‘You bet.’

‘Now, what about cameras in the university area that could help tell us what happened to either girl. Did they leave alone or with someone? Did they walk, drive, or Uber? See if we can find any witnesses that place Beau Cambridge near either girl before she disappeared. We already know he was with Jersey earlier in the day, so I’m talking about later that evening.’ She tapped Jane Doe’s image. ‘And let’s find these girls before we have two more deaths on our conscience.’ She squashed down the voice that said they already might.

Chapter Seventeen

Tuesday, May 21

Throughout the night, Rachel’s nightmares kept jerking her back to wakefulness, only to remember that she was still in one, images of The Toybox flashing behind her eyes seared into memories she’d never be able to rid herself of. And each time her eyes drifted closed again, a fuzzy Anna stood with her arms outstretched, just out of Rachel’s reach, yelling something to her. This time when she woke, panting, bathed in sweat, wincing at pain the likes of which she’d never before experienced, she was mildly surprised to find her face wet from tears.

Anna. Where was she? Had a fate worse than her own befallen her friend? Was death really worse anyway? Had whoever drugged her – and she was sure now she’d been drugged at the frat party – done the same to her friend? Had she somehow managed to escape? For a second Rachel allowed herself the fantasy of imagining Anna heading up a search party and leading the cavalry to their rescue.

Carefully, slowly, she rolled to her side, her eyes landing on the new girl with the petite frame. Some part of her brain had processed the new girl’s arrival, but when she’d been brought back downstairs, she’d been in too much pain and was far too traumatized to care about anything except death or escaping this nightmare – whichever came first, she’d take it. The dim light from the bathroom cast a shadow over the fair-skinned girl, and a feeling of guilty relief combined with the suffocating weight of shame flooded her system. Maybe the new girl would be more to the liking of the men who’d purchased her. From the deep purple and blue marks on the girl’s body, she appeared to bruise easily, something the men seemed to enjoy.

Part of a conversation her subconscious had picked up when the girl had been tossed in the cell played in her mind. Becca had said something about being forced into prostitution.

‘Prostitutes get paid in something other than beatings, bites, and bruises. You can’t make this anything other than what it is – slavery – Becca, so stop trying.’

Faye’s words rang in her head even as Rachel’s mind caught up to the fact that the newcomer was staring back at her, the dull, dead look in her eyes mirroring that of her own. ‘What’s your name?’ Her voice was hoarse, raspy, and her throat burned as if molten liquid had been poured down it.