It could be anyone, but who would want me? One man. Zoe’s killer.
And if Ingram didn’t do it, this must be Mace.
My head clears just enough to speak. “Tell me who you are.”
“And who areyou?” His voice is enough to make my skin crawl. “The bitch who ruined everything? Got too close…fucked things for my only brother?”
Brother?
His grip tightens on the wheel, knuckles whitening as the truck bumps over another patch of uneven ground. My stomach lurches with the movement.
If the killer has a brother—if I “ruined everything”—there’s only one man I’ve been after.
Maybe Ingram didn’t cover Zoe’s murder for himself but…for family?
A sick heat floods my chest. Did Ingram warn Mace to fix the bolts? Warn him I was getting too close? Did he tell Mace to get rid of me?
A memory flashes of Ingram coming in one last time to make a show of his vacation. God, was that his alibi?
Another jolt hits the truck, and I’m thrown sideways, the flex cuffs biting into my skin. Terror digs down into my bones.
But why would he take me? It does nothing to erase what I’ve found. But suddenly, it occurs to me. I left every big development out of the file so Ingram wouldn’t see it. There’s no Marshall interview. No Andy… GhostEye knows it all.
But Mace doesn’t know they know.
A tight, painful breath catches in my throat. I’m not ready to die.
I have a baby in my belly.
I have Anton.
His blue eyes flash in my mind—the way he asked me this morning to let GhostEye stay involved. The only time he’s ever asked me for anything. As always, it was worth following his lead.
Last night’s digging might be the thing that saves me.
And Anton said he was coming. Thank God. He’ll find my truck, and I hope to all that is holy…me.
I glance at the deranged man next to me, wiping sweaty strands from his forehead with his forearm, a gun still resting in his hand. He’s stripped me of my weapon. I have nothing to defend myself.
It’s not supposed to happen like this. No. Not now…
My bound hands lift toward my belly on instinct, and the moment I do, something primal surges through me like electricity, tightening every muscle I can still control. I have to fight. I grit my teeth and steady myself.
Everything in my gut screams from within:Today is not our day to die, baby girl.
The truck comes to a screeching halt, jerking me forward so violently that the seatbelt clamps across the underside of my stomach. A hot, instant sting burns behind my eyes, but adrenaline fills my veins with a rush to fight.
My jaw tightens as I lift my gaze to the man who took me. I’m bound, concussed, terrified if I’m honest—but inside, something feral bares its teeth.
Until I look past him.
We’re at the quarry.
Where Zoe died. Where Mariana died. Where two women vanished into rock and silence.
Mace kills the engine.
He steps out without a word. The passenger door swings open with violent force, cold air whipping across my face.
