“Look at this,” Amina whispers, and shows Grace something on her phone. At least it stops Grace from not-quite-silently crying.

Miranda pulls out her own phone. She texts Parker. R U out? Hiding w/ people at Culpeppers.

A few weeks ago, down in his basement, he had offered her a trade. Her time for his money. And she let him do whatever he wanted, knowing it would eventually make the pounding in her head go away.

Is Parker even alive to read her text? Probably not. When she shifts, she can smell herself, the acrid scent of fear. Miranda swallows hard against a roil of nausea.

Dear God, she prays, not even certain there is anyone to listen, help me. Help us.

What They Want Me to Believe

WHAT THEY WANT ME TO BELIEVE

4:48 P.M.

A whisper from Amina breaks the silence. “Shouldn’t SWAT be here by now?”

Miranda, who has been texting back and forth with Parker, checks her phone. It’s been nearly a half hour since she talked to her dad. “He didn’t say exactly when.”

“What if they don’t come?” Amina asks. “What if they’re never coming?”

Miranda feels just as itchy and anxious, and it’s not only from the lack of Oxy. “Maybe we need to find another way out of here.” She points up at a rectangular vent set just under the white acoustical tile ceiling. “What about that?”

Javier squints. “I don’t think anyone could really fit in there.”

Cole also looks dubious. “That’s the kind of thing that only works in movies.”

“It’s still worth a try,” Miranda insists, even though part of her thinks they’re probably right. But they can’t just sit here waiting forever.

“I’m going to trade you,” she says to Javier, pulling out the bottom desk drawer. “Put your feet on this and let me have the chair.”

After raising the chair to its highest position, Miranda pushes the computer aside. With a grunt, she lifts the chair onto the desk.

“Can you hold it still for me?” she asks Cole.

After he grabs it, she clambers up on the desk, puts one knee on the seat, and then stands on the chair, touching the wall for balance. The bottom of the vent is now even with the top of her head. Tugging the grate free, she hands it down to Amina as she measures the space with her eyes. This close, it does look too small. Javier’s probably right. But she doesn’t want to give up.

Amina and Cole are on their feet, watching her. Javier’s propped up on his elbows, doing the same. Grace sits with her eyes closed, lost in her own little world.

Amina’s shorter and wider than Miranda. Even though Cole’s lanky, his shoulders are broad. Javier’s short and sturdy, and then there’s his leg.

But Grace is as thin as a thread.