The dark, evil threat lurking below the surface of the photograph of Holly, Sophie, Rachel, and Jersey was enough to lodge Alyssa’s heart in her throat every single time her eyes landed on it. The girls were lounging on the field near the dormitories, heads thrown back in laughter. A caption had been placed above Jersey and Rachel’s image: The Toybox misses you. And above Holly and Sophie’s: The Toybox wants you.

The thought of anyone having to endure that twisted den of sexual deviancy was enough to send Alyssa into a mental tailspin, but the idea that it could be her daughter… she couldn’t allow her head to go there. Whoever was threatening Holly – immediately, and against her will, Tony flashed into her mind – would have to go through her and her entire team first, not to mention Brock, Mabel, Nick, and even Isaac and probably Trevor.

She was fighting the internal battle between waiting for or waking Holly when her daughter snatched the decision from her by jerking open the door. Standing there with bedhead, in sweats, fuzzy socks, and a sweatshirt, she barely glanced at Nick before focusing on her mother. ‘What the hell is going on?’ And then her eyes drifted down to the envelope clutched in Cord’s hand, and she knew.

Yet her stubborn, mule-headed daughter still refused to pack up her bag and come home until they got to the bottom of things. Not wanting to leave her friends was her first excuse, and Alyssa told her they could go, too. In the end, she couldn’t force Holly to do what she didn’t want to do, but that didn’t mean Alyssa had to be happy about it, either. Which is why she shot laser-sharp glares over her shoulder until Holly closed and bolted the door behind her.

‘I’ve gotta tell you, Cord, I’m pretty sick and tired of people targeting my kids.’

‘You and me both.’ Together, they stood on the sidewalk, hesitant to leave until Cord suddenly stiffened. ‘Look.’ He pointed to a security camera across the street on one of the other houses.

Without considering the time, the two of them raced to the house and pounded on the door until a groggy man with glasses askew answered. Alyssa flashed her badge and asked if the man’s camera worked, explaining the urgent need to check it out. She was relieved when he ushered them in and brought up the footage on his computer.

The clock in the corner flashed the date and time. It was six minutes past eleven when an old truck parked three houses down, and someone with a baggy hoody obscuring his face snuck onto the side of Holly’s house and secured the envelope beneath the rocking chair.