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“So in the meantime we just wait?” I ask.
“Or we could pay the ransom?” Max says, cutting in.
I turn to look at him, a shocked expression on my face. “Are you serious?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. “You want her back, don’t you?”
“Of course, I want her back,” I snap. “But paying the ransom only plays into what they want. You pay once and it never stops, they come back with more and more and there’s no guarantee we ever get her back.”
“Ethan’s right,” Detective Simmons says, holding a hand up as though to placate everyone. “We don’t recommend paying the ransom, as tempting as that may be.”
“But if it’s our only option?” Jeff now asks, clearly willing to try anything.
The detective looks at him, offering him a sympathetic smile. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? First things first, we need to get these letters analyzed and see about this cell number.”
“Which one of us should call it?” I ask, pulling my phone from my pocket as I glance at Jeff.
“It probably doesn’t matter,” the detective says. “But we should head down to the station to do it, so we can try and get a trace on the number.”
“Now?” I ask, glancing at Jeff.
The detective looks at his watch and I swear if he suggests we wait until tomorrow, I’m fucking calling anyway. I don’t care that it’s evening and most people have probably gone home. I only care about one thing and that’s getting Zoey back.
“Yes,” he eventually says with a nod. “Why don’t you both come?” he suggests looking at me and then Jeff. “We can sort out who’s calling when we get there.”
“Okay,” I reply as Jeff says, “Sounds good.”
“Should I stay here?” Pam asks, her fingers knotted together, that same worried look on her face as last night.
The detective nods, glancing at Max who says, “I’ll stay with her.”
I exhale, grateful that I at least won’t have to deal with this animosity that seems to now exist between Zoey’s brother and me.
I know the guy works for me and I know he’s a good employee, but things have certainly taken a turn to shit since all of this happened. He’s made it blatantly obvious he doesn’t like the fact I’m in a relationship with his sister and I’m starting to get the impression that Max blames me for what’s happened to her too.
“Right, let’s go,” Detective Simmons says.
CHAPTER6
ZOEY
My heart is racing, and everything around me is moving in slow motion, begging me to move faster, and I push the gas pedal to the ground. The car jerks forward, sending me back in the seat, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turn white. The handcuffs dangle from my wrist, reminding me what I just escaped from, desperate to find help.
I reach forward with a trembling hand, attempting to use the GPS, but I can’t seem to steady myself long enough to search for anything. The car begins to veer off the road, hitting the low shoulder and sending me back into a panic. I’m not far enough away and losing control of the car now could be a catastrophe.
Even though I know he can’t reach me on foot, my mind still tells me he can, begging me to focus and get somewhere safe. I look in the rearview mirror, the back window gone, but despite there being nothing behind me, I can’t help but picture the masked man holding the gun.
My mind swirls with too many thoughts, the tears streaming down my cheeks now. I should have pulled his mask off. I should have looked to see who he was or at least taken in his face so I have something to give to the police. All I have is an abandoned motel and the kidnapper’s car.
He could still be there. Just because he came to quickly, doesn’t mean I didn’t injure him. I hit him on the head with a heavy ceramic toilet tank cover. There’s no way he could have gotten very far unless he called someone to come pick him up.
I’m driving, heading down this deserted road with no real idea of where I am or where I’m going. The trees fly past the car, the gravel of the road kicks back along the tires, and my mind is so clouded that I almost blow right past a fire station.
Yanking the wheel to the right, I careen into the parking lot, my heart slamming against my ribs, almost like it will rip through my chest.
I feel like I’m not far enough away and getting out of the car feels like a risk. I lay on the horn, the loud blast startling me, but I press my hand against the horn, letting the sound permeate the vast emptiness of the area as I navigate the car into a spot closest to the door.
I jump out, running for the door, pulling it open as I look over my shoulder. The fear that he’s right behind me is still there, telling me to keep my guard up, to not break down until I’m home safe.
