"Thirty minutes ago." Ethan is already moving back toward the road. "They're heading south."
"Charlie," I whisper, her name a prayer.
Trenton's hand finds mine. "Let's go."
We race back to the vehicles, the forest blurring around us. I climb back into Greyson's truck, my mind racing with possibilities and fears.
"East, then south," I say, picturing the map in my mind. "Where would he go? What's down there?"
"Small towns," Greyson answers, pulling onto the highway. "Some farmland. A few state parks."
"State parks," I repeat, the connection clicking into place. "Like the forest."
Matthew pulls out his phone. "I'll call Techy, have him check if any missing women were last seen near state parks."
The truck accelerates, eating up the miles between us and the sighting. I stare out the window, watching the landscape shift from forest to scattered farmland.
"He's running," I say, more to myself than anyone. "But he took Charlie with him."
"Why keep her?" Trenton asks, his voice low. "If he's killed before…"
I don't want to think about it, but I force myself to follow the logic. "He needs her. Or he thinks he does."
"Hostage?" Greyson suggests.
I shake my head. "Something else. He's a single father. He's raised her alone."
"What are you saying?" Matthew asks.
"I'm saying Charlie is part of his life. His routine." The realization hits me with sudden clarity. "He won't leave her behind because she's part of his… his collection."
The word tastes foul in my mouth, but I can't deny the truth of it. Evan Harris doesn't see Charlie as a person; she's a possession, like the women he killed.
"We need to find them before he realizes we're close," I say. "If he feels cornered…"
I don't finish the sentence. We all know what could happen.
Greyson's phone rings, the sound cutting through the tension. He answers, listening for a moment before passing the phone to me.
"Morgan." Techy's voice comes through the speaker. "I found something."
"What is it?"
"Harris's ex-wife. Died three years ago in a car accident. But before that, she filed a restraining order."
My pulse jumps. "For stalking?"
"Worse," Techy says. "Domestic violence. Multiple hospital visits. The police reports mention a pattern of controlling behavior, isolation."
The pieces are falling into place. "What did she look like?"
There's a pause, then the sound of typing. "Dark hair. Blue eyes. About your height."
The confirmation hits me like a physical blow. "He's been killing his wife over and over again."
"What?" Trenton asks, looking at me.
"It makes sense," I say, the pattern becoming clearer. "He loses control of his wife, so he kills her. Then he finds women who look like her, women he can control. When they disappoint him, when they try to leave…"
