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 finally decide to leave it on the desk and tell the cops about it.
I stand and orient myself at the door again.
Natalie. Belinda’s nanny and tutor.
The only one who doesn’t have an alibi for the time Belinda disappeared.
Natalie loves Belinda. Vinnie and Raven told me how she tried to help Belinda escape her abusive father. And Natalie would certainly never misspell the word “flashlight.”
But still…
Even the most trusted person can turn for the right reason. I don’t even want to think about what that reason could be.
Think, Daniela.
If you were taking a child who trusts you—even a little—how would you coax her out without a struggle? You wouldn’t grab. You’d make it feel like an adventure. You’d tell her to bring a blanket. You’d make sure there was no mess.
God, I don’t know.
I pivot to the dresser. The top drawer is underwear, and the second is T-shirts.
The third drawer won’t open at first, but when it does, I find nothing unusual.
“Belinda,” I say out loud. “Help me. Help me find what I’m looking for.”
9
HAWK
A headache threatens to erupt.
The rational part of me knows this is the right call—tie up loose ends, erase anything that could trace my investigation and abduction of Reyes back to me. But another part—the part that still believes in law, in justice, in clean lines between good and evil—whispers that maybe I’ve crossed a line I can’t uncross.
All I’m doing now is cleaning up after a mistake.
A big one.
When I went after Reyes, I told myself it was righteous. He’s a monster. I’ve seen the damage he’s done. I told myself I was doing what the law wouldn’t.
Reyes was defenseless when I took him. Pathetic, even. He had no idea who he was dealing with. And maybe that’s what makes it worse.
The image of Ted flashes into my head like a sucker punch—his wide eyes, his hands up, that sickening pop when everything went to hell.
I squeeze my hands into fists.
No. This isn’t the same. Not even close.
That thought makes something inside me twist. Because Ted was defenseless too. And I swore, all those years ago, that I’d never become the kind of man who justified violence with family or fear.
Reyes isn’t Ted, I remind myself. He’s not innocent. He’s guilty as sin. But guilt doesn’t give me the right to be judge, jury, and executioner.
Maybe the world isn’t as black and white as I used to think. Maybe it never was.
The truth is that sometimes doing the right thing doesn’t look right at all. Sometimes it’s dirty. Ugly. Necessary.
And sometimes, it’s just wrong.
Ted was an innocent man caught in a moment that spun out of control. Reyes is a monster. He hurt women. He hurt Daniela.
I rub the bridge of my nose. Maybe justice doesn’t always fit in the lines. Besides, Reyes got away. With someone’s help.
I push the thought away. I don’t have time for philosophy. Not tonight.
I check the adjoining room—the one where it all started. The struggle. The overturned chair, the broken glass, the smudge of blood by the dresser where he fell.
All gone.
The lamp’s upright again. The rug aligned. It’s as if none of it happened.
A trickle of sweat slides down my temple. I wipe it away and listen. The house hums faintly with the sound of the fridge downstairs, the low buzz of the air conditioning unit. Nothing else.
Whoever cleaned this up knew exactly what they were doing, and they didn’t want to leave a trace.
But why?
If Reyes was back, he wouldn’t have wasted time tidying up the scene of his own humiliation. Hell, he wouldn’t erase evidence that could take me down. He’d have come straight for me.
Unless someone else got here first. Someone protecting him. Or cleaning for a bigger reason.
I draw a slow breath.
My gut tightens.
This was supposed to be simple. In and out. A cleanup, not a haunting.
I take one last look at the room and start toward the door.
That’s when I feel it.
A pressure shift. It’s subtle, as if the air itself just inhaled.
Instinct kicks in. I half-turn, hand reaching for the gun holstered at my back—
A blow cracks against the side of my skull.
White pain blooms. My knees buckle. The world narrows to a pinpoint and then widens again in a wash of black.
Another impact. Sharp and fast, behind my ear this time.
The room tilts.
Through the ringing in my head, I hear a voice. A man’s voice. Low.
“Should’ve stayed away, Bellamy.”
And then everything goes dark.
10
DANIELA
The printer.
Time to look closely.
The note was printed from here. The officers said they’d pull the print log. Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t look at the paper tray. I slide it out an inch. Half a ream. The top sheet is clean. I angle it to the light. No faint impression from the page above, no pressure ghost of letters.