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 know why they’d taken her.
She didn’t know where they 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 Twenty-Seven
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.
Almost home?
After waiting for a few moments for a reply that never came, he tossed the phone on the couch beside his leg. Tess wouldn’t text and drive, even if she were sitting in traffic.
Half-convinced that she’d be home at any minute, he tried to focus on his laptop.
He flicked over to one of his favorite coding forums—usually a rabbit hole he could lose hours in. A new thread on network tunneling lit up the screen, half the replies full of cocky one-liners and messy code snippets. Normally, he’d be diving in, arguing in the comments, picking apart every line like candy.
Instead, the words slid right past him, all of it tasting too close to what Diego had asked him to do.
His inbox pinged with a new email—a confirmation from Cyberline about a preorder he’d put in. The sight of their logo twisted something in his stomach.
Diego’s smirk flashed in his head.
You’re smart. Really smart... Which is why I picked you...
His fingers tightened on the edge of the laptop. He’d blocked Diego’s number. Deleted the texts. Told himself it was over.
But the echo of “Everybody’s got a weak spot...” wouldn’t leave him.
“Arrgghh! What have I gotten myself into?”
He let out a heavy, exasperated sigh. The house felt too quiet, and it was getting on his nerves. No jangle of Tess’s keys at the door. No voice calling his name, no grocery bags dropping on the counter. Even the hum of the fridge sounded louder.
His phone buzzed on the cushion beside him, startling the hell out of him.
For a heartbeat, he hoped it was Tess.
