“Probably. I was too new, but Guy trusted them. He’d have taken them there or sent them for supplies.”

“I mean last night. His scent was as strong as the other boys’.”

My heart thumped. “Maybe they were keeping him there.”

“Maybe.”

“Was there any trace of…anyone else?”

“Jasper? No.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

THE WAREHOUSE WAS on the way to the apartment where Carlos had been found, and Karl wanted to confirm Sonny’s presence—now that he had scent samples—and see whether there was a trail.

There was.

We expected it to lead to the street and disappear. Instead, the trail meandered down alleys and back roads. Despite the serpentine route, it was obvious Sonny had a goal in mind, and was detouring around major arteries.

“He doesn’t want to be spotted,” I said as we walked down a service lane. “Can you tell who he’s with?”

“No one.”

“He’s alone? He must be escaping then.”

Karl slowed, then looked over his shoulder at me.

My cheeks warmed. “I know that’s not the only explanation, Karl. He could be—” I pushed the admission out. “He could have been at the warehouse of his own free will. He could be working with whoever is behind this. He could have delivered the bottle. I know all that. I just…”

I saw their faces: Bianca, Rodriguez, Max, Tony, Guy. Twenty-four hours, and almost everyone I’d met in the past few days was dead.

“It’s just too much. I…need to hope.”

He turned, stopping me in my path, and rubbed down the goose bumps on my arms. He leaned closer, and I thought he was going to kiss me, but he just leaned in, his voice lowering.

“I’m going to call Lucas and have them send a guard and a car. You should go to that apartment where they found Carlos, see if you can pick up anything.”

“I’ll be okay, Karl.”

“I think you should—”

“It won’t cloud my judgment. I promise.”

One last squeeze. As we walked, he snuck glances my way. Looking for signs that he should insist on doing this without me.

The trail ended at a terraced garden, with notices that confetti and rice were prohibited. Presumably a popular wedding photo site.

Sonny’s trail led across the gardens to the park beyond, which wasn’t huge—maybe a couple of acres—with playground equipment and benches.

We stood in the shadow of a storage shed beside the garden. I wished I’d brought a jacket. A chill wind blew in from the north, and the sun kept ducking behind cloud cover. Miamians, accustomed to better weather, had forsaken the park, all except a single child and her nanny on the swings, and a man slumped on a bench.

I looked at the man. At his size. At his dark blond hair, ruffled by the breeze. My heart picked up speed.