She sucked in a breath. The photos were altered pictures of her.
In the first, she was lying in a wrecked car, her limbs broken, and her neck twisted in a horrifying angle, her face filled with pain. In the second, she was crumpled on the ground, tire marks over her body and limbs, and half her face was crushed under a dirt bike’s tire. The third was of her, naked and shackled to a dirty beige recliner. All along her body were knife wounds, shallow slashes along her skin. Across her stomach, deeper cuts spelled outSarah. In this one, her face wasn’t twisted in pain. No. Her eyes were gouged out with only deep hollows remaining.
“I worked hard on all of these, but I think I like this one the most.” He held up the photo of her in the recliner. “I feel like this one avenges my sweet Sarah the most. Because, Freya, what I said to you was true. It should have been you.”
With one last spine-chilling smile, he stepped to a cabinet she hadn’t noticed. Her eyes widened when she saw what lay on top. She swallowed down more bile. Sweat broke out over her skin, and her breaths became shallow. A long row of knives. Small ones, big ones, hooked ones, jagged ones. So many knives. A shiver tore through her, and she couldn’t hold back a sob.
Her heart shattered.
No. She wasn’t leaving here alive.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The helicopter flying time from Hudson Island to Blanchard Bay was roughly thirty-six minutes. With the snowstorm wreaking havoc on the Pacific Northwest, the flight time should have been longer, and maybe even impossible for some. Luckily for Xander, their pilot was Hadley Owen, and she made it over with eight members of Hudson Security in twenty-three minutes.
Owen landed in the middle of a street two blocks down from Axel’s house, and everyone—minus Frazier—quickly gathered around the kitchen island waiting for next steps. Frazier was busy smoothing out the ruffled feathers of the Blanchard Bay PD. However, seeing as one of their own was injured, and their detective’s sister had been abducted, BBPD’s police chief was being surprisingly accommodating.
“Bingo,” Bean said, her attention focused on her laptop. “I got the plate off that black Hyundai Sonata. Just give me two more seconds.”
Xander’s heart raced.Please, Bean. Please find her.
“How?” Police Chief Horowitz asked as he entered the kitchen with Frazier. She glanced up and pierced him with a lookthat had him clearing his throat. “Forget I asked. In fact, forget I’m here.”
Esme patted him on the shoulder. “Smart man. I also suggest you not hear or see anything that happens while we’re here.”
He nodded, his eyes wide. “Of course, ma’am. We’re here to assist.”
“We appreciate that,” Frazier said, moving to stand behind Bean.
“Timothy McAllen,” Bean said. “Thirty-one. Six feet. One-eighty. Resident of Blanchard Bay.” She glanced at the police chief and rattled off a local address.
He immediately shook his head. “No. That’s not a viable address. There was a house fire there three or four years ago. The owners never rebuilt.”
“That’s right. It was a really bad electrical fire,” Jasper said. “We were working with the owners on the rebuild design. An elderly couple. They decided to take the insurance money and move to Arizona instead. But they weren’t McAllen...” His eyes narrowed in thought. “I could have sworn they mentioned a grandson or something?”
“I’ll run a search on their family and other residents at that address,” Bean murmured, her fingers swift as she typed.
Esme turned to him. “Did you give Freya any kind of tracking device? Jewelry or a tracker for her shoes?”
Xander shook his head, anger at himself building for not having done so. “I should have though.”
“Don’t start that game, brother,” Wilson said from beside him. “You didn’t want to push too hard, and there’s not a damn thing wrong with that.”
“Except she’s missing, and we can’t fucking find her.”
Wilson’s hand slapped down on his shoulder. “We will. Hold it the fuck together.”
A soft gasp filled the near-silent room, and all eyes swung to the little girl in her uncle’s arms standing in the kitchen entry. “He said the two-dollar naughty word, Uncle Finn.”
“That’s right, Josie baby,” Finn said, running a hand over her dark hair. “I’ll make sure he puts his two dollars in the jar.”
“Sorry about that, little one,” Wilson said, shooting her a wink.
“S’okay. Do you know where my daddy is?”
Xander’s gut twisted.
“Remember, sweetie, your daddy got hurt and he had to go to the hospital real quick,” Finn said, his voice thick with emotion. “He’s sleeping right now, so we have to wait until tomorrow to see him.”
