The lot behind her clinic flashed through her mind in jagged pieces—the dumpster lid crashing shut, arms locking around her, and the sickly sweet smell flooding her senses.
Her stomach twisted. Someone had drugged her. But who? And where was she?
She strained to listen, desperate for some clue. Traffic. Voices. Music. Anything.
Silence pressed in from every direction. The absence of sound terrified her almost as much as the restraints. Wherever she was, it was isolated enough that no one had heard her.
A sob caught in her chest.
Did Sean know? Had Tim realized she’d been gone too long? Had Sean shown up and found her car still sitting in the lot?
Please let him know.
Please let him be looking for me.
Fresh panic drove her to fight harder. She thrashed against the restraints until her muscles burned and her wrists throbbed. The ropes tightened with every desperate pull, but nothing gave. Her chest heaved with the effort, her lungs burning as she fought for air.
At last, her strength gave out. Her body sagged against the unforgiving surface beneath her, trembling from exhaustion. Tears tracked into her hair as she stared up at the harsh bulb glaring overhead.
The silence that followed felt suffocating.
Closing her eyes, she pictured Sean’s face—his crooked smile, the fierce determination that always burned in his eyes when something mattered.
When she mattered.
A shaky breath slipped past her lips.
“Please, Sean.” Her voice barely carried. “Please be my hero and find me.”
Sean barreled into the pharmacy and barely registered the startled faces that turned toward him. Brian, Lynch, and Rafe stormed in after him, their combined presence enough to freeze every employee and customer in place.
The drive from Whisper had taken ten brutal minutes.
After Brian radioed their destination to the unit trailing them, Lynch had thrown on his lights and siren and surged ahead, clearing traffic all the way to the pharmacy up the street from the hospital. Even without the escort, Sean would have ignored every speed limit and stoplight.
Every passing second felt like one more slipping away from Grace.
Clutching the photo printout, he vaulted over the pharmacy counter and landed in the work area. A female pharmacist wearing a white coat gasped. Another woman—likely a tech—let out a startled cry that died the instant Sean shoved the photo toward her.
“Who is this?”
“Sean.” Brian’s sharp warning came from the opposite side of the counter. “Easy.”
He flashed his credentials toward the trembling woman, his voice steady in a way Sean couldn’t manage. “Ma’am, I’m Special Agent Brian Malone with the State Bureau of Investigation. Can you tell us who the man in the photo is?”
The tech’s gaze darted between the four law enforcement officers surrounding her, her face draining of color.
Sean thrust the picture closer, every nerve in his body screaming for answers. It took every ounce of control not to bark the demand again.
Before she could respond, the pharmacist stepped forward and rested a hand on her coworker’s arm, guiding her aside so she could get a better look at the image. “That’s George.”
The name sliced through Sean. “George who?”
“Wallace. George Wallace. He’s a pharmacist here.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking?”
“Where does he live, ma’am?” Brian asked.
