Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Inside, it was a scene of controlled chaos.
Maps were spread across the dining table, layered with highlighter marks, and crowded with sticky notes. Every flat surface in the house buzzed with laptops, their screens glowing with open tabs and satellite feeds. At the same time, phones rang and vibrated in a constant, chaotic rhythm no one could keep straight anymore. Jackson’s dry-erase board—once used for whatever scribbles they'd drawn on it—had been completely repurposed, now covered in timelines, names, and grainy surveillance screenshots. At the center of it all, Gabby’s name was written in bold letters and circled in red. We didn’t know where she was. We didn’t know if she was okay. But we were going to find her.
Matty sat with his laptop in front of him, three monitors hooked into his personal mobile server. He hadn’t stopped typing in over an hour. Next to him was Marcus’s friend Remy—normally the quiet ranch handyman with a gift for electrical repairs. It turns out he also had a side gig in digital security and was currently running trace calls to every electronics store within a fifty-mile radius.
“I’ve spoken to four shops so far,” Remy told us, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he typed. “Two confirmed a woman matching her description came in today. One said she bought a couple of micro-cams, a portable recorder, and maybe a burner. I'm still waiting to hear if she bought anything else.”
Matty didn’t look up as he clicked through another frame of grainy hotel surveillance. “I’ve pulled every camera angle from within three blocks of the Halcyon. Got three men leaving the hotel about an hour after we think Gabby made contact. I’m enhancing one of the plates now. The other car had tinted windows and no front plate.”
“Can you ID the make and model?” I asked, pacing the edge of the room.
“Already on it. Might take a few, but if I can cross-check traffic camera feeds, I might be able to trace their route.”
Marcus leaned in behind him, arms crossed, jaw tight. “If we get a direction, we can spread the search.”
“I’m also working off a few facial matches,” Matty added, his eyes still on the screen. “I pulled the clearest frame I could from the guy who entered the room and ran it through the system. Got a hit on an ex-contractor with a history of overseas work—bad reputation, lots of red flags, and that type of shit. He’s not the kind of person you bring in unless you’re planning to keep things quiet and don’t intend to ask too many questions.”
“And the others?”
“No hits yet, but I’m not done.”
I stepped outside as my phone vibrated in my hand, and Sasha’s name lit up the screen.
“Hey,” I greeted quietly, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Tell me you found her,” Sasha whispered, and I could hear the hope that she was trying to cling to.
"Not yet, but we’re getting close. We’ve identified some faces, and we’re tracking the vehicles. She left us a trail to follow—it’s just a subtle one, not easy to spot."
“I should’ve stopped her.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed audibly. “I knew she’d try something like this.”
“She did it to protect us, but she’s not alone anymore. I promise we’re gonna get her back.”
The screen door creaked open behind me, its familiar sound breaking the quiet. I turned to see my dad, Wyatt, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and brow furrowed, watching me closely. He looked worn, as if sleep had been a stranger for days, but he still maintained that steady presence—solid, grounded, and calm, just like he always had.
“All right,” he ground out. “Which one of my sons said I wasn't allowed to get involved?”
“None of them,” I shrugged. “It was Grandad.”
Dad's jaw dropped. “Hurst?”
“Yep.”
He gave a short laugh, muttered something under his breath, and stepped inside with me. I tapped my grandfather’s contact and put the call on speaker.
It rang once before he answered. “Tell me what kind of mess you’ve got brewing this time.”
“You’ve had people snooping around your place the past couple of days—that’s not a coincidence,” I said, my voice steady. “Gabby’s been taken by Colin Maddox. He was threatening all of us, and she gave herself up to protect us. She didn’t run, she made a choice to keep us safe.”
There was a long pause before Grandad replied, “I had to get the sheriff involved again. I’m too damn old for this, Webb. I’ve got livestock, a bad hip, and no patience left for armed trespassers. I just want to sit in peace with my dogs and my porch beer.”
He was so full of shit. “Believe me, I get it, but she saw something big. We're talking blackmail and buried bodies, and now Colin Maddox wants her gone, and he’s got the resources to make that happen. We’re trying to stop him.”