Jersey squeezed her eyes closed against the nightmare that wouldn’t end and did something she hadn’t done since she was nine years old. She prayed. Prayed for death to come this instant and carry her far, far away. Even hell had to be better than this.

And then she found herself praying for something else, something more.

Revenge.

Chapter Twenty-One

Wednesday, May 22

Shortly after five-thirty the next morning, a mere five hours after getting home, Alyssa walked back into the precinct, sleep-deprived and weary, yet full of adrenaline and drive to find Rachel, Jersey, and now Katelyn. The disappearances were connected; they had to be. And she was determined to hunt down that connection. Her gut told her if she found that link, it would also lead to Jane Doe’s killer.

She set her stuff down and booted up the computer before grabbing a stack of multi-colored sticky notes, a black marker, and a plastic cup of pushpins. She was standing by the enlarged map of Albuquerque when the conference room door banged open against the wall, the scent of coffee filling the room. She spared a quick glance over her shoulder. Cord juggled a four-pack container of take-out coffee with a fifth cup perched precariously in the crook of his elbow.

‘Thought you might need this this morning. Black and strong, just the way you like it. Where is everyone else?’ He carefully set everything down before handing her one of the cups and then heading over to the white board writing: Rachel Otis, Jersey Andrews, Katelyn Phillipson. Beside each name he wrote the date each had disappeared. Then he wrote Jane Doe and listed the date her body had been discovered in the abandoned restaurant.

Leaving him to do what he was doing, Alyssa returned to her own task, but before she could get started, Hal rolled in, speaking over the squeak of his wheelchair. ‘Tony sent a text to say he’s five minutes out. Construction slowed him down. Joe is parking his car.’

‘Nope, Joe has finished parking his car and is present and accounted for.’ With his foot, Joe pulled out the chair closest to him and dropped into it, pointing to the coffee. ‘One of those for me?’ He didn’t wait for an answer before grabbing one of the take-out cups and taking a careful sip. ‘You know, it’s a sad thing when the workings of a police station are far less grating than the nonstop cries of an infant who can’t be soothed.’ He leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a second. ‘Okay, have I missed anything yet?’

‘Nope. We’re still waiting for Tony,’ Hal answered.

‘Wait’s over.’ Tony walked through the door, a sub sandwich and a bag of salt and vinegar chips in hand. ‘What? I didn’t get a chance to eat it last night, so I brought it for breakfast this morning,’ he said when Hal’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He tore open the bag of chips and dumped them onto a napkin, offering them to the rest of the team.