He tried not to wonder if anyone had missed him. If anyone was looking for him. Tried not to wonder if this box that was his prison was buried where no one would ever think to look.

He carefully didn’t think of his prison as a coffin.

He had no idea where he was. Maybe no one would think to look for him wherever this was—

He drew a sudden, deep breath of the terrifyingly thin air, his eyes opening to stare incredulously into the heavy darkness as another realization jolted his mind.

Stupid! Stupid!

Simon closed his eyes again and, ignoring the thin, stale air, ignoring numbness and pain and terror, began to concentrate as he never had before.

SEVENTEEN

Nellie Cavendish opened her eyes with a jolt, a wordless cry escaping her, and realized she was sitting up in her bed, that her arms were held out as though reaching for something. She heard a whine, and automatically relaxed enough to stroke the broad head of her anxious dog where he lay near her feet.

“It’s okay, Leo,” she murmured, half closing her eyes again to focus, to reach mentally, psychically, exercising what was still a largely unused muscle. “It’s . . . I think it’s . . .”

Leo whined again, but when she pushed back the covers, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and reached for the lamp and the landline on her nightstand, he was instantly on the floor, watching her with bright eyes.

Nellie quickly punched in a room number, unsurprised when he answered before it could ring twice.

“Bishop.”

“I think I know where Simon is,” she told him as steadily as she could manage. “We need everybody. And shovels. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes.”

She didn’t wait for a response, immediately cradling the receiver and rushing to get dressed. She realized it was still dark outside because she’d needed the lamp but was vaguely surprised when a glance at the clock across the room from her bed—as far away as possible so she couldn’t short the damned thing out—told her it was just after two in the morning.

She’d been in bed barely three hours.

Nellie?

Finn. I think I know where Simon is.

On my way.

She didn’t even think about the easy, assured touch of his mind or her equally easy response, just kept moving.

She automatically dressed in a couple of warm layers and chose thick socks and her virtually new hiking boots, grabbing her quilted jacket on the way out of her room, with Leo close at her heels.

She did not remember to put on her gloves.

It didn’t occur to her until she was hurrying down the quiet lamplit hall toward the stairs that she hadn’t even bothered to brush her hair or so much as glance into a mirror, but the thought was fleeting. Nothing mattered but getting to Simon as fast as possible.

She was downstairs in the lobby area in minutes, and before she could do more than pace a few steps one way and then another, the others were coming down the stairs toward her. She wasn’t surprised to see that Bishop’s entire team was there, all dressed warmly, seemingly wide-awake—though Hollis yawned and rubbed her eyes with one hand.