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I find myself putting a little more gas behind the pedal, ignoring the sharp turns and the speed limit. Because the closer I get to my complex, the brighter the lights get. And it’s not just two cop cars, or four.

There’s six.

And a fire truck.

And an ambulance.

And they’re parked right outside my complex.

I get as close as I can before a cop steps in front of my car, holding his hand out to stop me from going any further. He rounds to the side, and I roll down my window.

“I have to get through,” I tell him.

“Nobody is getting through, Miss. There’s been an incident in the building,” the young cop says.

“This is my building,” I tell him. “I have to go up.”

“It’s a crime scene,” he says.

“A crime?” I ask, my eyes darting up to my balcony. Then my heart stops dead.

There are shadows in the light of my window. The outline of police officers.

I throw the door open and run past the other officers, under the tape, and anyone or anything else standing in my way.

When I see my door, it’s open and I bolt towards it.

“Miss, you can’t–” someone tries to stop me.

“This is my house! Jamie? Jamie!” I cry out. Someone’s hands come down on my arms, and I look around, searching the room. My heart sinks even lower towards the ground at the scene.

Chairs are knocked over. It smells like something on the stove was burning. The door handle is bashed where the keypad is. But that’s not even the worst of it. Brittany is on a stretcher.

“Oh God. Oh my God. What…what happened?!” I shout.

“A neighbor found the door open and your sitter unconscious,” a detective tells me. “When paramedics revived her, she said a child lives here, but she couldn’t give us his name or description before they transported her. Officers are searching the building now.”

“His name is Jamie Blythe,” I shout. “He’s five. Black hair, brown eyes, about this tall. He was supposed to be here with Brittany.”

The detective is already on her radio. “Confirm probable child abduction. Start the Amber Alert request and circulate the description now.”

“Probable?” I ask. “What do you mean, probable?”

“We have not found him in the building, and your sitter reported an intruder. We are treating this as an abduction.”

My vision blurs around the edges, and I fall to my knees. I see nothing. Hear nothing. The only thing I feel is the buzzing of my phone. I fumble to pull it from my pocket and answer it.

“Marcus,” I quiver.

“Natalie. We confirmed it. We have proof. It’s all in the papers. Your sister and her husband are the culprits. And we’re under the impression they’re on the run,” he says.

“Ash!” I nearly scream. “Jamie is gone.”

Chapter 34

Marcus

The words don’t register at first. I think because I don’t want to believe them. But when I echo them back and Natalie confirms through a panicked sob, my stomach bottoms out.