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Chapters (57)
  1. Welcome to the Game
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraphs
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. Six months later . . .
  56. Acknowledgments
  57. Back Cover

As he leaned down to sign, Spencer made eye contact with Zed over his shoulder. They smiled.

Spencer’s phone vibrated. He ignored it. He moved another set of papers in front of his buyer. “And next, these two. Just right there . . . and there.”

His phone vibrated again. Spencer slid it out of his pocket just enough to see the screen. Chris. Spencer felt that taking a family call might help Mr. Indecisive stay calm. The guy still had to actually hand over that cashier’s check after all.

“Spencer Burnham,” he said without taking his eyes off the pen skipping along one dotted line after another.

Chris’s voice screamed in Spencer’s ear. “Spencer!”

“Chris, how’s it go—”

“Abby’s gone!”

“She’s probably playing with Ethan.”

“She isn’t. After her lessons she said she was going out with him. But he hasn’t seen her since last night.”

“I’m on my way.”

“I’m calling the cops right now!”

“Don’t call the cops. I’m coming back right now!”

Mr. Indecisive looked up. Zed looked over. Zed’s niece stopped chatting with a couple about their toddler, and they all looked across the showroom.

“Why the hell not?” said Chris.

Spencer was running for the door. “Chris, listen to me. Don’t call the cops! I’m on my way.”

35

35

Lost and Found

Spencer’s phone lay on the table in a patch of sunlight. He and Chris sat on either side, waiting. A séance for technologically ­inclined spirits.

An hour passed, each tick of the wall clock a geological age.

The phone rang. Both got hands on it. Chris snatched it away. But it was Zed. Chris passed it back to Spencer. The ensuing conversation was short and stilted.

“No, no, everything’s fine,” said Spencer. He killed the call and put the phone back on the table.

Chris gave a grunt of exasperation and started pacing.

They waited. Another hour passed.

The phone pinged. Spencer opened the message.

Go to the lake.

He rose from the table.

Go to the lake?

Was she at the lake? Or was she in it?

Marielle screamed in his head.

Our daughter, Spencer! What have you done?

“What have you done?” asked Chris.

If they wanted revenge, then why bother kidnapping Abby? Why not just wait at the apartment. No, it was him they wanted. And they knew he wouldn’t care about anything if they killed Abby. He surprised himself with his certainty.

Why then, Spencer?

Can’t you see, Marielle? I took your advice, everyone’s advice. I got out. I got a job. We ran. And now they’ve found us. Why? Because the Game is still in play—whether we like it or not.