Avery’sscream.
I wince and roll over, see the man dragging her toward the van.
No, no, no, no …
I plant one hand on the ground and force myself to my knees. Reality flickers in and out in waves. A sticky warmth covers my cheek. Blood. It doesn’t matter. Not the fire raging in my temple or the nausea greasing my gut. Not the way I sway like a tree when I take to my feet and nearly topple over. The only thing that matters is saving Avery.
I lurch forward. I will kill this man. I will turn whatever face lies beneath his mask to pulp. I don’t care if he shoots me. He’s not taking my wife.
But then my vision clears, and I stop. He’s no longer pointing the gun at me. He’s pointing it at Avery, the barrel planted squarely against the side of her head.
My rage snuffs out in an instant. I raise my palms in a silent plea.Because I know that this man, whoever he is, is capable of violence. He’s already proven it. I have no doubt he’ll pull the trigger if I take another step.
“Take me,” I beg.
The man doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me with two ice-colored eyes that look like shards of glass ready to cut. And then he speaks: “Don’t follow us. Don’t contact the police. Go back to your Airbnb and you’ll receive further instructions. If you go anywhere else, or you tell anyone about what happened here”—his eyes tick toward Avery—“we’ll kill her. You have one hour. Don’t make us wait.”
We. Us.Because someone else is driving. I didn’t even register that fact until now. All of my logic washed away the second this man stepped out of the van holding death in his hand. I peer past him and try to see who’s behind the wheel but all I can make out is the vague outline of someone else.
“Toss your phone into the van,” the man orders.
With shaking fingers, I pull it from my pocket and lob it through the open door. The gun swings from Avery’s temple and comes to rest on me before arcing right. He fires twice:Crack! Crack!One of the tires on the Jeep explodes.
When I look back to Avery, she’s pressing a hand to her belly.
Oh god, the baby.
The thought is like a switchblade planted between my eyes—a bright splinter of pure panic. Because whoever these people are, they aren’t just taking my wife.
They’re also taking my child.
My eyes lock with Avery’s. Tears stream down her cheeks. Her face is bone white. She says something I can’t hear over the roar of the engine as the man pulls her inside. But I recognize the words. I see them in the way her mouth widens and the tip of her tongue lightly taps her upper row of her teeth. I feel them in the shape of her lips when they round into a soft O a second before the door slams shut.
I love you.
And then she’s gone.
Chapter 3
GRANT
I run after the van, my eyes hungry for a license plate, or anything I might be able to use to identify the vehicle later. Any distinguishing marks or scratches. There’s none. The back of the van is all dirt and rust, the bumper bare metal—no plate. And then it’s gone, disappearing into the trees.
I stop and suck air, feeling like my bones will turn to gelatin, like my organs will dissolve, and I’ll splash to the earth as a gutless sack of meat.
This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening …
But itishappening.
My wife is gone, and my child is gone. The child I didn’t know I had until this morning—everything I love in this world, ripped away from me in the span of a few minutes by a stranger wearing a black mask.
And you can’t stand here a second longer thinking about it!
My body comes to life. I move. I sprint for the Jeep and climb inside. Go for the keys—which aren’t there.Shit, where are they?My mind vapor locks. I scan the cup holders, the dash, yank open the glove box, and stop. Avery was driving. She had them.
And they have her.
Oh, god.
