I panted, pulling my hand out of the drywall and shaking my wrist out. Fuck, that hurt. But dammit if the pain didn’t do something to ground me. If I held onto the anger, maybe then I’d avoid feeling the pain in my chest, the fear coursing through my bloodstream.
Lottie sobbed and Hannah curled her arm around her waist, sitting beside her.
“Still gonna tell me we shouldn’t call the police,” Hannah glowered.
I realized I was still holding her phone.
I unclenched my jaw to speak.
“No one calls the police,” I said firmly, catching all their eyes. “No one.”
“Why the hell not?” Mason demanded.
“Because,” I said, grabbing Shiloh’s phone and typing in her passcode, 366247, “the police can’t help her. But I know who can.”
My hands were sweaty and shaking as I scrolled through her list of contacts until I found the one I was looking for. I tapped call and held it up to my ear.
“Emory?” the man asked with a small amount of shock. “What’s going on kid?”
I swallowed. “It’s Enoch.”
“What the hell did you do?” he accused gruffly.
“No-nothing. I don’t think. She’s gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“I think someone took her.”
I shut out the voices of her friends gasping and whispering in shock.
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the phone line. “Who?” he demanded.
I eyed the bathtub. “Her ex-husband.”
“Fuck,” Bradley hissed. “Fuck!”
I heard something crash in the background and I ran a hand through my hair, pulling at the roots.
“What do I do?”
“Dammit! I told her…fuck. Kid, I can’t…” Bradley sighed with exasperation. “I can’t get involved. I don’t have any power here with the Marshals Service. She signed away my power when she left WITSEC. I can’t get involved.”
Anger left a bitter taste in my mouth as my chest heaved. “Then tell me where he lives. Surely you can manage that much, right?”
The silence dragged on. “Dammit, Bradley, just fucking tell me where the piece of shit lives!”
There was another loud bang on his end before he sighed roughly.
“How do you know it was him?”
I eyed the tub once again. “Because I’m not looking at her dead body, right now. And if it was them, I would be.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself. “How long she been missing for? You sure she's not just out with a friend or something?”
I growled with impatience. “No. She's not out with a fucking friend, Bradley. She's fucking missing. Her phone is here. Her gun is here. Her car is here. Her bike is here. Her backpack ishere. Everything is fucking here except for her! The only clue I have is that her bathtub is full. She wouldn't go fucking near a full bathtub of her own accord. So I know it was that fucker, Theodore. Now tell me where the fuck he lives so I can go get her!”
There was a long silence before he finally responded. “Fuck it. Fine. They own a compound, over two-thousand acres, an hour outside of San Antonio. But you’re not gonna get on without help. They used a fucking mercenary team to get her out the last time and I can guarantee you that if he found a way to find her and take her, he’s got someone helping him that will only make things more difficult.”
