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“Thank you, Trish.”
“Let me know if you hear anything.”
“Of course. Bye.”
A hoarse scream fills the office just as I put down the phone. It’s the sound of a voice that hasn’t been used for too long, and then is suddenly overworked.
I spin around to see Ross has assumed a power stance, waving a sheet of paper in the air. His face is a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and victory.
“For the love of all that is holy, Ross, spill it!”
He grabs another printout from a pile on the chair in the corner and comes over to me. “Look,” he says, holding
the two pieces of paper side by side.
“I’m looking. Tell me what it is I’m looking at.”
His excitement is making the air around him vibrate, and it’s feeding into me as well. For years I’ve trusted his judgement, and I would trust him with my life. Emily’s life. So if Ross is amped about something, I know it’s going to be worth my attention.
He shakes the one page. “This is the mechanic’s inventory list from the cars in his yard. It was part of all the stuff the team pulled while they were out there.”
“Got it.”
Waving the second page, Ross says, “This is the inventory our guys took of the yard on the last day they were there. And look.”
The anticipation and uncertainty are not mixing well with me. I need him to get to the point already. “Ross, they look like the same goddamn thing. Tell me what I’m not seeing.”
By this time, the whole rest of the team has gathered around us, just as curious to find out what Ross is on about.
He stands back so that he can see us all. “Here,” he says, holding up the mechanic’s list, “we have a complete list of vehicles on the mechanic’s property. And here—” He holds up the other one. “Here’s the list you guys made. It’s exactly the same as the mechanic’s list. Except one vehicle is missing on ours. Guess which one?”
It clicks immediately. And of course it makes total sense now that I think about it.
The words fall out of my mouth in an astounded breath, “Holy shit, it’s the Ford pickup.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emily
When I come to my senses, it’s the smell that hits me first. It’s rank and dizzying, and made all the worse by my contribution to it. I don’t know how long I’ve been unconscious, but judging by the way my body feels, I know it has to have been at least seven hours.
Still dizzy, I pull myself up to sit, the cable ties cutting deeper into my already burning wrists. I’m strapped around a beam or something. I lean my head against it. It feels two sizes bigger. Like it’s been stepped on by an overweight elephant. And I can tell from the way my jeans are especially clingy around my thighs that I’ve wet myself.
A strangled sob rips out of my throat and ripples off into the thick blanket of darkness all around me. How could this be happening? How could I have done something so stupid? And, oh God, how am I going to get out of here?
“H-hello?” I sniffle and simper my way to silence again, listening hard for the slight movement that just caught my attention.
A light goes on, and even though it’s not bright in any way, it’s blinding. I instinctively squeeze my eyes shut, wait a few seconds for them to adjust, and then open them again.
“Trevor, please.”
Please, what? I think to myself. What exactly am I going to say to him to make him release me? I have nothing. No plan.
He comes to crouch beside me and I flinch. This subtle reaction seems to please him, because that creepy grin spreads across his face again. I can’t believe how I could have ever thought he looked like an average college kid. Down here, in this moment, his true self revealed is something closer to pure evil.
“I tried, Emily,” he says. His cheery tone makes every hair on my body stand on end. “I tried to do this the right way.”
I’m shaking now, but it isn’t fear that’s doing it—the terror I felt when I was out there, not knowing who he was or what he wanted. What I feel now is blatant anger because how dare he! “What exactly was right about anything you did, Trevor?”
