“He’s not?—”
“He can help,” Cox interrupted Ward. “Weneedhelp. Every second counts.”
Ward blew out a long breath before crossing to the door and knocking. “Jonah Goodwill? This is Ward. We need you to open up.”
Joel’s hands fisted, trying to stop himself from barging past everyone.
Ward knocked again. “Jonah?”
Silence.
“He’s not in there,” Joel growled. “We need to enter,now.”
Ward sighed. “Fine. Am I calling a locksmith or?—”
Joel stepped forward and tried the handle…
Unlocked.
He pulled his Glock from his concealed holster before pushing the door open and inching inside. He stepped into the living room first and scanned the space. Ward, Cox, and the other deputy scattered throughout the house.
He was checking the walk-in pantry in the kitchen when Cox called from down the hall. Joel raced into an office—only to stop dead. There, on the wall, were photos of all the recent women who’d been taken and killed. Nikki Bishop. Zoe Ewin. Priya Tan. And even more recently, Jenna Hampstead and Teagan Kimm.
His eyes narrowed on the sixth photo.
Polly.
Cox lifted a notepad from the desk. There were two dates scribbled down.
“What do they mean?” Joel asked.
Ward shook his head. “No idea.”
“The first is the date that the old mansion on the hill was cordoned off.” Cox pointed to the bottom date. “And this is the day we got all our stuff out of there.” He frowned. “He must have been waiting for the opportunity to take her there.”
It wasn’t much, but the best information they had.
Joel raced out of the house and toward his truck. On the way, he messaged the team.
Joel: I need backup at the deserted mansion on the hill.
Breathe.In and out.
She repeated those words again and again. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Maybe minutes, maybe hours.Every second had trickled by slowly, stretching and thickening. Making the band around her chest tighten.
And she was cold. The kind of cold that soaked into her skin and trickled through every part of her body. But that might also be shock.
She closed her eyes, shutting out the dark and the cold and the feeling of being trapped. And she pictured herself somewhere else. With Joel. In his home. With Saint and the smell of takeout. Pictured herself wrapped in Joel’s arms.
If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost feel the heat of his body seep into her own. She could almost hear his words as he whispered that everything would be okay.
And itwouldbe okay. Eventually, someone would realize she was missing. They’d check the cellar and let her out. She just needed to wait.
The walls started to close in on her again, suffocating her.
No.Shewas in control of how she felt, and she wasnotgoing to let this become bigger than her.
Breathe, Polly.
