She’d taken only a few steps toward the car when she heard the noise.

It was coming from the trunk of the yellow rental car.

A banging, scratching sound.

The kids heard it too, and they all clustered around the car, looking to Teri for answers. “What is it?” Chris asked, her eyes wide.

Teri stared at the trunk. “Maybe an animal got trapped in there?”

The kids looked at her, and she knew she had to do something. She also knew that she couldn’t just take them for ice cream now without worrying that an animal was slowly suffocating. She squared her shoulders and reached for the trunk latch, bracing herself for the worst—an angry squirrel or bat flying out at her.

But what came out was not at all what she’d been expecting.

A man clambered out of the trunk. He whirled around. His eyes were wild. He wore a crumpled suit and looked like he was in his thirties. He had a bruise on his cheek and a gash on his forehead, and he was wielding a tire iron like a weapon.

His gaze fell on Teri and the kids, and his eyes narrowed. “Where the hell am I?”

CHAPTER 7

Do you see anything?” Stevie asked as I stood on my tiptoes, feeling around on top of the light fixtures and the moldings, trying to find a spare key. We’d spent a few minutes desperately trying the knob, like if we turned it hard enough, somehow it might just open. There was a blue-and-white-striped mat in front of the door, but the only things under it were a squashed spider and a desiccated leaf. Which really wasn’t that surprising—we didn’t even keep a spare key under our mat, and we lived in one of the safest towns in America. This was New York City; of course people weren’t going to leave their keys sitting out.

Stevie was holding Brad’s leash, but as far away from her body as possible, and every time the dog turned to her, rose on his back legs, and waved his paws—which really was ridiculously cute—Stevie just gave him half a pat on the head and then looked away. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” I confirmed, brushing the dust off my hands.

“I’ll call Mallory,” Stevie said, pulling out her phone with a deep sigh. She shook her head. “I can’t believe this. She’s…” But Stevie didn’t finish her sentence, just turned the speaker on Ophelia on as it started to ring.

“Hello?” The connection was bad—scratchy and staticky—but it was there.

“Mallory!” Stevie gripped the phone tighter and raised her voice. “We got locked out of your apartment! We’re here with Brad. Do you have an extra key?”

“What—” Whatever she said next was swallowed by a patch of static.

“We have the dog!” Stevie practically yelled into the phone. “We can’t get into the apartment! What should we do?”