Escape was the word that finally brought Katelyn back around. She clutched both hands to her belly, nodding as she croaked out, ‘I can do it.’

No one moved, and no one spoke, and Rachel wondered if, like her, the others felt the electric charge in the air around them at the thought of escaping this nightmare. Her eyes moved around the room, touching on everyone before she stared up at the window. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine life again on the other side of that glass. But even as she let her imagination take over, a persistent voice nudged itself to the forefront of her mind: If we fail, we’ll be extremely lucky if they grant us a quick death. With fresh determination, she shut the voice down because, despite the fear, something else had begun to bloom in her chest, something she’d lost within hours of being locked in this place.

Hope.

To use one of her brother’s sports analogies, if she was going to die, she’d go out swinging.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Thursday, May 23

Thursday morning, Alyssa sat in the kitchen waiting for Isaac to come downstairs so she could drop him off at Trevor’s on her way to the precinct. Mrs. Lewis had called last night to suggest leaving today instead of tomorrow in the hopes of beating the traffic, and though it had meant the family would miss his eighth-grade promotion ceremony, Alyssa had been unable to say no to her son’s pleading eyes. Brock would’ve taken him, but he had a meeting with some of the subcontractors he’d hired for construction on the hospital wing bid he’d won while she’d been hunting Evan Bishop. It was so hard to believe her baby would be going into high school in just a few months. It seemed like just last week she’d been helping him take those first steps on his wobbly infant legs.

Her smile slipped as she thought about the fact that Meghan Jessup’s parents would no longer have any more firsts with their daughter. Her gut insisted Beau Cambridge was the boy they’d described seeing their daughter with. Not to mention the undeniable fact that Cambridge was exactly the kind of player capable of trying to date a beautiful fourteen-year-old girl, if for no other reason than to stroke his monstrous ego.

Yesterday afternoon, she and Cord had driven over to Beau’s house to talk to him about a possible connection with Meghan, but he wasn’t home, and his mother hadn’t known where he was or when he’d return. Throughout their questioning, Mrs. Cambridge had steadfastly refused to look at them, choosing instead to focus her gaze over their shoulders.

‘Do you know if Beau has traveled to Santa Fe in the last couple of months?’ Alyssa had asked.

‘I don’t keep tabs on my son’s comings and goings, Detective. It angers both him and my husband. If they wish for me to know, or if it’s important, they’ll tell me.’