Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
I close the laptop softly. Then I press my palms to my eyes and breathe until the blur clears.
“She trusted whoever came,” I say quietly. “He didn’t force her.”
Raven’s breath catches, her voice dropping into a whisper. “She thought it was safe.”
“She thought she was meeting someone who’d tell her about her father.”
Raven flinches like the mention of the bastard himself hurts.
Vinnie’s footsteps echo up the stairs. He’s holding his tablet over his chest. “I checked every camera angle, every feed from the gate to the porch. Not a thing out of place.”
I straighten. “That’s impossible.”
“Or deliberate,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Someone scrubbed the logs. None of the entry sensors tripped, but I pulled the raw data from the network drive. There’s a five-minute gap in transmission between 2:58 and 3:05 p.m.”
Raven’s eyes widen. “Right when she was supposed to meet him.”
“Exactly,” Vinnie says. “Someone hacked the system. My fucking system. The best out there. Not a power outage, not a glitch. This was surgical.”
“So he knew what he was doing,” I say.
Vinnie meets my gaze, grim. “Whoever he is.”
The room goes quiet again. Raven moves toward the dresser, traces her fingers over Belinda’s music books, her ribbons, her tiny bottle of vanilla rose perfume. “I should’ve seen something. I should’ve—”
“No,” Vinnie interrupts. “You couldn’t have. Whoever this was, he planned every move.”
“What if you didn’t get them all, Vinnie?” Raven gulps. “What if someone who was close to Declan—”
“Then we’ll deal with it,” Vinnie finishes for her. His tone is flat, final. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
I nod, though my gut twists. “Still, we should assume she’s with someone who has resources. The timing, the camera blackout… It’s all too clean.”
Raven wraps her arms around herself. “She’s not safe.”
The words hang there like a weight.
I turn back to the laptop. “We’ll find something else. A clue, a pattern. Kids don’t just vanish without leaving crumbs.”
Raven moves beside me again, watching over my shoulder as I open the message archive, the downloads folder, the email inbox. Nothing unusual. School newsletters. Piano lesson reminders.
One unopened email catches my eye. The subject line says Private invitation—summer scholarship program.
I click it. It’s from a generic address, no school header, dated two days ago. The email claims Belinda’s been selected for a “prestigious music mentorship,” promising a full scholarship if she “confirms her interest via the link.” There’s no link anymore. Just the remnants of a broken URL.
“Phishing,” I say. “Fake email. Someone wanted her to click.”
Raven exhales shakily. “She must’ve. She always dreams about Juilliard, about getting out there…”
“She probably thought it was real,” I say.
Vinnie stands again, pacing. “I can trace the sender.”
“Not without the original metadata,” I remind him. “And that’s probably long gone. But maybe the police’s cyber team can.”
Raven’s hands tremble where they grip the back of the chair. “The detective said they’d escalate their investigation if they found evidence of abduction. What else do they need?”
“Proof,” Vinnie says bitterly. “They need a witness or a body.”
I shut the laptop and stand. “Then we’ll find proof.”
They both look at me. Raven’s expression softens with something close to pity. “Dani…”
“I’m serious.” I cross my arms. “I’m not waiting around while they shuffle paperwork.”
Vinnie sighs. “And what exactly are you going to do?”
“Start where she ended,” I say. “Someone used that garden gate. Maybe there’s something out there the police missed—a footprint, a fiber, some kind of clue. I’ll check the flowerbeds, the trellis, anywhere she could’ve walked.”
Raven creases her brow. “It’s dark. You shouldn’t be out there alone.”
“I won’t be,” I say. “You’ll be watching me from the kitchen window.”
She doesn’t argue after that. She just nods once, sharp and resigned, like she knows there’s no stopping me.
I head for the back door.
Outside, the night hums with cicadas. The garden looks peaceful and ordinary. The lanterns are still glowing along the path, roses swaying gently in the breeze. But I know better now. Somewhere in this quiet is the echo of a knock that should never have happened.
And all so close to the entrance to my mother-in-law suite.
I crouch by the gate and trace the latch with my fingers. The metal is cool and smooth. Too smooth. Someone wiped it clean.
My heart pounds hard.
He was here.
He touched this gate.
And he took her.
I square my shoulders, pull out my phone, and switch on the flashlight. The beam cuts through the dark. I search for something—anything—that the others missed.
Belinda.
Hold on, Bee.
I’m coming for you.
11
HAWK
Fifteen Years Ago…
There is nothing more important than family. Remember that, Hawk.
I swear to God, if my father bludgeons those words into my brain one more time, I’m really going to become unhinged.
But at age twelve, I’ve been trained to say, “Yes, I understand, Dad.”
“It’s important that you always understand”—he clears his throat, hiding his mouth—“that what I did was necessary.”