If I’m asleep when you get home, wake me. I love you.

She shot off a quick reply:

Love you back. Promise to make it up to you and Isaac when things settle.

She added a heart emoji, hit send, and then set her phone aside. Before texting Brock, she’d called Holly to check in and to see if she’d received any more threatening notes. She hadn’t, but Alyssa’s tension didn’t ease at the sickening thought that someone twisted, possibly from The Toybox case, was currently targeting her daughter. But right now, Holly was safe, surrounded by friends, and so, at least for this moment, she pushed aside her fear so she could concentrate on the grave matter of locating Addis and Emerson.

Transferring her focus to the sea of evidence, crime scene photos, and interview records, she willed them to unlock their secrets and reveal the link that would bust this case wide open so she could bring the girls home.

The one-week mark was biting at their heels, reminding her that she and her team still had no viable leads and no real suspects aside from a woman who had seemingly beamed herself off the planet following Hayden Benson’s disappearance, which in and of itself sent up enough red flags to lift a ship. Just thinking about how the Del Luna police department handled – or didn’t handle – the Benson case made her want to spit nails. Disgusted, she thrust an open file away from her, causing dozens of loose pages to flutter in the air and land haphazardly on the floor and table.