Chapter One
FINN
I peer through bleary eyes at the computer screen.
60%progress.
The bar is a little over half-filled.
I stretch my fingers, wincing at the soreness. I’d forgotten how exhausting coding could be. Especially with older systems.
My phone rings.
Rather than answer, I rub my face with the heel of my hand.
My eyes feel like sandpaper.
I blink a few more times until my vision clears.
My brother Dutch is calling.
I inhale sharply, fighting an unusual feeling in my chest. It’s unpleasant, prickly and cutting. I felt something similar when Sol got expelled because of us last year.
What is this ugly sensation?
Feelings aren’t my forte, and I don’t know how to describe this one exactly. It’s… thick and oozing. Slippery. Every time I try to throw it off me, it clamps on tighter.
Disgusting.
I hated the feeling back then too.
70% progress.
I pick up the phone. “Any…” My throat garbles the rest of my words. I haven’t drunk water or eaten a morsel since I came down here. “Any luck?”
“We went through every second of footage.”
I sit a little straighter and the beat-up, old plastic chair creaks. “Already?”
That washoursof footage. I took everything I could from the servers. The mall’s security system was easy to jailbreak. Modern technology is so trusting. Once you’re in the cloud, stealing information is like plucking flowers from the stem.
“Did you sleep?” I ask. It’s a pointless question. My brothers’ wives were kidnapped last night. There’s no way they would have gotten any sleep.
“Didyou?” Dutch throws back.
We both know the answer to that question too.
“Any clues? Even someone’s face reflected in a mirror could help tell us who took them.”
“We saw Grey and Cad—” Dutch stammers while saying his wife’s name. “We saw them walking into the mall. They were in the baby store…” He stops again and his breath rattles. “They picked up these onesies at the front. Cadey was smiling—Damn.” Dutch pauses. Exhales. He fights to say, “We didn’t see them leave.”
“What about the grey van they were dragged into?”
“No sign of it anywhere.”
“And the police?”
“Not much help,” Dutch grunts.
