“L-let me go!” she tried again, her voice muffled and breaking.
No one answered her.
Tess’s stomach swooped with each curve and turn they took too fast. The van’s undercarriage rattled with every bump.
Her mind raced. Why her? What did they want? Who were they? Were these the same people from the Escalade she’d kept seeing? Would she ever see Andy again?
She didn’t know. God, she didn’t know anything. And she couldn’t see their faces. Couldn’t see anything but shadows through the thin material covering her face.
Her heart twisted painfully.
She squirmed, trying to get her hands free, but it was useless. She changed tactics and kicked her bound feet out, this time striking a leg or arm.
“Knock it off!” Hands shoved at her, knocking her off balance again.
“Go to hell,” Tess spat, her voice thin and shaking.
He hissed a laugh. “You’ll want to save your strength.”
Fear cut through her like a blade.
She swallowed it down. She needed her head clear. Panicking would get her nowhere. She forced herbreathing to slow—barely. Just enough to keep from hyperventilating.
She memorized every sound. Every bump. Every turn. If she lived through this—and she had to—she needed details. Anything she could use to escape.
Over the years, she’d trained herself not to react too strongly when dealing with bodies. With death. With tragedy.
But this wasn’t a corpse laid out on a metal table.
This was her. Alive and helpless. Kidnapped, with no idea what would happen to her next.
As the van sped farther from the M.E.’s office, Tess clenched her jaw, and she focused on every detail she could, no matter how minor or seemingly insignificant. It was that or give in to the rising terror threatening to swallow her whole.
She didn’t knowwhythey’d taken her.
She didn’t knowwherethey were taking her.
And if she never made it home again, Andy would be all alone in the world.
That thought—more than pain, more than fear—made her blood run ice-cold.
Chapter 27
Andy sprawled on the couch with his laptop balanced across his thighs, the TV on low more for company than anything else. Some reality show about flipping houses flickered on the screen, but he wasn’t really watching. The beach house creaked and sighed around him the way it always seemed to do when the weather shifted. A storm was moving in, and a strong wind blew off the water, rattling one of the back windows.
He checked the time at the top of his laptop screen for the third time in ten minutes.
5:48 p.m.
Tess was late.
Not hours late. Just... later than usual.
She’d texted around four thirty to say she was leaving work and heading straight to the beach house.Without traffic, it would’ve taken her about forty-five minutes. With it, he could add an extra fifteen or so.
Still, it sat wrong in his gut.
Grabbing his phone, he called her, but it went to voicemail. So, he sent her a text.
